the man

I feel as though I should clarify the term 'the man'. When I reference the man in my blog I am referring to Darcy, my husband. I know you know that. I don't say it like "Yo! You the MAAAAN!" You know.... like that. I say it like "the man" - like half of the chaotic universe we have created together over here.



I am the woman, he is the man. King and Queen..... like that.



Sometimes he IS 'the maaaan'. Like when he does stuff like this:


(he built this house ALL. BY. HIMSELF. Which is nuts)


Last week the man became a murderer. He killed chivalry. The week before he seriously wounded it and then last week he stomped it to death. The stress of the reno has turned my sweet husband into this preoccupied, overworked, cold-blooded killer. Let me tell the story.

A couple of weeks ago, while he was at work and I was running errands strictly reno related he texted me and invited me for lunch. I was close so naturally I said yes. Who wouldn't want to go out with a man dressed like this?



Anyway, after we ate, he paid the bill while I used the washroom. When I came out he was nowhere to be found. I figured he was also in the washroom so I waited. After a different man came out of the one-man washroom I knew my man wasn't in there. I went outside, he wasn't there either. So I walked all the way to the car, which was a jaunt. There he was sitting on the curb in front of our car. I explained that leaving me in a restaurant without any explanation isn't conducive to the woo. And just because we have been married for forever doesn't mean the woo shouldn't happen. He said he was sorry. Mmm hmm.

So last week, while he was at work and I was out running errands strictly reno related, I texted him to see if he wanted lunch. He told me to meet him at the same restaurant. When I got there he was there with our realtor, our finisher and two of our finisher's guys. Me and five men for lunch.... when was the last time that happened? The man had ordered for me and mixed my soup just how I like it. Nice woo, I thought. When lunch was done the man, myself, our realtor and our finisher were all walking towards our vehicles. The man wanted to borrow a tool from the finisher so they were going towards his vehicle as I turned to go towards mine. I looked back to say bye to the man and he had his head down, hands in pocket, completely oblivious to my very existence. The finisher and our realtor both said bye to me and waved. The man? Nothing.

Dead. Chivalry is dead. The man killed it. My poor husband has no multitasking abilities. When he is just plain working he can manage his job and his life splendidly. When he is stressed out? He has blinders on which soul purpose is to get him through the task and nothing else. I know he is stressed when he begins to act a little selfish and grumpy. He is stressed.

It's okay..... I'll wait for him.


(maybe while I'm waiting I'll take some updated pictures of our family..... good grief!)

willacy

This is what greets you as you turn the corner to go to my little brown house.

This is Willacy Drive.

Tomorrow the painting starts.

mr. computerlandman

Dear man from computerland,

You just called me and at first I thought you were a real human being, you sounded just like one but then I realized that you were a computer designed to trick me into listening to you. You called me on the phone to tell me that there is "a need to open the lines of communication" between me and my credit card company. You told me to call you back at my earliest convenience. This is fascinating to me on so many levels. For one thing, since the call came up as unknown name and number I figure you're pretty dang lucky I answered the call in the first place. Second, since I did answer, I would hazard a guess and say that the exact moment I picked up the phone may just have been my earliest convenience. Thirdly, I know there is a zero balance on that credit card, so basically, I don't feel the same pressing need to open the lines of communication as you do.

I don't think I'll be calling you back, Mr. Computerlandman.

And for future reference, man from computerland, if you want to talk to me then have a real person, and not a trickster like yourself, call me. Then when I pick up the phone, which I don’t normally do when it is an unknown name and number that real person can openly communicate with me right then and there.

Thanks so much for sparing me a moment of your valuable time.

Love,

Catherine

catie's randomness

Today is random. My mind is all over the place so my post may as well be.

The man calls me Catie. If he calls me Catherine I know he's serious, if not angry. I don't like it when he calls me Catherine.

My brother and sister sometimes call me Catie but mostly they call me Catherine, because that's my name.

No one else is allowed to call me Catie. And.... I hate Cathy, so don't call me that.

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Last night for Family Home Evening I took the children geocaching. One of them against her will. Suck it up princess and smile.... thank-you!




and yes, three of them are still in their pj.s. It was a holiday coupled with a late night before, give me a break.






And the man is missing. He has been missing from 5 of the last 6 FHE's. He is working or so I thought. Shortly into our adventure he texted me.

man: where are you?

woman: geocaching. where are you?

man: on the couch.


Awesome..... We missed him by 5 minutes. Isn't that always the way? See, he told me he was working late and then changed his mind. Thanks for the heads up Mr.Darcy.

Highlight of the evening? Easy! It was when Holden said "This Family Home evening sucks."

Wow! I am doing a great job with these kids, I deserve an award or something.

The irony is that the child who said that is also the child who asked me 376 times this past weekend if we could go geocaching.

I'm confused.

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On a happier note I just want everyone to appreciate how hard my life is. This is what I have to look at every morning when I come down the stairs.



I know. It's rough. And then at night this is what takes my attention away from the important things like laundry and the tv:



Shame on you! Blasted beautiful sunset!

Seriously though, I may weep when I have to leave this gorgeous pocket of the earth that is as close to mountainous perfection as I've ever lived.

Have I mentioned that I love the mountains?

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I need someone to teach me how to do that thing I see on blogs everywhere where there is a word in a different colour and you can click on it and when you do it directs you to something else.

How do I do that?

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The world of blogging is fascinating to me. You write. People read. Some comment but most don't. I'm not sure how I feel about this. My blog is only of couple of months old so I'm sure I will do one of two things. One, quit because the unknown is simply too much to handle. Or two, get used to it and just assume that someone is enjoying it somewhere out there.

Who's readin' ma blog??

sunday dinner

This is what driving to sunday dinner does to the wee one. It's such a beautiful drive through the country. Having to look at her sleeping face isn't too bad either. Besides the fact that she looks like she would be decapitated if the man were to slam on the brakes I think she looks very peaceful.

friday

This is what I did yesterday.

Woke up early. Kids didn't have school but my body didn't care and woke up at 6 anyway. Thanks wicked body.

Played on the computer for what seemed like FOREVER but the kids had no school so what was I going to do all day?

Tempted the children with some geocaching. They wanted video games and I told them there would be no consideration given to electronics until their rooms were cleaned. They cleaned, I played on the computer. Is that electronic?

They finished and wanted gaming. I said no. How about geocaching? How about lunch, they said. Yes, it was lunch time.

We ate lunch.

We went geocaching. Mom won, shocking. Only the boys came which was a good thing because it turned into quite the event. Hiking steep hills, prickly bushes, swamps..... fun but dangerous for a four year old.

My phone died and the teen wiped out and got road rash so we went to the video store.

Now I'm tired, so I played on the computer again but that got boring so I read. I let the boys play with the computer for a bit.

Then......COSTCO. Me and five kids to Costco for dinner. This small town thing is wearing off on me and now going into the big city is almost more than I can stand. It takes some serious mind manipulating to think that lil ol' me can handle Costco with 5 kids at supper time. Wait....... I'm tough, or so I used to be. We gave it a go and breezed through it.

On the way home Chandler said something hilarious that I can't share because it would offend but I laughed for 10 straight minutes. In fact, it won quote of the day but like I said I can't share. I only told the man and when my sister calls I will tell her and probably my mom too.

The kids watched The Tooth Fairy and ate popcorn. Then they went to bed LATE. It was like 8:15.

The man and I started to watch the epic saga 'Che' and I promptly fell asleep. It had been a really big day, if you know what I mean. I was tired. So I slumbered on the couch until 10:30 when the man kicked the teenager to bed and dragged me up the stairs. I had guilt that the poor kid had to go to bed at 10:30 on a Friday night. I felt terrible about it for about 3 minutes until my head hit the pillow and the ear plugs went in.

What a day. Good thing I chose this glamorous life because I'm not sure the universe could have handled me and my endless amount of energy and imagination and desire to change the world with my awesomeness if I had chosen NOT to be mommy and piddle around all day.

en suite-ness

Once upon a time there was a boy and girl who were looking for an old house to buy that they could make beautiful together and sell. They went tile shopping. They found a really expensive tile that they both agreed would look great as the backsplash in the new kitchen, wherever that was to be. They were surprised that they both loved the tile and were pleased at the prospect of this new joint venture. An opportunity to work together on something they have both always wanted to do. They bought a house. And, a sample of the tile.

Fast forward three months. Man and woman have come to terms with the fact that they both have their jobs and if one interferes with the other ugliness happens. So the man, fixes stuff, moves stuff, builds stuff, sues previous home owners, hauls stuff and apparently gets to keep the ugly window and pick the doors while the woman gets to pick the colors, the countertops, the cupboards, the light fixtures, the trim and baseboard, the carpet, the tile and the stone. Everything but the doors, I know, weird. And she gets to paint and lay tile now too, which is fine, it doesn't mean anything if you don't work for it, right?

The woman based the entire color scheme of the house on this backsplash tile. The kitchen will match, the paint will match, the floor tile will match, it will be beautiful.

Then she changed her mind on the back splash.

It would look better in a bathroom, she thought. The en suite.

Now the en suite is plumbed, framed and drywalled and I think failed inspection but plumbing is not my job so the man can deal with it. I can pick the tile. Bathrooms require lots of tile. I have found what I want. Naturally it's expensive. This is where the problem comes in. I made a stink about the doors because they were expensive and I wanted to cheap out on the doors. Some unfair things were said by the man and he won the door fight. He really knows how to work it!

Now I want the pricey tile that he thinks is too expensive. I want the pricey tile because it flows so well. The room is small and I really want it to be cohesive and look like it is one unit as opposed to a few things that just sort of go together. If it was my bathroom I would I want it to be beautiful and so I can only assume that whoever buys this house would want the same thing. So it is a little more expensive than the cheaper alternative, the same alternative you see everywhere you go (no offense). It's beautiful and may just sell the house, which, by the way, is the same argument he used to win the door fight.

So I think my mind is made up. I want the glass tile that goes with the backsplash which is now the en suite focal point.

I know I probably won't win this one since I want the really super expensive pulls for the kitchen drawers. But I will fight for my tile. What kind of decorator would I be if I didn't at least fight for the tile?



Post edit: I have discovered a new alternative that I am quite happy with and is also cheap. So I am happy AND the man is happy. Marital bliss has been achieved..... temporarily.

the difference.....

The difference between now and then is that then I knew nothing and now I know more, about me and about life. It seems ironic to me that the time in one's life when really important decisions are to be made just happens to be the same time that one knows nothing.

If I knew then what I know now I most definitely would have been a naturopath.

go to bed

Because of some scheduling issues tonight and in an attempt to help people get to where they need to be and to also help me out with some carpooling, I have two extra children for a bit this evening. I am patiently waiting for the parents of two little boys to come get their children. It is 7:53 pm. So I have 5 kids who are still up watching a movie. Two of them aren't mine and two of three that are mine are approaching an hour past their bedtime. I just finished listening to my 7 year old ask his friend who is 8 what time he goes to bed. This is how the convo went:

mine: what time do you go to bed?

not mine: 8:30

mine: WHAT???!!!??? I have to go to bed at 7!

not mine: you go to bed at 7? Oh........

mine: my brother gets to stay up til 8, he's so lucky. And my sister gets to stay up til 9 but she has to go to her room at 8:30. Our teenager goes to bed when my mom does. I wonder why it is so different at your house.

YEAH! ME TOO!! Why the heck is it so different at everyone else's house? What time do these parents go to bed? Don't they need to sleep? When do they get up? Aren't they tired?

I. Am. So. Tired.

I go to bed at 10, unless I am out, which is hardly ever. I don't go to sleep at 10, I like to read. I probably should go to sleep at 9 because I AM SO TIRED.

I get up at 6:45, whether I like it or not. I absolutely NEED some quiet time in the evening. So the children have to go to bed early. It's simple. Or is it?

I don't get how the rest of the sleep deprived world works....... or functions, for that matter. Besides my sister, who has also adopted the brilliance of the early bedtime in her family, I feel all alone in the world on this. How can this be?

Early to bed, early to rise. Isn't that how it goes? If 8:30 is early for an 8 year old what on earth is 7? I just don't know anymore..... I'm so disillusioned.

People! PUT YOUR KIDS TO BED!! They're tired, they want to sleep.

Trust me - they do.



Post edit: I thought I'd let you know how my night turned out since everything happened sans schedule, which is opposite of how I like it. I got my kids to bed by 9. The older ones thought it was unfair because the younger ones got to stay up longer than they did. My response? "I don't care. Go to bed." So then I finally started to watch the shows I would have watched at 7:30 if my schedule had happened. I finished watching Biggest Loser (pvr'd) at 10:40 ish and was in bed at 11. Chatted with the man until he fell asleep, frustrated that I keep him up so late. My last clock check was 11:51. That's too late! Now I'm tired....again.

anxiety

In an effort to alleviate some of my anxiety I thought I would do the opposite of what I have been doing. Lately there has been an issue that has plagued my mind. It haunts me in my sleep, or lack thereof, and sends me racing to the toilet when Montezuma's revenge hits if I think too much about it. So I just don't think about it. I'm not entirely sure this is working for me.

I don't think about it, or try not to anyway because there is nothing I can do about it right now. Simple as that.

I am a planner though so not thinking about it at all eats me up inside. I have to plan, it's who I am. But how does one plan when there is nothing to plan at the current moment. This type of thinking drives the man NUTS! He's not a planner though so he simply does not understand. In order to keep his anxiety down I don't plan things with him until there is something to plan so he thinks I am not actually stressing about it, but I am. This does not contribute to marital bliss, that I can assure you. I'm occasionally unhappy with the man because I don't feel free to talk about what is bothering me and because he knows me so well he anticipates what may be bothering me and in an attempt to 'fix' it (like men love to do) he thinks about it on his own time which makes him upset with me. We are like night and day though so when we finally come together to make some plans they are ALWAYS different and then we have to discuss, negotiate, argue, cry (that's me) and then someone gets to compromise. He would say that is always him but because I am sitting in a house in Cochrane right now I can guarantee that it isn't always him.

So what is this life altering, stomach upsetting, sleep stealing issue?

Where am I going to live in September when the lease on this house runs out?

It is almost June. The reno is not done, although it is on it's way. I can't look at a house to buy until we sell the reno. Let's say (hopefully and hypothetically) the reno gets done by June 30 and we list it. Let's say (optimistically) that it sells in the first week or two it is listed. Then let's say the perfect house in Tuscany is for sale (which it actually is right now but most likely won't be in July) and I buy it and I can move in the last week in August. This dream list of events would be the perfect plan. A plan that would allow me to sleep at night, soundly, with no strange noises oozing from my stomach region.

What if the worst case scenario happens and the reno gets done but it doesn't sell. Well that's simple. We move into it.

This is the part I refuse to think about AT ALL. How will I feel if I have to move to Willow Park? And would I want to stay there? Or would I keep trying to sell? We can't foster there but the mortgage is cheap. I could walk to the mall but the ward is full of old people. My children would hate me but....... I've got no upside for that one. Would I ever see my sister again? Would my brother and his wife come to visit?

I know in my heart that I would not want to stay there so that would mean another move. It could be worse, much worse and I know that.

So the good news is: I feel better. At least I own a house and won't be homeless.

The reno has a sweet theatre and if I have to move there then I will go into that theatre and cry while I watch my favourite movies and try to NOT think about another move with 5 children who have to change schools every time I uproot their little bodies against their will.

Also, I must remind myself that I signed up for this but in all my wisdom and brilliance I threw in an 'out clause' when I agreed to the moving and renovating.

I am one smart planner.

sunday slack

Yesterday was Sunday. The man left early, as per usual, for his meetings. I got up and showered and bathed Amelia and hollered at the rest of them to get dressed for church, we had to leave a little bit early and the teens hate that. I wolfed down a banana and chugged a diet pepsi on the way. Bad, I know!

For some reason I sweat while I get ready for church, I think it's stress. I shower and do my makeup and blow dry my hair and then straighten it. Then I get dressed but by this point I am sweating. It's silly because I do this exact routine every day but on Sundays I sweat. By the time I get to church I have a few kinks in my hair I had just spent time ironing out and mostly this just irritates me. It's a very delicate procedure.

The children all feed themselves breakfast on Sunday and of course they all have to have different things. I ignore the state of the kitchen, as I do every Sunday morning, on my way out the door.

I love church, especially yesterday because I got to go to Relief Society and anyone who has spent time in Primary knows what I am talking about. We had a special meeting for the sisters so the Young Women filled in for us in the primary for the third hour. It was chaos. When I went in after to gather my children my oldest, Cicely (12), who had been helping came to me and said this, "Get me out of here! I hate primary SO MUCH!" I laughed so hard and felt her pain all at the same time.

Lunch was waffles. Half an hour of me standing at 2 waffle irons trying to keep up to the little mouths that are so famished on Sundays. Why are we all so hungry? Now, I'm tired. The night before the man and I went to see Iron Man 2 and we stayed up late.... too late. I am tired.

I leave the mess which has now joined the breakfast mess and plant my butt on the couch for the next EIGHT HOURS. It was pure bliss. I did get up on occasion to use the potty or to get a child something or to refill my drink which was often water but mostly not. I did make a nice supper while I watched AFV - that show kills me.

Then Survivor started at 6, which was a little surprise because I forgot it was the finale. You can just imagine my euphoria.
During a commercial break I threw two kids in bed and told them that because they got to stay up late (7:15) they wouldn't get a story tonight. I know, BAD! I'll read them two tomorrow..... no I won't.

At nine there was nothing on so I read my scriptures and then started a new book. I got tired and contemplated bed. Before I got up I said to the man "I would give anything to have 4 Sundays a week and totally miss Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday." He agreed.

Then I got up and looked at the kitchen.

I realized then that I NEED Monday............ to pick up the sunday slack.

silly greek chili

I went to a church function last night for the ladies. It was lovely and in the most beautiful location ever! We ate food, lots of food. Mormons know their food and the value of that food at functions. I took something healthy that I knew I could eat guilt free. Turns out everyone loved it. It is in the Eat, Shrink and Be Merry cookbook if you have it. If not here is the recipe:

Silly Greek Chili (pg. 185)
2 tsp olive oil
3 boneless skinless chicken breasts cut into 1 inch cubes
1 cup chopped red onions
1 cup diced zucchini
1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
2 tsp minced garlic
1 tbsp chili powder
1 tsp each ground cumin and dried oregano
1 can (19 oz) diced tomatoes with sun-dried tomatoes (good luck finding this-I just use regular diced toms)
1 1/2 cups of favourite pasta sauce (I use Classico Spicy Red Pepper because it's SPICY-sort of)
1 cup canned chick peas (I use the whole can because we love chick peas)
1 tbsp brown sugar
freshly ground black pepper
minced fresh cilantro
feta

Heat olive oil in pan and cook the chicken until it is lightly browned but not entirely cooked. Add onions, zucchini and red pepper and garlic. Cook and stir until veggies begin to soften

Stir in chili powder, cumin and oregano. Cook 1 more minute. Add tomatoes with juice, pasta sauce, chick peas and brown sugar and pepper. Bring to boil. Reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 15 minutes.

The recipe says to add the cilantro and the feta but I prefer to let people add their own.

Enjoy!

P.S. Thanks Rhonda for putting me onto this recipe. It is a fave over here at the Dabels!

simply sleep

I know you love to hear about my PMS but I love to talk about it so if you don't like it TURN AWAY.

Sometimes, when I have it, I don't sleep well. I fall asleep no problem but if I wake up at any point in the night I am done for. Anxiety kicks in and my mind moves a million miles an hour and everything seems so catastrophic in the middle of the night. I should keep a pen and paper by my bed so I can write down the ridiculous amount of drama that runs through my mind. Why is everything so exaggerated during the night? For the last 4 nights I haven't been sleeping more than 4 or 5 hours. Now for my dad this would be fine, for whatever reason he doesn't need as much sleep as most, or my brother Vance for that matter but whatever. For me.... it just doesn't work.

I get the worst headaches that nothing will touch except sleep but there is no sleep so I live with smashing headaches. I feel lethargic and just plain sick to my stomach.

Last night I felt desperate for sleep. The kind of desperate that new moms feel when they hear their babies squeak for the 37th time in the night. The kind of desperate that makes you think if someone crosses you they may lose their life. Hanging on by a thread kind of desperate.

So I took some Simply Sleep made by Tylenol. Did it work? Who knows. I'm still so out of it I can barely see straight. I took the little pills and waited. I probably shouldn't admit this but I kind of really like the moment when chemicals take over your body and leave you in a little world of chemically induced bliss. Since I'm not a drug addict this only happens on rare occasion when I pop some Advil LiquiGels or drink too much Diet Pepsi. I waited for the moment that the pills took over. I got bored and fell asleep......

So I guess they sort of worked because even though I did wake up 12 times I always went back to sleep. It was hard getting up with the kids for school and now I am sitting here in front of the computer with glazed eyes and drool on my shirt. I just can't shake the foggy grog.

Verdict: I don't care for the Simply Sleep.





P.S. Editing this was a true act of love and patience as my brain and fingers can't seem to coordinate. I should have posted the first draft.....it was in Greek.

reno ramblings

The drywall has finally started this week at the little brown house. I am hopeful that things will flow a little smoother now that this poor beaten house is getting put back together. It's funny that all of the nightmarish things that have happened to us while we renovate we fully anticipated; but, this knowledge doesn't make the actual nightmare any easier to deal with.

I feel like we are living in a reality tv show.

The demo was fun, but it always is. Stuff gets bought, this is fun too, until the money runs out. Electrical turns out to be ten times more work than thought, typical. Adding a bathroom and moving a laundry room means moving plumbing, changing plumbing, upgrading plumbing. Which means wrecking more walls, pulling out more drywall, changing, changing, changing...... The roof starts to leak, also typical. But its tar and gravel, naturally, so try finding someone who REALLY does know anything about that. Then that person tells you it will cost gads of money to fix it, money we don't have. So the man fixes it, but that's what he's there for, right?

There is SO much to do and it feels like nothing is getting done. But it is.....

Now there is some drywall. Some drywall is better than no drywall. And this means that soon the kitchen will be built and the tile will be laid and the custom front door will be built as well as the custom railing and the old patio will get demo'd and the new one built and hopefully the legal issues with the hot tub will be resolved but probably not and then the deck around it can be built and the hardwood will be stripped and stained as well as added to the master and the fireplaces will be stoned and the baseboards and trim will get put in and the doors hung but they will be the solid doors and not the hollow doors and then the painting can begin. The painting........

And never mind the toll this takes on a marriage, but I will save that little treasure for another day.

Today is all about the drywall.

is it wrong?

Is it wrong
to fill your
child up with
juice before
you go to the
park so that
when she has to
pee
shortly after you
get there

YOU

can

come

home?



I did that. But I blame my genetics (again) for the inherent disdain I feel for the park. I have no memories of my mother taking me to the park. Clearly, it isn't my fault.

mother's day madness

I had a great Mother's Day. I really did. Here are some of the highlights:

A convo between my two lovely sons as I got ready for church:

Holden: MOM! Tell Jack to stop licking my stuff!

Me (as I straighten my hair up in my room so I have to holler down): Jack! Stop licking Holden's stuff!

Jack: But.... I like licking his stuff.

I love Sunday mornings.
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A picture of me with my babies before church taken by the man.


Nope....don't like it.



Mmmm... do it again.



Everyone LOOK at dad!!!



Huh????



?????????????



Getting warmer



There you go!
Thanks Mr. Darcy

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A mani/pedi with the four year old:











She's good!
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And the chocolate! Holy crap the chocolate!!!


I told you not to get me chocolate! Whatever, I'll eat em.



Thanks Cicely!



The chocolates that we got at church that the man was in charge of that I may or may not have completely taken over so as to get exactly what I wanted. (My interference put him $42 over budget and he did wrap them but I made 100 little quotes so I feel entitled)



Seriously people!?!?! Have you not seen my bum?? (Okay, I asked for these but that's not the point.)



This is not chocolate, and not the right scent for that matter, but I still love the thought and I will go and get the right scent as soon as I'm done here!
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There was also a steak dinner thrown in there somewhere that was delish mostly because I didn't have to make it. (Today I will have to clean a big chunk of the disaster it created but I'll do that with a happy heart because I love the man)
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And then there was this.....



....and who wouldn't love being the mother to that little creature?

dead bodies and traffic violations

Last night I took Mr. Darcy on a date. Since we live in Cochrane everything feels so far away so you have to add a couple of hours to everything you do if you need to drive very far into the city. He was late getting home from work, of course, so it was a mad dash to get downtown to see the Body Worlds and the Brain exhibit. For whatever reason I felt compelled to go see this bizzaro exhibit I've been hearing so much about.

The exhibit was, um, interesting. It was so hot in there my fingers were like sausages when we got out. Many dead bodies, stripped of their skin is what welcomed us. I knew that's what it was but still..... They were all posed in different positions with certain organs made visible for our viewing pleasure. There was yoga lady and baseball guy and the ponderer. There were lots of body organs for us to stare at and from what I could see most of us staring were doing it with looks of 'disgust meets fascination' on our faces.

The most interesting part to me was the fetus section. It was sectioned off and very private. It had a bunch of little wee ones whose existence was short lived. They were perched in little beds of black and looked so sweet. The dead pregnant lady was sickly fascinating.

The exhibit, on the whole, was a bit of a let down. I didn't like the way it flowed in the Science centre, it sort of felt like they just crammed it in wherever they could. It was dark and gloomy and so, so hot. It was less than an hour to get through the whole thing and I was hoping that for the price I paid to get us in there would have been more of, I don't know, something. The experience cost $53 for the two of us.

On our way to the restaurant we got pulled over for having an expired license plate. This is slightly annoying to me since I asked the man (and I asked him specifically because his name is on all the registrations) to take care of all the vehicles and their registrations over a month ago. Clearly, he didn't do that. $230 bucks.

We went to Moxies for dinner and their fabulous White Chocolate Brownie. It was delish. $42.

We were driving Memorial to get home and I had a memory of when I was dating Mr. Darcy. I was on Memorial and saw a bright flash of light and then received a speeding ticket in the mail a few short weeks later. I began to reminisce out loud when we saw a bright flash of light. Who knows the price of that one since the vehicle we were driving ISN'T REGISTERED!!! Hmmm, maybe they won't know where to send it. One can hope.

So, all in all, a good night because I got to spend it with the man and I really like the man.... even if this particular evening ends up costing us $500 or more.

chandler

My nephew lives with me. He's 16. He asks the most random questions ALL. DAY. LONG. We'll be watching tv and he'll ask me how much money a certain actor makes a year. Or he'll spew forth some deep philosophical pondering that would take me a year to digest. He's a sharp, quick witted, funny kid that keeps me on my toes.

On our way up the stairs where I am about to fall exhausted into bed he begins this conversation with me:

him: If I step on a nail tomorrow at work and it goes into my foot I am not working anymore.

me: Yes you are. And when you get home I will take you to the ER to get a tetanus shot.

him: What I refuse the shot?

me: You won't

him: What if I do?

me: Then you can get tetanus and die, if that's what you really want (drama is sometimes called for in conversations with children. Scaring them them works..... right?)

him: Would that be suicide?

me: Ummmm.........

Oh Chandler, how many times a day do I say "Oh Chandler"?

genetics

Every night as I load up the dishwasher I am amazed at the amount of cups my family goes through in a day. Today I decided to keep track.



There are 7 people in this house and 21 cups on the counter. I know for a fact that I didn't use one of them and the man only used one when he came home from work. So that leaves 20 cups and 5 children. For some reason this is super irritating to me. It was irritating to my mother as well when I was a kid growing up. She never really nagged about stuff, that I can remember, except the cups. Why did we need so many cups? Why do my kids need so many cups?

I guess irritation runs in the genes.

hearty matters

I have a funny heart. It has a strange beat and has over the past twelve years given me some grief. But not anymore. It started with my first pregnancy. It would race for hours every morning. After many trips to the ER a cardiologist finally decided it was a "hormone conflict" with the baby and would go away with the delivery. Mostly, it did, but when she was about 6 months old I had a terrible episode while taking a golf lesson, I thought I might die. As I reached my peak of panic it stopped racing and I decided to ignore it.

There were no other problems until 3 months after my second was born. One scary morning, while I was alone at home with a 2 year old and a 3 month old it raced so fast I couldn't feel the beat at all. I felt faint and sweaty and panicked that I would die there and it would be hours before Darcy came home and found the babies all alone. I tried to crawl to the phone, it was so far away. When I finally got close I felt blood rush to my head and my senses came back. I counted my heart beat and it was fine. When my mom came over she told me I didn't look well, I sort of retold the story of my morning (trying not scare her) she talked me into the walk-in clinic. Naturally, they were useless.

About a year later, I was at the scrapbook store and it started to race. It was mild but frustrating and sorted itself out quickly. It was then that I decided that if it ever did it again I would seek medical advice. Well, that decision was made for me when a few months later I was working out at the rec centre. Cicely was at play school and Jack was in the little day care they had at the centre. I was stepping off the elliptical after an hour long workout and it started to race. I was already dripping with sweat and my heart beat was already elevated, this just made everything that much more uncomfortable.

I prayed it would stop. I sat on a bench and prayed and prayed. I felt like the responsible thing to do was to tell someone so that Jack would be taken care of if something were to happen. So I went to the front desk and gave them a brief run down of what was happening, gave them Darcy's cell number and explained where my two darling babies were. No matter what, I explained, they need to be taken care of.

A lifeguard came to see me and take my pulse, but there wasn't one. Not one we could find. They called 911. In all my humiliated glory the fire department, the police and the paramedics all came to my rescue. People, in all their tactless ignorance, gathered around to stare, while the paramedics put me on a stretcher with an oxygen mask and tried to figure out what was up. They decided to move me to the ambulance, where it was more private. They were so cute!

My heart rate was over 270 and my blood pressure was 70 over 0. Yes, you read that right 70 over 0. Crazy! Then they gave me the best advice. Bear down. PUSH like you've never pushed before. Push until you think your head will explode. Go, they said. So I pushed and I pushed, for as long as I could. All of a sudden my world went back to normal. My heart stopped racing, my blood pressure came back up. My lips turned from blue to pink and so did my cheeks. My two cute paramedics high fived each other. Yes they did.

They took me to the hospital where they proceeded to tell everyone how awesome they were when they saved my life. They were young and cute, who was I to begrudge them their glory?

After some tests I was diagnosed with SVT: Supraventricular Tachycardia..... a racing heart. I have three options: daily medication that will inevitably give me osteoporosis, surgery, or go to the ER during an episode where they will administer adenosine to stop it. I chose number three.

When I was 11 weeks pregnant with my third baby I had an episode I couldn't stop myself with the pushing (Vagal maneuvers). I went to the hospital where I had to wait exactly 0 seconds for medical attention (if you ever want to be seen quickly tell them you are pregnant and having an episode of SVT - they work FAST!)

After two rounds of adenosine (nightmare all on it's own) and no success things got hairy around there. They needed to shock me but doing that in the first trimester would abort the baby, most likely. There was only one other choice. A new medication that would work but may be harmful to the baby - no one knew. I had been there about 5 hours and I was feeling terrible and uncomfortable. Two cardiologists told me to take the meds. I just didn't know what to do. I was so upset. All I could think about was that my heart may stop racing on it's own and then it would be fine but if I take the meds I might harm or kill my baby. After some contemplation and a whole lot of tears a woman doctor came and sat with me and held my hand. She said that my heart was a muscle and eventually, when muscles get tired they just quit. She said, if it were her, she'd take the medication. She said my two other babies needed me, she was right. I stared at the little paper cup with those 6 pills in it and couldn't believe that this was so unknown in this day and age. Why couldn't anyone tell me I would be fine and so would my baby?

I took the pills.

One hour later my heart stopped racing and they discharged me. Good luck they said. We hope everything is all right.

Six months later everything WAS all right when Holden was born at 9 pounds and 5 ounces and perfectly beautiful. Relief.

Nine months later I had the surgery (also a nightmare). It went well, the bad beat box was zapped and I was cured.

Fast forward almost 6 years to the end of 2009. My heart starts beating funny again. Not racing and not all the time but strange uneven beats that make me feel weird. Tingly arms, heaviness in my chest, shortness of breath, disconcerted mind. I told my doctor. Before long I was at the hospital getting a Holter put on (a portable heart machine that gave me the worst rash). Not long after that I was in the ER (again, no waiting) getting an ECG because the beating was so severe. And not long after that I was sitting in a room with my new cardiologist. She was nice and told me she was 99% certain there was nothing wrong but she needed to be sure and an ultrasound was the only way. April 2010 I had the ultrasound. My heart is lovely and healthy but chooses to beat funny every now and then. Everyone has these funny beats but for whatever reason mine are extreme. "Sorry about your luck but you'll be fine," she says. I'll take it! She told me that if the SVT hasn't come back by now it never will but I can live a normal happy life with a funny heart beat. It could have been so much worse so I am happy with the outcome.

Funny thing is, it hasn't beat strange since the last ER trip. Silly heart.

sleepy mondays

What did I do this weekend? Hmmm......

Had dinner with my parents. We gossiped.
I vacuumed, but not under the couches.
I made itty bitty cupcakes.
I sent the kids outside and listened to them shoot each other with guns that were really hockey sticks. BANG, BANG!!!
I cleaned a bathroom, but not well.
I washed sheets and made beds for visiting guests.
I ordered pizza.
I bought some new lipstick.
I went to my sisters for girls night and it was nice to get out.
I went to church, I love going to church now that there are no more babies and I love that I love to go to church again.
I went to my nephew's Priest ordination. His dad ordained him and it was awesome.
I made 15 baked potatoes and forgot to have one. I also forgot to put the bacon bits out for the rest of the people.
I made Dip. So much dip it was gross and it almost all got eaten.
I hung around with my family and talked and talked and talked.
I kissed all my nieces and nephews except Claire because she's afraid of me.
I stayed up way too late Sunday night talking to my honey and woke up Monday morning haggard.

Had a good weekend. Love good weekends.