Two men

Can I just be mad for a minute?

I know.

So many others have it so much worse than me. I do, I know this.

I know.

I am just complaining. But you know, sometimes I just have to let it out.

These last several weeks have been filled with great GREAT things. Family, friends, food, travel, new experiences, new adventures. We have been incredibly blessed to have taken the last part of June and the entire month of July and just be. Wherever we feel like be-ing.

And in the same breath, these past few weeks have held some of the most irritating moments I can remember in my life as of late. Have you ever felt like...someone's out to get you? Like all these little bad things keep happening all in a row and after about the 6th one, all you can do is laugh and ask, "WHAT THE %$*!@* DID I DO TO TICK OFF THE POWERS THAT BE?"

I can't sleep.

That makes everything worse by the way.

Example:
Normal life...Van breaks down = angry expression and half a tub of Ben&Jerry's.
Sleep deprived life...Van breaks down = uncontrollable sobbing on the side of the road as you tear your clothes and pour ashes on your head, screaming in between sobs, "Why me? WHY-HY-HY-HY-HY MEEEEEEE?" knowing that you'll never drive again and thinking of how your children will be class rejects because they are not on the soccer team since their mother has no way of transporting them, because as aforementioned, you'll never drive again. Oh, and 2 tubs of Ben&Jerry's full fat, full whip, full calories double fudge everything covered in chocolate sauce with dark & white chocolate shavings on top.

Do you see a difference?

And when ALL your days' activities are tainted with these pretty sleep deprived glasses...oh it gets fun.

Needless to say, the van breaking down actually DID happen, although the response may have been a wee bit exaggerated...well, minus all the ice cream part...Oh Ben and Jerry, I never knew I could love two men so much...

Tired and HOT.

It is BLAZING, fry your egg on the sidewalk hot here on this side of Canada! Yes, my igloo melted and we are actually seeing the sunshine....waaaaay too much of it to keep any normal Canadian sane in my humble opinion.

So take your sleep deprived responses and couple them with seeing and hearing everything in echo from he heat, and physically being drained and having your stomach twisted in knots, and then also expected to pull in every nomination for the Supermom and Superwife awards, and you know what?

I'm done.

I am not going to think another second about the fact that we were only suppose to be up here (4 hours from home) for 3 days, and that I didn't leave a key with the neighbour so our fish are probably all dead. Or that we are fish-sitting our friends fish. And it's most likely belly up as well. Or that I have done a load of wash every night since I only packed one set of clothes for each of us. Or that it's the first of the month on Saturday and all the bills are due AND our van is broken and in my husband's comforting words, "possibly toast." Awesome. Or that my best friend in my city who lived 2 blocks from me just moved to another far away city on Thursday. And I am bleeding internally from that separation. Or that my mom is coming home tomorrow and I have to make it look as though 3 kids have not squished, smashed, popped, twisted, gnawed on, puked up, peed on, or damaged a thing in her beautiful 7 bedroom estate.

Hold on, phone's ringing...oh, it's Ben and Jerry. I have to go.

See

See Momma's pretty flowers.

See baby L see Momma's pretty flowers.

See baby L reach for Momma's pretty flowers.

See baby L pull one of Momma's pretty flowers.

See Momma's pretty flowers fall.

See baby L jump back in surprise.

See baby L wipe his tears.

See baby L's peace offering.

See Momma's new arrangement of pretty flowers that were salvaged.


Momma just loves this boy.

Bedtime Bliss

And there you have it.
A perfect rendition of how every evening looks at my house during the pre-bedtime marathon..er, routine.

What's that? You say I don't have 4 darling children? Well, I will inform you Daddy G tends to sit on my lap from time to time for a good story too.

Ok.
Who am I kidding?

This beautiful picture of serene bliss at bedtime is the farthest thing in MY head when 7:30 rolls around. Please tell me I'm not the only one.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE reading to my children...but at the end of the day when I am aching and tired and usually in dire need of an adult conversation, well, let's just say Cinderella may have gone from popper to princess in 4 pages rather than 24.

And EVERYONE knows how important oral hygiene is. Which is why I would never tell the girls that Mommy's too tired to run downstairs to get the toothbrushes and paste, so tonight we get to brush with our fingers and magic paste (water). At least they thought it was fun. I hope I'm not paying for a therapy bill 10 years down the line for it though. (Or a dental one for that matter.)

Bedtime baths.
Why I like them: You can use lavender soap/shampoo/bubble bath which really is not what it says at all I am convinced. This stuff is magic! Within 10 minutes of entering the tub infested with this miracle potion, I notice the yawns start to crack out. Then the rubbing of the eyes, followed by droopy lids and then finally the most bless-ed words to an exhausted Momma, "Mommy, can I go to bed now?" (Before that last word even gets out of her mouth, she finds herself tucked into her bed, light off and soft music playing. Yeah. I'm THAT good.)

Why I don't like them: Apparently, "Keep the water in the tub," are 6 words my children do not understand.

And finally, the great PJ debate. Baby L could care less what he wears to bed, being only one and all. In fact there have been many a night when he just may have donned a cute pair of ballerina leggings to bed. And he doesn't even bat an eye at me. But then there are the girls. Being GIRLS to start with, apparently gives them permission to demand the exact kind of personalized fashion that they need to express themselves. Well, it's no different with jammas. Why can't we all just sleep in our undies and keep it simple? Have you been to the Disney store lately? Do you know that Little Mermaid pj's with satin edging and full long multi layered skirting goes for 49 dollars? FORTY NINE, people! Heck, I'll buy a plain tee and draw the dang mermaid on it with puff paint! That should come to....oh...5.99. Much better.

At the end of the day, with all the drama that is to surely occur, is it any wonder why I just want to get a sheep dog to herd the children upstairs, firmly close the door as I run for the hills as fast as my feet will carry me? (Or run to McD's to swallow a chocolate milkshake Guinness world record speed?)

I absolutely adore my kids, no doubt about it. But when it's time for bed...I just need that super power click remote again....click....night night babies.

Version 2.9

I've noticed this trend.

When you're old...and it's your birthday...you just laugh and say you're 29.

Have you noticed this too?

Have you ever asked....why 29?

Is it because 30 is officially old?

Or because it's your last hurrah in the 20's, which is supposedly the glory years of freedom and discovering oneself?

In 4 days, I will be 29.

I am very intrigued to find out how glorious my life becomes for the next 365 days....starting Tuesday.

I do fully expect that suddenly my bank accounts will be bursting at the seams.

I do sense that my lady lumps will magically perk up as they simultaneously grow anther cup size.

If 29 is nothing short of fabulous, then of course, I fully expect to have Sven serving me martinis at 11, Pablo ready at a whim to massage my every ache, and Stephan (pronounced Stef-ON) ridding my pool of each and every buggy intruder.

And since my eggs will be rotten the day I turn 30, I better make one more perfect spawn this year to complete the zen like serenity in my home.

I also have a very strong sense that since everyone apparently wants to stay 29 forever, there must be some sort of personal super-power one receives upon the bless-ed day. And if I get to pick, I am choosing the pause-o-matic life remote...kinda like Adam Sandler's Click movie.

Whining child...click....silence.

Husband talking about film crews forEVER....click....stillness.

Best kiss you've ever had...click...holding on to that enjoyment. ;)

Thousands of fans screaming your name as your music echos in a packed out stadium...click...stare into Bono's eyes as he reaches out to you from the front row just to have you touch his hand....hey....my clicker....my super power!

So, I will surely take extra stock in the lessons of being a poor desperate housewife for these next 4 days.

For after that...I upgrade to version 2.9...

TWENTY NINE!! Let the lustrious, Bono-fied, immortality begin!

Home

We've been on the road for the past 22 days.

That's 3 weeks and one day.

Or 528 hours.

It seems like a lot longer, since plenty of those hours were spent in a cramped minivan filled with the sounds of hot, irritated children and the smell of stale cheezies and old Tim Horton's coffee.

Today, we brave out 5 more hours, and then we are..."home".

Can someone please tell me what exactly home is?

According to an ancient Proverb: People long to be at home. Your home is whatever place you long to be.

Hmm. Well, if that last proverb is true, then I guess my home is here:

or here:



or here:



or here:


(That would be front row at a U2 concert as Bono shakes his talented sweat all over the lucky few. ~ You didn't know sweat could be talented did you? Oh...it can. If it's Bono's.)

So, the definition of home really, could change every time you long to be somewhere new. And in my case, as a hormonal, mind changing woman....that could mean I have a LOT of homes!

So, as we travel back to the city that our house resides in, I am reminded, that today, actually, that is not my home. I do not long for this vacation to end and to go back to the same routines as we were in a month ago.

I still long for adventures. I still long to NOT cook. I still long to relax while the sound of grandparents and grandchildren's laughter fill the air.

The home IS apparently where the heart is, so I guess it makes total sense then, why I feel this aching emptiness as I pack up our four thousand suitcases, and head west, to a place that to me only really holds a house full of our stuff.

Julia-Goolia

Had I known her in grade 5, she's the one who would have yelled for me to hide under the bleachers with her to escape the mob of boys rounding the corner with sling shots aimed just at me.

In grade 7, she would have been the one who kicked the boy in the shin after he snaps your newly awkward bra strap for the 10th time that day.

In grade 9, she's the one who doesn't mock your totally lame poem you wrote for the mysteriously handsome new boy in 10th grade. (But encourages you to keep in in your journal for now, an NOT give it to him until your wedding day, cause then it'll be sweeter.)

In grade 10, she spends hours in the archery pit at camp with you as you both perfect your carvings in the wall of your initials and "his" initials...forever...and eternity....blah blah blah...

In grade 11, she's the one who sits in your closet till 3 in the morning with you, stuffing caramel coated chocolates in your face as you bawl and curse out that mysteriously handsome new boy who turned out to be a not so mysterious jerk.

In grade 12, she's the one who pours over YM Prom Dress magazines with you, looking for the perfect piece, only to discover, that ordering anything from a magazine and expecting it to fit perfectly probably is not the best idea.

She's the one who forgives you for stealing a boyfriend....or two. (Even if it takes 4 years, its better than never.)

She's the one who after being out of contact for 4 years, writes you a letter, telling you that her heart was absolutely devastated when she heard of you losing a baby. And, you really believe her.

She's the one who travels right across her country to come hug your fat 7 month pregnant body and make up lost time like like there is no tomorrow.

She's the one, who unless she lived RIGHT next door to you, will always live too far away. And in this case REALLY does live too far away...who likes Texas anyways??

She's the one who has been there, time and time again. Who exemplifies what a true friend is. Who says it like it is. Who is an example to many, yet humble in this fact. She's the one who has taught me how to be a better friend. And when it comes right down to it...though many many love her...she is, and always will be, MY Julia-Goolia.MINE MINE MINE!!

AND I GET TO SEE HER IN 22 DAYS AND COUNTING!!!!!


When we were 15...


When we were 18...


My Jewels now...