I'm back from my near week-long trip to Nova Scotia with Satchel...and we had a fabulous time!

Though Satchel was a victim of my nostalgia with me dragging him through the streets of Halifax saying "Look Satchel, there's my old school, there's my apartment, there's where Daddy and I had our first date...and oh look, where we used to suck back milkshakes that were so loaded with blueberries that they would plug our straws! Isn't this fabulous!"

You can imagine the eye rolling but he was so incredibly patient as he searched out stores that just might carry Yugioh cards and transformers in the hope of saving his sanity while I nattered on. His peace of mind was finally found for $30 at Mic Mac mall in Dartmouth.

I forgot how much I loved downtown Halifax.

We took a tour of the Corvette Sackville from WWII (the last remaining in North America but I noticed I was hearing that a lot while there, this is the LAST _____ in North America!) and while on the ship met a man named Peter who had fought with the US Navy during WWII and on a Corvette so very patiently told us everything there was to know about it and also what it was like to see action during the war.

Satchel and I took a whale watching tour but as is my luck saw no whales, only a lobster and crab plus a lot of seagulls trying for scraps.

After 4 days we left Halifax and moved on to Kim & Scott's cottage which will be my next posting.

Flying Porter - absolutely fantastic, I only want to fly with them from now own. If only they would expand their destinations! Satchel was very excited.


Pictures taken on the harbourfront.




Entrance to NSCAD.

The entrance to Point Pleasant Park.

The entrance to Paul's and my apartment on Victoria.

Having dinner at Pedlars Pub - where Paul and I had our first date. Before catching the classic film that carried the catching line: Don't Bury Me - I'm Not Dead Yet!

Satchel and I are heading off to Halifax tomorrow morning.

I'm in the middle of packing and I really hate packing. And to make matters worse, I'm PMSing. I can barely get dressed for work during this time of the month so trying to figure out 6 days worth of clothes is INSANE! I'm almost in tears!

Plus I didn't get much sleep again last night. True Paul WAS snoring again with that cute little catch he does at the end of each snort, but I can't even blame my night of insomnia on that - annoying as it is.

Perhaps the excitement of the trip kept me awake or the desperate need for a vacation now that cult day has passed is taking its toll. I don't know. But I certainly hope to catch up while in Halifax, sharing a room with Satchel who sleeps very quietly and breathing in the salty fresh Atlantic air.

I look forward to sharing stories and pictures upon my return!

Today was the last day of school. A moment of triumph for the children and panic for the parents as we try to figure out what to do with kids when we have to face work in the morning and camps don't start until Monday.

I walked into the schoolyard to find Jakob gleefully jumping into the biggest puddle in the schoolyard, courtesy of a blocked drain. It was only after he drenched himself that he realized he really HATES being wet.

I tried to be sympathetic but after his screeching and crying and pulling on my arm because LOOK AT HIS SHOES, LOOK AT HIS SOCKS, LOOK AT HIS SHORTS, LOOK AT HIS T-SHIRT and finally EVEN THE BASEBALL HAT HAS WATER ON IT, could only muster minimal sympathy and say "But it's so much fun to be wet! And what did you expect, you were jumping in a small pond! Of course you're going to get wet."

This got me absolutely nowhere.

Then I left him in the schoolyard barefoot and wet (but in the care of a friend) to go home and get his dry clothes and crocs. He was grateful for the crocs, but even happier because he had been given Starburst which made even walking home in damp clothing completely bearable.

Satchel had a fabulous day - spent entirely in the park with his class, armed with a watergun. Doesn't get any better than that.

Presenting the graduate:






I am so proud of Satchel.

I'M FINE!!!!

The results from the biopsy came back benign. BUT, the charming doctor said, there is always a BUT and that means a lumpectomy and depending on the type of tumor a second surgery.

But (my but) all I heard and cared was that the cyst is benign and I won't be needing chemo or radiation, thank you very much!

The yucky bit is that an hour or two before the surgery I have to have a mammogram and during the mammogram they will stick a wire into my breast which will be used to lead the surgeon to the tumor and then removed with it.

I turned to Paul and said sometimes it really sucks to be me.

Brenda just dropped off a bottle of champagne and a flower to celebrate and after I finish cleaning the kitchen, folding the laundry, finishing the school newsletter - I will be cracking that baby open!

Thank you to everyone for your support - it means the world to me to have such great friends and family.

I am such a bag of nerves and it has all caught up with me today as I alternate between breaking down in tears and wanting to throw up. Fortunately having a family film day watching Kungfu Panda was a good distraction and I have been promised something to help me sleep by very VERY good neighbours and friends.

But I meet with my oncologist tomorrow morning and will write about the results after I receive them, keeping my fingers crossed that the cyst turns out to be benign.

1 core biopsy.

5 tissue samples taken.

1 ice pack stuffed in bra.

2 hours in the hospital.

Many extra strength tylenol.

5 days until I find out the results.

2 hour nap.

I am exhausted!

Core biopsy scheduled for tomorrow morning at 8:30 am.

I feel a bit like my life is falling apart.

My appointment with my oncologist did NOT go as I had hoped.

Driving the new car has been fabulous but I'm unsure of what to do with my right hand now that I no longer have to spend the entire time shifting gears. Or my left leg since there is no clutch to constantly bear down on.

My right hand feels agitated with its lack of purpose in the car - perhaps I should start drinking coffee so that it doesn't start acting out by messing with the radio channels or pushing random buttons...for example the seat warming buttons now that temperatures have hit 32*.

Tomorrow I meet up with my oncologist to find out the results of the MRI I had two weekends ago. Like my right hand I'm feeling a little agitated since one of the many things I have been so rudely awaken to after being diagnosed with breast cancer is that I can't totally trust my body - that there just might be something silently lurking about, waiting to wreak havoc on my life.

Of course my ever optimistic side reminds me to stop being a drama queen and everything will be fine. Which I will write about tomorrow.

But fabulous things have happened today even though it's not even noon.

The first, while walking Satchel to his final swim class, was passing by our old rental house and finding my patio umbrella stand sitting outside by the sidewalk - as if it was waiting for me to stroll by that morning and reclaim it. And it is still in fantastic condition considering it's now been 18 months since we left it behind!

Plus it's from Caban and I'm still not through my mourning period since the store closed down.

A quick call to Paul and it is now safely back in our yard where it belongs.

The second great thing is that Satchel passed his Red Cross Level 8 swim class and is ready to start Level 9 - he really is a beautiful and elegant swimmer.

And finally while stopping by Loblaws to pick up a snack for Satch and bandages for both our feet because the crocs that I have now worn for a couple of years have decided to tear into me, and Satchel's brand new ones are also protesting and drawing blood, were the fantastic knives I found in clearance for 1/2 price and will now replace the ones which I really wouldn't recommend anyone using, and also a roasting pan with a rack for $9!

The last bit of good news, held over from Friday since I have been a bit delinquent in writing (I blame the new car), is that Satchel and I both passed our first guitar test with flying colours!

Our new car is going to be here ANY MINUTE!

And I've been overtaken with irrational anxiety that Paul will have an accident on its inaugural drive - not a serious one, just enough to cause some damage to our baby's perfect profile.

And we haven't even named her yet.

OH MY GOD it's here!

I just did a test drive...and for a four cylinder, it drives like butter!

Say hello to our new baby!


She is SOOOOO beautiful!

And when the salesman operated the moon roof - all of us were awed into silence. Until Jakob broke the spell by yelling "Holy crap! How did you do that?!"

Unfortunately she is not in our driveway. We opted to leave her at the Subaru dealership to get the rust protection that has a life time warranty. Little do they know we will be taking advantage of that because we do not replace our cars on a whim. Which they would have known if they had seen our Escort wagon taking a nap in the parking lot.

This little number will probably be passed down to Jakob for his 18 birthday.

Now to think of a good name - one that reflects her absolute magnificence...and heated seats.

This was my life yesterday afternoon.

Me: Jakob, I have a little present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.

Jakob: It's a book isn't it. I HATE books. Books SUCK. I don't want it, I want to give it away. Give it to Satchel. NOW YOU HAVE TO BUY ME ANOTHER PRESENT! THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER! I DIDN'T GET ANYTHING! WHY DID YOU GET ME A BOOK? BOOKS SUCK!

Me: Do they suck ASS? (I'm sorry, sometimes I just can't help myself.)

Jakob: YES THEY SUCK ASS! WHY DID YOU GET ME THIS?

Me: I thought you would like the book. And books don't suck, we can read this one before bed.

Jakob: NO, I HATE IT! I NEVER WANT TO READ IT.

Then I saw a friend of mine in my neighbour's backyard and decided to go out and say hello before allowing myself to be pushed over the edge by my little challenge. While outside Jakob continued to yell and slam and stomp, making sure the door was open so that I would always be fully aware of his discontent.

Kim and Lori asked what was wrong.

I had to admit to them that I did the unthinkable - I bought him a present. I bought him a book.

Thankfully the other book that I bought was The Difficult Child by Stanley Turecki and already I feel better because the first child he described was Jakob to a T! And attributes of the second, third and fourth child as well.

I am completely depending on this man for my sanity survival...well on him and the LCBO.

Why does parenting have to be so hard?

8 boxes of Cheesits: check

Positive comment about bedroom painting: check

Okay, he can stay.


Satchel and Jakob had their annual physical yesterday afternoon and I think Jakob needs glasses. Our family doctor also recommended us a book that she found very helpful with her son: The Difficult Child by Stanley Turecki.

It's like she knows Jakob intimately.

I feel like I deserve some sort of medal or at least a t-shirt which proclaims in a bold, in-your-face font "I SURVIVED THE MAY 24 WEEKEND!"

Paul left early Friday morning on a road trip to Virginia with his sister and brother. Because I'm my own worst enemy I decided that while he was away, even though I had 2 swim classes, 1 guitar lesson and an MRI that would take up most of Saturday afternoon...and work and taking care of the kids...I would paint my bedroom. And I did and actually finished it with no paint to spare and it looks fabulous!

I painted Saturday night after the MRI and Sunday afternoon after the swim class, grocery shopping and guitar lesson. I even managed to take the kids to Toys-R-US for a quick afternoon shopping experience to reward them for having been so fabulous this weekend.

I painted the wall behind my bed Benjamin Moore's Brown Sugar (a dark brown) to make up for the lack of headboard and the rest of the walls BM Cloud White - our room now looks so much bigger, brighter and less like a university dorm room. If I'd had more time I was going to hunt down curtains and hardware, replace the old table on Paul's side of the bed and figure out art work to hang above the bed. That will have to be left for another road trip. I tried the new Aura paint which Benjamin Moore introduced this year and I must say the really quick dry time (one hour) is worth the extra money. The proclamation that most colours will cover in just one coat is far from the truth. The brown did cover in 2 coats but if I hadn't completely run out of the Cloud White I would have like to have added a 3rd coat.


The other addition to our little house is the proper bathroom mirror and light fixtures in the main bathroom. It is such a treat to be able to stand anywhere and put on make-up, brush hair, tweeze eyebrow hairs, etc. - instead of all of us getting kinks in our necks trying to position ourselves in front of the tiny mirrors we put up to temporarily hold us over until I finally figured out what I wanted to do - 18 months later.


So the MRI. It was fine, I have mastered the art of lying absolutely still for 35 minutes in what feels like a coffin. What was nicer this time was that I felt like I was going in healthy whereas last year I had the MRI just hours after finding out I needed a mastectomy. A very dark day. I don't know the situations of the other women were who were either just finishing up or waiting with me because the foundation is always Breast Cancer. One woman, who I think was a few years younger than me, was visibly upset, another woman who was older and had just finished up chemo was agitated because she was claustrophobic and had never experienced an MRI before. I just wanted it over and a really large coffee. And the needle out of my arm because with the breast MRI you're hooked up to an IV the entire time.

By last night I was exhausted and my cold had returned with a vengeance. Stupidly I decided to end my day by washing up the left over dishes before going to bed, so at 10:00pm, instead of sleeping, I'm cutting my finger open, nearly to the bone, on the knife I forgot about in the sink. I couldn't get the bleeding to stop so finally called Scott over to take a look at it to see if I needed a quick trip to the hospital for stitches. He bandaged it so tightly and then wrapped it with tape and then we waited to see if it would continue to bleed through. Now 20 hours later, I still have the ugly old bandage and tape on because I'm kind of afraid to take it off. Every time I whack it, which is all the time, I just know that it's reopening because the bandage looks a little worse. And the really awful part, aside from washing up all the blood off the floor and cabinets this afternoon that I didn't notice last night, was hearing Paul's voice in my head "I told you to stop leaving the sharp knives in the dishwater!"

All I can say is that Paul had better bring me home my order of Cheesits and also had better GUSH about how fabulous the bedroom looks...or I will be blogging about it.

Okay...another night of no sleep.

I am very, VERY cranky.

And I'm currently sitting at my desk with a cup of tea because my throat is sore and the thought of coffee makes me want to vomit - even though coffee is like the elixir of morning survival for me.

And tomorrow I'm having my breast MRI and being crammed in a noisy stupid tunnel with blue dye being leaked into my system through an IV for the entire time.

And Paul's away, leaving this morning for Virginia.

BUT, unless I'm thwarted by Jakob, I should at least be guaranteed a good night's sleep...and many boxes of Cheesits upon Paul's return.

We have decided to buy the new car! Can you hear the high pitched squeal? Are your dogs going mad in the house? And if you notice any massive spelling errors - well ignore them because I'm typing with two clenched fists!

Unfortunately it's not a hybrid, it's a Subaru Forester. But it was as if the heavens opened and instead of acid rain pouring down on our heads, sunshine and rainbows are bursting through to the sounds of angels singing and a GREAT DEAL WAS TOSSED OUR WAY. Otherwise we would continue to go strong with our little toy Escort, praying each time I used it that the tires would actually be inflated and the floor wouldn't drop out and that it would last just one more year. We couldn't turn it down. Plus it has a MOON ROOF and HEATED SEATS and a 5-star safety rating! And incredible financing!

Things are looking up I must say.

We even had THE CONTRACTOR over this evening to go over the deficiency list and he's going to correct almost everything...and without complaint! He's obviously doing quite well having moved away from renovations and into property development. He had a glass of wine, he was charming, he shook my hand... Of course he didn't say WHEN he would be starting the repairs.

So I'm sitting here having a glass of wine, feeling pretty darn happy. And I'm counting down the days to my breast MRI at Mt. Sinai hospital.

4.

Sigh.

We might be buying a new car! And it's all I can think about! Anything asked of me gets the response "we might be buying a new car!" and then I clench my fists, jump up and down, and make a high pitched eee-ing noise.

But I am nothing if not sentimental and know that if this does happen - this BUYING A NEW CAR, and one that does NOT have me pumping the tires with a bicycle pump or constantly nagging Paul with "did you inflate the tires? DID YOU!?" - I know that I will shed tears when we finally part ways.

We bought this car off my brother Bob 9 years ago when Satchel was all of 2 and it has been fabulous - outside of the really obnoxious flat-tire-every-5-days thing - but who knows how much longer it will last now that every time we take it to the garage, the mechanic raises his eyebrows and says "you're sure you want to spend the money on it? That's more than the car is worth."

It's not worth $300!? Crikey. If you look at it that way, a tank of gas probably costs more than it's worth.

But old Ellie Escort was my very first car and the memories of Satchel as a toddler, Jakob as a new born being brought home from the hospital, learning to drive standard, getting out of the stalled car on a hill, cursing at Paul, because I couldn't get it going, driving to London by myself one weekend and getting stuck at an intersection because once again I couldn't get the car moving (note: people in London were ever so polite, they just resigned themselves to being stuck behind me for an indefinite amount of time and not one person honked their horn or yelled obscenities at me even though it took 3 light changes to finally get the car going) and so many others, that it will very difficult to say good bye.

But...I'll get over it.

Two children, 1 year apart, and their individual approach to the game of soccer.

Guess which one is mine.

To my family I just want to say...Good luck to you!

Q: "I am 44 years old and starting to think I’m going crazy. I have
three school-aged children and work full-time, so, granted, I am under a great deal of stress. The last six months I’ve had a few irregular menstrual cycles where I’m two weeks late for my period, and my PMS symptoms, which used to be quite mild, are worse than ever - coupled by severe mood swings. Also, I feel my level of concentration diminishing and I'm forgetting things I should not be forgetting. I
hear a lot about these things happening as a woman gets closer to menopause, but my mother says I’m a little young for this. What could be going on?"

I found this last night while googling pms symptoms and perimenopause and pretty much fell off my chair because outside of the extra child and a mother you can actually talk to about these things, it matches me perfectly!

This is one of the things I love most about Satchel - his absolute appreciation for anything that I do for him...occasionally.

For example, 2 days ago I went out trying to hunt down soccer shoes. After exhausting the Yonge/Bloor area I raced home and drove to THE MOST PATHETIC MALL in all of Toronto - but which at least contains a Zellers and forces me to patron it at least once a month.

And there on the shelf was one last pair of shoes in Satchel's size and as I paid for them found out that they were 40% off so only cost me $15!

I felt like the heavens had opened and a chorus of angels were singing, celebrating my success.

I skipped out of the mall of horrors with the bad lighting, the discount furniture store, the tacky artwork shop complete with James Dean at a bar lit by tiny bulbs, the booths selling hockey cards, the orange tiling everywhere, the old people who can no longer separate themselves from the benches and raced home.

When Satchel arrived home I presented his shoes, still in the red bag, and he said that they were the most awesome pair of soccer shoes ever and then showed them off to his friends...who have absolutely no interest what so ever in soccer shoes.

And then when I said my final good night he actually said "Thank you for making this such a great day Mommy."

I'm moving in with this one when I get old.

I sent an email off yesterday to our contractor (and Paul) to provide times when he would be available for the final walk through, to address our ever-growing deficiency list.

Hi ___,

Would you mind providing dates/times that you are available to do a final walk through - and then I can coordinate with Paul's schedule?

Thanks!
Meg

I can't tell you how many times I had to edit this note, making it polite and direct, devoid of all feelings...but then I promptly went and put a few toothpicks into our voodoo doll to make up for it.

So now the countdown begins to when will we actually hear back from him.

I bought this on ebay last week and have to admit that I really didn't think I would get it when I put in the absolute minimum bid - but seemingly I'm the only person in the universe who felt the strong desire for a Gender Bender in their life.



But unfortunately Jakob decided to tear into the box yesterday which completely pushed me over the edge because the box is part of the absolute fabulousness of Gender Bender and how Jakob didn't understand my screaming DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT EVER GOING NEAR THIS! at him is beyond me. I must be losing my touch.

Today my sister Susan should have turned 54 years old.

Wishing her a silent happy birthday leaves tears in my eyes and sadness in my heart.

This first picture was taken on one of my favourite weekends spent with Susan, Chris and Melissa at her house in Kitchener where we played crazy 8's and drank beer until the wee hours of the morning.

Susan with her kids who meant the world to her.

This picture was given to me by a friend, taken of Susan in the 70s.


Miss you like crazy.

Yes - that book definitely has to go, I think it gave me the flu.

I stayed home from work today and even though it's now nearly 2pm and I went to bed at 9:30 pm last night and slept this morning - it's all I can do to stop myself from going back to bed. Even coffee is making me feel ill which is the benchmark for all sicknesses. You must be really close to death if you can't drink coffee. I think that's Chapter 1 in the books studied at medical school.

Yesterday Paul had me take his picture for a conference he's attending in September.

He's pretty hot and I have to admit that unlike someone else's picture, Paul's has barely been reworked in photoshop. The only thing that would have made this portrait even better is if he had worn his GOOD pajamas.

Cancerland?

I just finished reading Libby Znaimer's book In Cancer Land and I have to admit that I didn't enjoy it.

That it's only my unfaltering anal-ism and need to finish everything I start, that I suffered through the entire book. And now that I've finally finished it, I feel caught in a funk. And it didn't help, as I lay in bed, still recovering from the autogenous reconstruction after my mastectomy, that I read in the last few pages her discounting my kind of breast cancer as "Stage 0", and not really "considered cancer by some doctors."

I thought back to being told that my 7cm mass was considered stage 2 out of 3 (ratings for DCIS) and that the angels must have been watching me as it came within 0.01mm from spreading to my sentinel nodes. That I am now counting the days until my May 24 MRI since I am being watched closely with semi annual check ups, alternating the mammogram with the MRI.

But being reminded of the stats also helped deflate me even though so many more women survive now because of early detection and better treatments then they did 20+ years ago.

And Libby's other C word: cured. Are you ever really considered cured or is the notion of cancer reoccurring something you just live with, painfully reminded of the chances at ever doctor's appointment. How did Libby phrase it? Something like "you don't die OF breast cancer, you die WITH breast cancer."

And as much as I don't want breast cancer to define me, I can't help being reminded of it every time I have a shower or get undressed. Or when asked how I am, I wonder if it is a reference to what I've gone through - though thankfully that's easing with time.

Some days are more exhausting than others but I think the personal weight this book created means it will have to find itself a new home. Even if it is personally autographed by the author.

These kind of things always seem like such a good idea, especially after having spent the afternoon drinking wine at a baby shower in London, Ontario. And then carrying more of that wine around in a travel mug while shopping with one older brother and one younger sister.

But even sober, and weeks later, I still enjoy them.

I'm just afraid to see what else is in that bag that came home with me.

Okay, whew, I have a drink in my hand. I've recovered enough to sing Paul a song by KT Tunstall while strumming feebly on my guitar and knocking him unconscious.

Could it be my voice?

I woke him just enough taking this picture for him to threaten my life if I post it or write about him, but I'm all about living on the edge. Plus I think it's called PAY BACK.

These are our new stools from Visitor Parking - aren't they beautiful and shiny and white? And is that chocolate or maybe juice stains I see? And are the bases all crooked? And look at the dirt and fur on the shiny chrome bases!

OH...NO...CAN'T...BREATH!

I could feel myself being sucked into a very bad mood this morning - and it was unavoidable. It was like the gravitational pull from a black hole and there was nothing I could do to save myself so may as well embrace it and enjoy the ride.

The only thing that might have helped would have been to stay home and focus on the backyard and my sad little garden. And spending $1,000 at Canadian Tire, Zellers, and Rona, maybe Costco. Yes, all that and perhaps a glass of wine with a splash of pomegranate juice. You know, for my heart.

And RIGHT NOW, trying to tune my guitar, I have just broken my first f$&*ing string.

But now it's 8:30 and I had Pat and Brenda (and kids) over for dinner and Paul is outside while I type trying to put together 2 really inexpensive adirondack chairs and I can't hear one word of complaint...through the thick glass of the back doors...and maybe because Futurama is on...really loud.

So the day did end much better than it started. Take that stupid black hole.

Illustrator course...DONE!

And might I add that I aced my 2 final tests last night (I'm hesitant to label them exams because that would give them a certain weight which they definitely did not deserve) with marks of 19/20 and 25/25.

But I can't figure out where I lost the one mark so I will lay blame on my instructor, he probably miscounted the check marks.

The woman beside me, who sat at the computer I have been using since the class began - which totally left me agitated because I am a creature of habit and quite anal and do like things as orderly as mistress universe can create for me and therefore cast her the evil eye as consequence (learn from me Satchel!) - actually tried to get me to help her! To cheat!

Not only am I anal and all the other qualities listed above, but I am also a perfectionist and a rule follower and DO NOT help people write final exams, especially those who steal my computer.

I began to feel bad for her as I quickly finished the practical part of the exam and she sat staring into my, I mean her monitor...so I broke down and mumbled sub-menu knowing that even though I handed her the solution to the first of her many issues, a stiff drink might have served her better.

Last night's party was fabulous with French Martinis, 80s hits and sushi enjoyed by all!

And big brother Bob has promised to leave me his cashmere blazer in his will after I spent the night following him around, stroking his back like a favourite pet.

I smartly didn't drink much, having only one martini. I tried for a second but it mysteriously went missing half way through consumption, which painfully reminded me of my wedding day when people kept stealing my drinks.

I mention smartly not drinking because after collapsing in bed at 3am, Jakob woke up at 4am coughing and crying "I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE! HELP ME!" And I said, "What..cough? Of course you can, go back to sleep." But being the good Mom that I am and with Paul passed out unconscious in the bed beside me, I dragged my weary body out of bed to get him water and cough medicine. Which he hates. Jakob hates cough medicine. This is so unlike him because normally anything that starts with MEDICINE is usually code for sugar.

So because it is now 4:20am and I have finally calmed Jakob, Arthur has decided that it is time to go outside and attacks Hamish in front of our bedroom door which again forces my weary body out of bed to yell at him and threateningly snap my fingers. This works until 6:30 am when he starts it up again.

Finally, it's 8:00am and even though Paul had promised he would take Satchel to swim class I know it's up to me because his blood alcohol level is still probably 3 times higher than the legal limit for purely functioning and outside of snoring, he's not moving.

This is when my morning becomes really obnoxious because Satchel cries the entire walk to swim, and between loud, body shaking sobs, he's casting snotty remarks and evil eyes my way.

Honey, I wanted to say, I am the QUEEN of casting daggers from my eyes and I just want to smirk at your feeble attempts. But I don't. I just grab his arm and continue dragging him to the pool.

15 MINUTES OF SATCHEL CRYING AND COUGHING AND CURSING, I am at my wits end and I'm sure I said a few things that most mothers probably would NOT let pass their lips but I just couldn't help myself. Plus I worked out I had only 4 hours of broken sleep and not even a full cup of coffee in my system...so I was in a weakened state.

We finally get to the pool and he sits down on the bench outside and REFUSES to go into the change room to get ready. He just sits there while I say you've got 3 minutes. 2 minutes. 1 minute before class starts. And I realize we've hit a milestone in our relationship. One which proves that I can no longer pick him up, carry him into the change room, force him into his swimsuit and drag him into the pool. And I can't hit him. and I can't GUILT him into getting his sorry ass in there either.

So we left the pool without his swimming. And I was so angry. I'm still angry though we have talked about commitment and responsibility and owning up and not everything in life being wrapped in a pretty package with a nice bow. And that sometimes we have to do things that are not optimal like a 9:00am swim class instead of a more civilized time like 11:00am but you do it. You suck it up. It's part of growing up.

We'll see what happens next Sunday because my other option is to have Paul take him because he CAN still pick him up and force him to change and get into the pool...but I would hate to think that our relationship has come to that.

But despite the small dark stain, my birthday weekend was otherwise fabulous and I can only thank my very sweet husband and wonderful friends and family.

Especially walking home to strawberry crepes and bacon for breakfast!

The birthday celebrations continue with a party tonight. My liver is so going to HATE me.

Shirley and Jon drove in for it and she is already plying me with coolers - she is a TERRIBLE influence.

It's my birthday today!

And right now, at a time when I thought I would be indulging in a pedicure, or picking up a few things for the party Paul's throwing tomorrow night, I am instead at home with Jakob (who was sent home from school for not feeling well) who is obsessed with my cleaning the inside of his bum after pooing. Yes, THE INSIDE. For the record, I have completely drawn the line and refuse.

I have never met anyone who is as obsessed with post bathroom cleanliness as he is. And it's not just cleaning himself, it's the concern that he might smell bad. He also constantly judges people on what they smell like and if he even suspects there might be a bit of an odour on you - wow...watch out. As Paul finds out regularly with Jakob yelling "DADDY - YOU STINK!!!!! YOU STINK LIKE POO!!!"

Thanks Jakob, just what the entire neighbourhood needs to hear.

I have just finished and sent off my final school assignment and now feel so free - well except for the final exam on Tuesday. Between work (which has been insanely busy and I am no longer flattered by being in such high demand), I have been managing the school newsletter and assignments for school - plus trying to squeeze in practice for the guitar lessons which I absolutely love. The guitar lessons that prove I have become retarded at the age of 44 with zero memory retention - which does pose a bit of a problem while learning - and that I have absolutely no finger dexterity at all.

But here I am in all my age old glory. Thank you photoshop, I love you most of all.

Is it really so wrong to be insanely estatic to find enough left over coffee from yesterday to make one very necessary cup?

I'm heating it right now.

Yesterday was an indulgence overload day - I ate more meals (probably 2 days worth) and drank more martinis and wine (probably 3 days worth) that I am feeling a tad wrecked today.

But it is glorious outside and I have a mound of cat poo in the backyard that's calling my name so I shall put my cup of day-old re-heated slop in a travel mug and some really big dark glasses and make my way outside.

Presenting...Satchel's face!

Satchel's getting his hair cut today.

It's going to be traumatic.

Todd from Ottawa visited last night and after dinner and wine we watched a couple of online sites that he recommended.

www.thestoryofstuff.com is only 20 minutes long and with the animation and an engaging narrator is definitely worth the watch.

And no, it's not a tribute to Thanksgiving.

And as much as I would like to lord Canada's practices over that of the States, I know that on a smaller scale through virtue of our smaller population, this is just as applicable.

The newest addition to the family - Baby Girl G, born to Dave & Jody on Friday, March 28 in London ON.






Seeing as it has now been days, I wonder if she has been given a name yet. Not that Baby Girl G isn't catchy and would make an awfully nice license plate and also guarantee a place in hip hop super stardom - I worry that she may have difficulty being taken seriously in daycare.

I'm home from work and it's Friday! Being a good mother I have introduced Jakob to something so FANTASTIC that I have once again secured my position as the most awesome mother ever.

I have introduced him to Easter chocolate and peanut butter. He has gone from having had the worst day ever (yet again) to being on top of the world and all it took was plunking him down at the island and handing him a knife, his chocolate and an opened jar of peanut butter.

But he is a bit concerned because he has found blood in his mouth so I am attaching 2 pictures of him holding out his tissue...so see if you can find the blood, I DARE YOU.



I'm also posting a shot of my fabulous new table to fit between the knock-off barcelonas - the wooden base was an incredible find from Elte and because it was missing it's original marble top had been reduced in price by 90%. Instead of marble or stone which I was initially going to do I opted to have a mirror cut which is a little optimistic of me living with 2+ boys but I loved the contrast in materials.

See how beautiful!


We are STILL waiting for our contractor to call so we can get the deficiencies taken care of - but it's only been a couple of weeks so I will force myself to be patient.

Some old man on the subway tried to pick me up yesterday afternoon. He said I was beautiful and was there any chance we could see each other again? Ummm, no.

He asked if I was really busy. I said "yes, very very busy" as I continued working on my sudoku.

All the while I'm thinking that maybe I would be a little more flattered if you looked like, oh I don't know, you had A JOB and even more importantly BATHED occasionally.

I was also told that I looked 32 by a woman in the office who is 32 so she would be the expert and I completely believe anything and everything she tells me going forward and if she ever needs a coffee...well I'm her bitch.

The things you find in the kitchen.

It's finally quiet in the house, both kids are asleep and Paul is watching television. I'm about to pass out myself from exhaustion. Arthur has taken to exerting his alpha male dominance (I'm laughing as I type this - the old queen that he is) over Hamish on a nightly basis - unfortunately this is always between 3 and 5am and always outside my bedroom door which forces me to get up out of my bed and throw something at him.

Satchel had a panic attack two nights ago and ended up sleeping with us - a panic attack or perhaps he just wanted to sleep with us but knew that if he asked, he would be met with a resounding NOOOOOO. Fortunately he's a much calmer sleeper than Jakob, unfortunately he kind of smells bad (a pre-teen stink caused by a general lack of interest in showering). It's hard to comfort even when you know they just want to be held but you're afraid you're going to pass out from whatever is emanating from that head of hair. And was that movement?

I'm done...and not just my drink either! It's time for bed.

Here's the old tart now - just waiting to get back at us tonight at oh say, 3:43 am. You can see it in his eyes, that and the demand for a lot more wet food waiting for him after this bit of humiliation.

Happy Easter!

I am such a slacker - how many days has it been since I last updated this blog? I'm surprised anyone checks in any more to find out how much I've had to drink or what Jakob's been up to.

Hmmm, now I'm getting the paranoid feeling that there is nobody out there, that I'm just writing to a big empty room.

Helllooooo! Anybody out there?

Oh well, this always has been a little on the self indulgence side.

So yes, I have a drink beside me BUT I have also have the kids painting blown out Easter eggs.

And I'm trying to fit in guitar practice, the taxes that are looming over my head, organizing the Easter surprises and egg hunt for tomorrow...and I can't find my baskets or special Easter bags ANYWHERE so I'm about to lose my mind.

I'd better post this or I will get completely caught up on the preparation and you will NEVER hear from me again - because I will have been institutionalized.

March Break: 1st day off work to spend quality time with the children.

I woke to the sounds of Jakob screaming, frustrated by his DS. I made a promise to myself that this would not push me over the edge. Instead I came downstairs smiling, asked them how they slept and made breakfast. Jakob ate only half saying he was full. He really wanted to get back to his DS. Satchel is boycotting Jakob. Ignoring any and all requests for help with the DS.

Our house smells like poo. Where is it coming from? I wonder. I throw out all the garbage, the food waste, clean the cat litter and Lysol everything. Next step will be febreezing the furniture. Thank god for chemical products.

I'm trying to get the kids out the door to go to Wizard World. I think my period is going to start. Satchel refuses to get dressed.

I'm going to drink more coffee. Is it too early to throw Bailey's into it?

It's March break and I'm taking Thursday and Friday off work to spend with the boys. I feel that I have successfully created enough bitterness and resentment in the children by sending them to daycamp for 3 days, that we can now fully enjoy Thursday and Friday.

But I will hold returning them to camp on Friday over their cute little heads if they do not do an exceptional job cleaning the bathrooms, folding the laundry and emptying the cat litter box.

Because, truly, what says March break combined with parental love more than that?

It's been a long winter.

The calm before the storm that was Paul's party.


The reindeer had a hangover. He's still recovering.

I look forward to the end of this week. These past 10 days have been...insane. I was sick with a serious head cold and then flu bug all while trying to plan Paul's birthday blow-out weekend.

But...it was a success! I had told Paul I was inviting the usual suspects from the neighbourhood because he would have been suspicious if I had said:

"Nope, not doing a thing. Just make sure you're home by 8pm YOU GOT IT?" He can read me like an open book.

So he was thrilled Saturday night with various people showing up that he never have expected. Especially Kathy and Geoff - 2 of our favourite people from just outside of London (it was very difficult to actually let them go home on Sunday).

In total, we had at least 25 people...all crammed in my kitchen. I had tried luring them into other rooms by spreading food around, but with no luck. They knew where the booze was.

Sunday I had Paul's family over for dinner. By then I was feeling wretched again. And this was with me abstaining from drinking all weekend - well 2 glasses of wine Saturday night which really doesn't count if you can hold the entire amount you drink in both hands at the same time.

Today is the last of the madness - this morning was the "get up early and sit by the computer with phone in hand in hopes to enroll the kids into summer camp programs and swim lessons run by the city" day. I was moderately successful but now have to try to switch sessions or cancel sessions if they will let me. And tonight is my 5th guitar lesso for which I must have clocked in probably...oh let's say...0 MINUTES OF PRACTICE this past week between cold/flu and the arranging of Paul's party.

Plus I started my Illustrator class last night so am now officially a student.

I'm also having some serious issues with Jakob - which could be compounded by Paul's work schedule (in that he's always at work). Not sure what direction to take - maybe family counselling? Poor little guy, he's tricky.