3 am

The man is home....


......and so is his laundry.


Joy.

parent teacher interviews

This week was parent teacher interviews. I understand the theory behind them, I really do but............

Aren't they mostly just a waste of time?

I always go to Meet the Teacher night because I actually do care, contrary to what may come out of my mouth the day of these most valuable evenings. I go and say hi and in the allotted time I have been given, which is not one second more than 15 minutes, I try really hard to get a feel for the person that will be teaching my child for the next ten months. In all my years of having kids in school only once I have I walked out of a Meet the Teacher night and known, without a doubt, that my child had the wrong teacher.

I didn't do anything about that because I prefer to hide my indifference and then, when the moment is right, pounce and unleash on any teacher who may want to make an attempt at changing my child in any way. I lay, in wait, like a mama bear waiting for the provocation.

I dare you to try and tell me about my kid, whom I birthed, and not so gently either. I dare you to tell me he doesn't like to sit still. I dare you to tell me he doesn't care for math and that he prefers graphic novels to boring old regular novels with words. I dare you to tell me he would prefer the playground to mat time. I dare you to tell me he gets attitude when confronted. I dare you to tell me something I don't already know. I dare you.

After I had a teacher tell me what I could do at home to 'fix' my child I decided that I wouldn't be doing parent teacher interviews anymore unless there was actual need. I would base that need upon report cards and my child's general attitude toward school. (It is here that you may judge me for my apathy towards my child's education. Go on, I can take it.)

So this year, I met teachers. All but one but that was because they didn't have a Meet the Teacher night. So I tried to schedule an interview after his impeccable report card came home. The only time they would give me was the EXACT time I had to be half an hour away picking up another child from a field trip.

So, really, how important is this interview, which again, was given 15 minutes of time?

I asked the child involved what he thought. He said "do you wanna see the teacher?" I responded with "do YOU want me to see the teacher?" To which he replied "I couldn't care less."

All right then, enough said.

I know a few teachers. I have two siblings who are teachers. I have never heard a teacher speak enthusiastically about p/t interviews. In fact, one actually said to me "Trust me, I'd rather be somewhere else."

Apparently, they like it just as much as I do.

I wonder if my attitude has anything to do with how many parent teacher interviews my parents attended........

blue

I'm blue. I'm not sure it could be classified as depression but I'm most certainly blue. No motivation, no happy smiles, no patience.

Every year I dread the first snow fall. It keeps me up at night. I get a stomach ache during the contemplation of it. This year it seemed worse but I'm sure there is an explanation for that. Like, being alone. The man is still gone so if the truck breaks down, I'm on my own. If I crash it, I'm on my own. If I get stranded, I'm on my own. I don't like being on my own and I don't like the first snow fall.

I don't mind the cold so much. I have warm mitts and a warm coat. I don't spend endless amounts of time outside, it's doable.

I hate the roads. It's so dangerous on the roads and everyone seems to be on them at the same time.

"Where are you all going?!?!" I have been yelling this at my windshield a lot.

Is there such a thing as situational depression? Because I think that's what I have. I don't like my situation. I feel trapped.

I love this house, no question. It's so nice and cozy and done so beautifully. The designer is a rock star.

What I don't like is:
- location. I am all alone out here.
- financial situation. We want to sell the house but now is a bad time. A really bad time. So we wait. I don't 'wait' well.
- job situation. The man has to work out of town right now which creates all kinds of issues. Like should we move out of the city? Should he change jobs?
- house hunt. Where should we move to after this? Because it is the final move for a VERY long time I have to give it more than my usual 5 minutes of thought.

I usually go house hunting and find what "will do" and buy it. It takes exactly 5 minutes of my time. It is how I have bought every house we have ever lived in.

Now, it needs to be something I love somewhere I love or I'll get restless and anxious and start contemplating another move. But where? So many things to consider. Job, schools, family, weather........

Self induced misery. That is what this is. I did this all to myself (with the help of the man who actually instigated it but I was on board so it's my fault too)

The silver lining. There is one, there always is and I can see it, don't worry.

One, we will sell this house and fulfill its destiny and make our final move. Where? Don't even get me started, the options seem endless.

Two, the man comes home this week. Only to turn around and go back, probably, if he can't find a job here. But we're not thinking about that.

Three, the snowman. There is little old man who rides a riding snow removal thingie around the block over and over and over again when it's snowing. I love him. We call him "the snowman". He is an angel in the disguise of an old man who is in love with his toys and spreads that love around the block so that lonely sad people like me don't have to shovel their walk when the snow starts to fall........

.......... and then never stops.

christmas comes early

I don't want to brag but my kids are so well trained it's quite remarkable. They will grow up to make fantastic spouses and as of right now I am so pleased with the job I've done.

Today I walked into the main bathroom in our house and found this.




A fresh, still in the package roll of toilet paper waiting for me to unwrap it and insert it onto the toilet paper holder.

It was like Christmas.

Someone went out of their way to get up from the toilet after using the last little bit, dig underneath the sink for another roll and then leave it, perched, ever so gently, on top of the holder for the next unlucky sap who came in.

How did they know it would be me?

Wow.... the courtesy.

I'm so proud.

And yes, I did have to yell for someone to bring me my phone so I could capture this special moment. I couldn't go get it myself because I was busy unwrapping my present....... if you know what I mean.

weeeeee bit o' fun

Seriously cute kids having some serious fun.

"Weeeeeeeeeee"............ is all that could be heard as they flew down the hill.

knock your socks off

My boys love to play this game. They beg for it. It's ridiculous.









Have you ever seen two boys play 'knock your socks off'?

It's something to behold. The object of the game is to not have your socks removed by the other guy and you have to stay on the blanket. That's it. Those are the rules.

You can just imagine how it ends.......every time!

who's a whingin' willy?

All right. That's it. I'm done. I'm fed up. I want my husband back.

Simple as that. It's all about me and I want him back.

You know what the problem is with being so selfish? When you want something and you can't have it you then you tend to turn into a small child.

I want my husband back. (Insert whiny voice)

I'm not being nasty about it though. I think I am handling it very well.....most of the time. Sometimes, sadly, I'm sort of like a toddler. I stomp my feet and fuss and say things in a really whiny voice. Things like "I want Darcy to come hooooooome!" Or "I miss your daaaaadddddyyyyy!"

In turn, the kids say similar things back to me and I think, although I'm not 100% sure, that my whining just perpetuates the problem.

We miss the man. It's been 2 weeks. Tooooooo loooong. (Insert whiny voice here, again)

And now there is a crap load of snow on the ground making things harder for him. He's almost at the roof and I hate it when he frames the roof in cold, snowy, slippy, slidy weather. I especially hate it because I know he is working as fast as he can so he can come home. I will have to institute some rules that I will inform him of immediately.

Rules:
1. No falling off the roof.
2. No hanging off trusses because you slipped off the roof.
3. No frostbite
4. No falling through stairwell holes.
5. If you do fall you can't land anywhere hard.
6. No swearing. Wait. Sorry. I have already been informed that this isn't a rule and never will be.
7. Text the woman as soon as you set foot on the ground so as to assure her of your well being.

Poor man. I'm pretty sure he isn't stomping his feet and whining like I am. I'm pretty sure he is too tired to even think much about us as he told me he worked 70 hours last week.

One more week. Maybe one and a half. Maybe two. These are the uncertain joys of being married to a framer.

"How long do you think you have left, hon?"

"Um, I dunno. A week. Maybe a week and a half. Maybe two......"

the man moves out

Last night I had a dream.

In it I was in a wide open city in a valley surrounded by mountains all the way around. I was trying to find my family by calling from my iPhone. I couldn't get the phone to work. There were many men sitting at a table talking to each other and staring at me. Every time I tried to use my phone I was in the room with them. The room had no ceiling and expansive views of the mountains.

I was so frustrated. I kept having little tantrums where I would yell at the phone. And then yell at the men, "Why doesn't my phone work?"

Then there was an avalanche. It was huge and we thought it was going to hit us. I thought I was going to die. I was terrified but then it passed right beside us and buried a city I knew my mom was in. So I tried to call her. My phone didn't work.

"WHY DOESN'T MY PHONE WORK??" I was shrieking. I thought I was going mad.

Then, one of the men stood up and said "You know why your husband won't answer the phone right? Because you act like this. No one likes you. No one wants to deal with you. You're like a 2 year old. This is why he won't answer the phone."

I was dumbfounded. I tried to tell him that my husband would answer the phone. That it wasn't an issue of people not wanting to deal with me. My phone wasn't working. That's all it was. My phone wasn't working. I tried to tell them but my words wouldn't come out.

All the men just looked at me with their eyebrows raised and their shoulders shrugged. My feelings were so hurt. I was so sad. So frustrated.

Strange dream, huh?

Soooo.......What's going on around here? Not much of anything fun. I ordered glass for the en suite and a few other places in the house. I have had three front entry door quotes and because I refuse to spend $4000 on a new front door the old front door still looks like crap. I have had three garage door quotes and it turns out that getting a new door for a vaulted garage is only about 342 times harder than you'd think. I installed 29 pot light trims. There are 30 but one is a real nuisance. So I thought I'd let the man do it. Why should I have all the fun?

Oh, wait. But the man moved out.

He packed a suitcase and moved out. He went to live in Fort MacMurray in a two bedroom apartment with a chain smoker.

I wonder if my dream has anything to do with this........

One guy came over to quote the garage door, Tony. I showed Tony the door the man already bought but hadn't installed. Tony said he didn't think it would work because there are low headroom issues. He said he'd quote something out for me involving a different new garage door.

A couple of days later he called to tell me he had done some research and thought that we'd be able to use the door already purchased if I got some low headroom rails. If I wanted to, I could return the rails I already had. OR......he'd do it for me, if that would be easier.

It is here that I played the useless female card. I told him I had no idea what I was doing and would really appreciate the help. "No, problem", he said. "I'll take care of it", he said.

Today he called to say he searched the city and found some rails. He thought he was going to have to special order them but upon further searching he found some. He'd be happy to come install my garage door for me.

I wonder if my dream has anything to do with this. Maybe there is some guilt for playing dumb. I could have found those rails myself but I knew he'd be better and faster at it. This knowledge doesn't negate that fact that I played dumb. Sometimes I am dumb but dumb doesn't know it's dumb when it's legitimately dumb. When dumb knows it's dumb? Then dumb isn't dumb, it's just playing dumb. I was playing dumb. Or maybe I was delegating......

Say dumb ten times fast.

Tomorrow I am going on a road trip with the children to visit my mom and dad. I wonder if my dream has anything to do with that.

I have PMS and sometimes I want to throw a tantrum and yell at people, just like a two year old. I wonder if my dream has anything to do with this.

On Monday it will be two weeks since the man moved out. It will be the longest we have ever gone without seeing each other in the 16 years of our knowledge of each other's existence. It's a long time. But he is coming home so you can stop having a heart attack now. When? I don't know. Three weeks, maybe four.......It bugs him when I use the term 'move out'. But he packed a suitcase and lives in an apartment. What else should I call it?

He's working. Out of town. And it stinks. The bad economy has finally trickled down and hit the trades. Or at least my trade.

Fingers crossed he finds work here. That he doesn't hurt himself there. And that he doesn't fall in love with his chain smoking roommate and never come home.

the spirit of halloween

I think I killed the Spirit of Halloween.

I didn't mean too. Not really anyway. Celebrating Halloween for me is like getting a colonoscopy, it's probably a good idea to do it but is it really necessary? I know I should, but I don't want to. I don't want to so much that my disdain for the idea oozes out all over the place.

I think the children inadvertently stepped in it. Their enthusiasm for the holiday was lackluster, at best.

Cicely wanted nothing to do with it this year, she's thirteen so it seemed almost appropriate. Jack told me not to bother getting him a costume, he's only 11 so it created guilt for me. Holden just wanted the candy. He refused to wear his Darth Vader costume to school and when I offered to pick him up early that day and miss his party altogether he jumped at the chance.

I forced him to put on his costume so I could take a picture.



Amelia was Belle. Oh, yes she was.



I used to really like Halloween. I would decorate and we'd carve pumpkins but then it became such a chore. When did that happen?

Remember last year when everyone was so paranoid about getting H1N1? Remember how ridiculous that was? Instead of choosing vaccination I chose to be vigilant about my children's general health and when Holden woke Halloween day with a small fever I cancelled Halloween.

Instead, I went to the store and spent $30 on candy and a new DVD. I ordered pizza and let the healthy children do what they wanted to do, stuff their faces full of candy, minus the door to door perpetuation of swine flu. All that candy handling by potentially sick strangers? Yuck! No thanks.

They ate candy. That's all they wanted anyway. And they loved it. We stayed up late and let the Trick or Treaters grab candy from a bowl left on the front step. I proposed it be a new Dabels tradition. What I got to that suggestion was a mutual "No way!"

So this year, come back year, Halloween fell on a Sunday. Which means no Trick or Treating in the traditional sense but instead the ever so fun Trunk or Treat the night before. This is what turned Jack off. Whatever. I'm all for it. In less than 20 minutes Holden and Amelia had a bag full of candy and because the Spirit of Halloween is dead they opted to forgo the family dance to go home and binge on sugar.

Fine by me.

So.... Jack says next year Halloween is on Monday and therefore he will be dressing up.

Holden will forever do what he has to to obtain a bag full of sugar.

Amelia wants to be Belle every year until she is "all growed up".

And me? I made some promises (with my fingers crossed). I promised to be more fun next year. I promised to decorate. I promised (with both sets of fingers crossed) to get a costume of my own. And in one year's time, we'll see who is still reading this blog and if they dare hold me to this fair weathered commitment.

I dare you to try.

And yes, sadly, those two pictures above are the only two pictures I took the whole night, or day, or week .........

I am just that into it.