Satchel entered a regional-based Remembrance Day poetry contest last November and came in 3rd! At the assembly last Tuesday, he was presented with a framed certificate of recognition and $20 by 3 veterans.

Here is his poem:

The Glowing Hearts of Soldiers
By Satchel Page

For years these men lay in a field,
free from the weapons they used to wield.

All the fighting is now a thought
of all the men who have ever fought!

Thousands of men are now dead,
from bullets in the heart or head.

On the beach they rode their tanks,
over bodies on the banks.

The soldiers' hearts always shone,
always brave and always brawn!

The men walked wearing a tag,
dodging bullets to protect their flag.

Remember them from house to tower
while we wear a special flower,

for all the soldiers who have fought
we should all forget them not!






I am SO proud of him.

I post these old advertisements when I'm too tired to write but feel I owe you something other than a glass of wine and a cookie for continuing to read these diatribes of mine. But I really do love them!

Lately I have been feeling like I'm back in high school, exposed to but not part of the popular girls' posse. I really hated high school - would have to say it was one of the least favourite periods of my life - and that's not even counting the death of my father at age 16...and my hair. I just really hated the cliques and the backstabbing and the posing...and lunch time in the cafeteria, walking in with my Goodwill clothes modified to look like an extra from the movie Quadrophenia to be met with whispers, pointing and giggles.

When, I ask you, will the lottery pan out for me and free me from this torment? My clothes are FINE!

Jakob, in an effort to fully describe how well he takes care of me to the school administrative assistant and the school librarian, pointed out and outlined where all the scars are ON MY BODY. The poor women, they were trying to eat dinner. Afterwards they picked themselves up of the ground, wished me a good evening and said that they would head out now before Jakob gave them any more graphic details. I said not to worry, he likes to save the gory details for snack time - when he has a captive audience.

Again, this is why parents of young children drink more - as the study in the Globe & Mail pointed out - it's the only way we can cope with our suffering humility.

I can't begin to describe fully just how painful it is to watch Jakob on the soccer field.

He has mastered the shuffle and complete disinterest of a bent over, crotchety 90 year old waiting for a jello treat (or my mother with a plate of vegetables in front of her). The only time he came close to the ball was when he was lying down on the field and it just happened to pass by him. But rather than feebly lift his foot to try to give it a kick, he would instead roll over and face the other direction. As if the ball, or the 11 kids chasing it en masse, were all just part of an exceptionally boring dream.

When he was finally roused to action by the coach and possibly the threat of a foot in his face, he limped with arms flailing wildly over to me to tell me that he thought his foot was broken.

Jakob would make a great reality TV star.

My friend recommended a band to me - Nouvelle Vague.
They do fabulous versions of late 70's, early 80's punk music, from Blondie to Dead Kennedys.

Check out their myspace site for a few samplings:

http://www.myspace.com/nouvellevague

One last thing before I pass out...


Q: What do you get when you combine an orange with a frog?


A: An orange frog






Jakob is screaming at me, time to take action and put that little nugget of joy TO BED!

I am so tired I feel ill.

Between my coughing, Paul snoring, Jakob joining us...I didn't get any sleep last night. Out of desperation I kept my bottle of Buckley's on my nightstand for easy swigging.

Ironically Paul's spending the night at the sleep clinic to determine if he has sleep apnea and if that explains his"lack of motivation" and absent mindedness. Ironic because I haven't had a good night sleep in over 10 years (since the birth of Satch) and I think bitterly to myself that the 10 years of broken sleep have made me cranky but still motivated. I think to myself, how can he have sleep apnea? He snored all night. I was awake to hear him.

The thought of having the bed to myself has me so excited! I just want to run around the house, setting the clocks ahead a couple of hours so I can send the kids to bed now, just so I can start my night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

Please let it be blissful, uninterrupted sleep otherwise I'm going to have a breakdown.

Jakey is so offended by my elbows that he has instructed me to keep my arms bent whenever I'm with him, or wear longer sleeves to cover up the absolutely horrifying sagging of skin. When he first noticed my disfigurement in the school yard he screamed "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR ELBOWS?!!!" and started pulling at the skin. I said "nothing, they're not pretty but I got them from your Grandpa."

No chance of me developing a complex around him, no sirree.

bon vivant \bon-vee-VONT\, noun:

A person with refined and sociable tastes, especially one who enjoys fine food and drink.

When will I ever learn?

I made the mistake of including Mom in my email to my family about the allergic reaction I had (only because I was curious if anyone else had experienced it) and she has now called all my brothers and sister to make sure they have read the message, to find out their thoughts on the whole ridiculous ordeal, and then because that wasn't enough, forwarded a copy on to my aunt to pass on to her family and another uncle to pass on to his family. I feel like an idiot. I'm sure at this very moment she's drafting a letter to have published in her local paper - fortunately only serving a population of about 12. She feels it's NOT the hot dog but the BUN and that I had better start googling the information so I am better informed.

I don't think she rallied this much when I told her I had breast cancer.

I have such a headache now.

The strangest thing happened to me today.

I ate a hot dog at a local fundraiser where Satchel was playing in the steel pan band, and within seconds of eating it I had a severe reaction. I became really hot, my face started tingling, my lips swollen and then I developed a serious rash that looked like a really bad sun burn that started at the top of my head and worked down to my chest. I had a fever which spiked high - all within minutes of finishing a hot dog with only traditional condiments. Took an Alegra calmed the rash & fever down - the rash now all down my arms too. Kim came over and we called a nursing hotline for advice, since I've never reacted like this and always considered myself free of food allergies, and then on their recommendation went to a walk in clinic because they thought it might be an staph infection caused by my last surgery.

I was so irritated. Not only did I miss Satchel playing in the band but I am so sick of my health ruining these moments. I had visions, while sitting in the grotty walk-in clinic waiting room, of being sent to the hospital for more tests and more nights being spent and more really bad hospital food. Fortunately the doctor just looked at me and told me it was probably MSG but to avoid hot dogs, ketchup, mustard and relish until I get tested. I left feeling like my time had been completely wasted.

I am so ridiculously sore and banged up, I'm also a little bit hung over...and I have a big hive on my face.

I fell down the back steps yesterday (really must stop doing that). Jakob and Aidan had spilled bubble solution all over and I came out with a glass of milk for Satch and whoosh! My right arm now is skinned, my left elbow burned and all down the left side of my back and butt is raw and bruised.

As I lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, Paul asked if I was okay. I yelled "NO!" because it truly was the most stupid question ever and then swore a blue streak. Finally I dragged my sorry - but fortunately unbroken - body back to my outdoor chair and poured a nice little rose in to my wine glass. I didn't move for a while. There were also desserts courtesy of Kim's cleaning woman beside me so to make myself feel better, I also stuffed my face with flaky pastries with cherry gelatinous goo.

I just remembered that I left J*** the contractor a message on the weekend asking when we're supposed to provide the deficiency list - strangely (I type sarcastically) we haven't heard from him. Hmmm, funny that.

Today is Target Breast Cancer day so I am proudly wearing my target breast cancer tank top. Unfortunately I am also the only person in the downtown core it seems wearing the t-shirt. The obscure advertising (Roots and very select magazines) must have been a little on the weak side. The tank top is cute - the bulls-eye kind of mirrors the look of the hive on my face.

Jakey had soccer practice last night - he spent the time separate from the other kids going "this is boring!!" and "jesus" and also "Mommy, come here - we can go home now."

Finally he got kicked in the head because he spent more time with his head on the ground and his foot in the air than actually standing up, playing with the rest of the kids.

I think this is going to be a long season.

Satchel on the other hand had practice tonight and did really well - though never leaving the position of defence, but I was so proud of him. Maybe not as proud as the mother in front of me who kept screaming at her kid and then yelling "oh shit!" every time he missed a play, but still excited none the less. Jakey was keen too, he spent the entire time picking up bottle caps and flinging them on the roof of the scariest public washroom I have ever seen.

I'm sitting with my cup of coffee trying to get motivated to go to Paul's sister's in Pickering.

I normally try hard to avoid leaving the city when the destination is the white-bread culturally-void suburbs but today I have no choice. That may sound harsh but I feel like I'm entering the twilight zone when I pull in off the highway: everything looks the same but you just know that behind the blue eyes of the white-haired children evil lurks. And if I did make the leap and live there I'd probably never see my children again because I would only get confused after work and move in to a different house each night. BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME.

It's why I try to avoid the 3rd floor of my office - sure it looks exactly the same but I'm always left a little uneasy.

I haven't addressed my house lately. My mission is to get mirrors for the 2 bathrooms which I'm finding as difficult as it was figuring out lighting. I just can't find a mirror I like for the powder room and with the main bathroom, the electricians fucked up ("Not my fault, not my responsibility, I can have it fixed but will have to charge you" says my evil contractor) and the lights were placed exactly where the mirror should go. Now I have to have an electrician come back to the house and move the lights so I can actually put mirror(s?) up over the sink.

I have a splinter in my hand - Jakob is giving me advice on how to remove it. It sounds a little suspect but I might just give it a try. His method involves hot water, salt and magic twisters (I think he means tweezers) and then it will just heal itself. Genius.

Jakey was very cute the other day. I picked up running shoes from the Gap for him (great sale on boys clothes, pants for Satchel - $9.00, cool running shoes for Jakey - $6.00). He said they were trick shoes and kept performing his special tricks (ninja-like moves) for everyone to see: the people in the park, the caregivers and teachers at school, his friends. The crowds were awed in to silence.

I better get my a** in gear and have shower. One should be clean for the suburbs and make my salad, and grab my children and go - I'm obviously procrastinating.

God, Jakob is trying to barter his going to clone world by saying if I play Teen Titans on the gamecube with him he will go. If he knew the words "under duress" I'm sure that would have come up too.

One last quick note: Satchel participated in an exhibition of photographs, taken by his digital photography class, at a neighbourhood gallery. Paul and I stopped by Friday afternoon to see the work (in between a cocktail at the Rushton - I had a broken heart martini, Paul a beer) and taking Arthur for suture removal at the vet. The exhibit was great, based on the kids' take on urban life using pin hole cameras and digital. Always interesting to see what 5' tall and under find fascinating. As some of the boys get closer to puberty, girls start to be a favourite subject matter - no surprise there.

Now I really have to get going!

Thursday night was the spring concert at Satch & Jake's school. Satch is part of the steel pan band and was playing that night - he was fantastic.



I took Jakey, who truly enjoyed himself. Appreciating all that is magical about the evening - the music, the dancing, the singing, the speeches...


He spent the entire time playing gameboy. I swear he'd have a seizure if I took it away from him. The threat alone reduces him to a quivering emotional mess. It's all I have on him.

Friday morning, Satchel woke with a stomach bug (diarrhea). He was very upset and wanted me to spend time with him in the bathroom as he purged and cramped. I didn't. Like a good (sane) mother, I went back to bed and listened to him kvetch. Then he mentioned his underwear which was covered in poo and waiting in the bathtub. I dragged my sorry body out of bed and checked it out - then went to his bedroom to check his bedding. It was clean but there was a suspicious mini pile of brown stuff on his carpet. He left poo on his carpet. How he managed that took me a while to figure out.

I ended up staying home with him, really missing work and the Friday office lunch, and listened to him whimper "why me, why ME!!!! make it stop Mommy..." By 1ish he was asking to go for a bike ride and again as the good mother that I am said "No, you're sick remember?" I was still bitter about losing another vacation day, cleaning poo off the white carpet and missing the office lunch and my favourite vanilla latte that keeps me going through the mornings at work.

At 1:45 I had an appointment to take Arthur to the vet for suture removal. Off I carried him to find out that poor scar face would live up to the moniker for another week. Poor guy - I don't think he's going to last much longer. I thought I found him dead today on my bed - he was just staring, not moving, not blinking. It was kind of freaky and made me realize how much I'll miss him - the little fancy ass that he is.