the man pt 2.

The man is a big guy. Strong and tough-like. He can leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Really?

No, not really.

Regardless, he's big and strong and fearless and so totally not delicate in any way, shape or form.

I refer to him as my bull in my china shop.

Yes, it's my china shop and he is my bull.

This is starting to sound dirty which is not where I was going at all.

Picture it: the man in his Italian suit.



Okay, so you don't have to picture it. So picture this instead: he is teaching Sunday School to a room packed full of the 'elderly'. (I don't know why that has quotes, because they really are elderly. Most of them.) Before he begins his lesson, which is the reason the room is packed, people love him, he prepares his space. He has a tiny little podium and he sprawls his stuff out. And when I say sprawls I mean throws things around in a very loud, seemingly destructive manner. He has a look of consternation on his face.

"What is he so upset about?" people wonder within their minds. I know they are wondering within their minds because for the first two years of our marriage I wondered within mine.

"What is the matter?" I would ask.

"What do you mean?" he would respond.

"Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"The one that looks like you might be plotting my murder and body disposal."

"Oh, I'm just thinking."

"About my murder and body disposal??"

"Um, no, honey. I was thinking about whether I want Vietnamese or Chinese for dinner tonight."

Dinner choices invoking such looks was something I would always remember from that day forth.

Good to know.

So, as the years passed, when I would see him sitting quietly with 'the look' upon his handsome face, I would ask what he's thinking about and without fail it was never about my murder and body disposal. For you, this may be good to know.

He likes me, he really does.

It is also something I had to teach my family and our children.

"Oh that's just his thinking face." I would explain.

He's heavy footed and if you didn't know any better you'd think he was coming after you in a fury that could only equal total destruction and ultimate loss of life. A rampage that would most certainly end with a murder and subsequent body disposal. One always knows when the man is around. He's loud.

He thrashes around in bed like he's possessed. When he turns in the night it's like someone has picked him up, flipped him over, and thrown him back into bed with such a force that anyone underneath him would be destroyed instantly. We bought one of those fancy 'bowling ball not knocking over the wine glass' mattresses in the hopes of me not being interrupted in my already fragile slumber by his 'tossing'. Nothing could sleep through a grown man flailing about as if wrestling dragons with his bare hands.

It truly is only a small miracle he doesn't move much in his sleep. Nor does he snore which endears this brute fellow to me.

(When we are apart and I sleep alone I sleep like a dream. He does not sleep well at all. I'll bet it's because no one is there to disrupt. Or terrorize.)

In the mornings when he is ready to get up he lifts the blankets off himself and hurls them at me. He raises them up high, and then throws them down with all the early morning strength he can muster. Right on top of me. When I confronted him about it he said he wasn't hurling them at me but merely removing them from his body.

If by removing he means hurling then yes, I agree.

"How about you just gently roll out of bed leaving the blankets where they are?" I suggest in the nicest tone possible.

"You're up anyway."

"Yes, you're right. I am up. I just had a duvet hucked at my head."

This morning, the man gently rolled out of bed leaving the blankets alone.

Will wonders ever cease?

one little, two little, three little y'alls

Here's a little somethin' to keep y'all busy while I finish growin' out my hair

Texas Forever.

Y'all.

super w8 a sec

Dear movie makers/movie raters/movie theatres,

I took my kids to Super 8. The movie. You know the one. The one with Coach Eric Taylor in it. Well, he didn't go by Eric Taylor in this particular movie, duh, but that does not negate the fact that he was, indeed, Coach Eric Taylor.

It's a good thing Coach is so likable because I fear his acting range may be a tad limited. So if you ever use him again make sure it's for something very Eric-y Taylor-y-like.

I do like him. A lot. He's real dreamy-like.

Anywho. It has become glaringly obvious that my movie filter is broken.

B.R.O.K.E.N, I say. And I do say because I haven't rented a movie in months that was any good. It's mostly because I am broke and get my DVD's from the library, where they are free-like. So instead of being number 578 in line to get the new, good stuff, I get the old stuff that is there for the simple fact that no one wants to watch them. Regardless, my theory is that they can't all be crap but I have proven my theory to be wrong over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, I persevere.

Even when Colin Firth, aka Mr.Darcy, is in them, they still seem to be crap. So bad, in fact, that the man won't watch them with me. I have to sit alone in the dark watching bad movies wondering if there is any hope for myself.

Yes, I know, this is not your fault at all. It lends to the argument, however, that I have a broken movie picking filter and this is where you come in.

See, I checked the website before I went to Super 8 because I do have a 5 year old and her innocence should be protected. Or at least feigned protection should be had. I did my due diligence and checked. PG. My kids have seen tons of PG stuff so I threw caution to the wind and took them, as well as my sweet little niece who swears her mom won't care if she saw it but......

Sorry Lisa. Again, movie makers/movie raters/movie theatres, not your fault.

I was originally concerned that my little one would be scared but I figured if she was I would distract her with my iphone. After all, that is what it's for. No?

So I was scared about the scariness making my 5 year old all scared-like but now I am scared that she's going to tell her grade one teacher to eff off.

And now the blaming comes in. And I blame you.

Since when does PG include the eff word? I checked my phone app. Don't you just love phone apps? My app said it was PG-13. Ahhhhh, yes. The 13 means the movie can have an eff word. And why shouldn't it? 13 year olds say the eff word all the time and if they don't then us mothers think it sure would be swell if they heard at least one in every movie they see.

Oh, you agree? Great.

Here's a question, a side note of sorts. Why is it so much funnier when tweeners say s*** in the movies than when grown ups do it? Man, every time the pudgy kid who hasn't "leaned out" yet said s*** I laughed my hiney off.

Not the point. Not the point indeed.

Super 8 was like Goonies meets E.T. meets a very mild version of Aliens. What's not to like?

Well I liked it, but this is also not the point.

J.J. Abrams is awesome but again, not the point.

Here is the point. Finally? I know, right? Why is there a discrepancy on the rating? Why does my phone say PG-13 but the website and the movie theatre say PG? Who gets to make that call?

Maybe I should be making the calls.

Well thank-you for asking. I would make the calls but I can't. My filter is broken, remember? I am simply incapable of judging whether a movie is appropriate and/or entertaining. So I look to you to do that for me.

You have failed.....again. Colossal fail. The five year old has been up every night since the movie was seen with bad dreams. For this I blame me. And so does the man, since he's the one who has been getting up with her.

For my 11 year old, Jack, thinking he hit the jackpot by seeing a movie with the eff word in it and therefore thinking he may be able to see Snatch next, I blame you.

I have to blame you because what kind of mother would I be if I took full responsibility for my children's total corruption?

That would silly, and heaven knows, I am not silly.

So, I'm sure I will continue to show my children inappropriate movies because I am broken and have yet, after all this time, figured it out, thereby contributing to society's dysfunction. And I am sure you will do your part to aid me in this endeavor.

As for Jack and his movie line up which includes Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, The Hangover and Goodfellas? Sorry kid.........it's back to Mary Poppins and Little House on the Prairie on box set for you!

Sincerely,

Catherine
Mother of 4
Corruptor of all





(Don't forget to leave a thought provoking retort. You have to look down a bit to find the place to do it)
**********************************

why can't we all just get along?

As I sit here I can here the 5 year old is crying. Crying irritates me. Unless it's legit, which this isn't. And I know this because this isn't my first rodeo. I've heard lots of crying before and I know legit crying when I hear it.

The boys have been sidetracked with some Wii. The oldest is primping in her bedroom.

My computer chair has a new weird tilt and sinks slowly as I write. Also irritating.

It's Saturday and the man is working, again. I am alone with the children, again.

Some crazy person has shot up a bunch of kids in Norway for no good reason. Would there, could there, ever be a good enough reason to shoot up a bunch of innocent children? If there is I do not want to know it.

Ever.

My heart is heavy for the parents and families of these lost ones. I have cried a lot these last two days.

Why is everything so sad all the time? Why can't we all just get along?

It is so strange to me that in every realm of life there is contention and chaos. It ranges from families all the way to terrorists trying to kill as many people as they can.

Contention and chaos. From loved ones to strangers.

I try to teach my kids to just get along. It is actually easier to enjoy each other than to be upset with one another. Am I wrong?

Yet, there continues to be a daily struggle.

But there is also love. Maybe that's the difference.

Maybe not, I just don't know. Between the earthquakes that decimate entire islands, droughts that wipe out millions, egotistical power hungry men who think they can steal your private thoughts from your phone and get away with it, mothers who may or may not have killed their own child and crazy gunmen that shoot children for two straight hours my head spins at a fairly consistent rate.

And then there's me and my bubble. For instance, I sit here and wonder if this is a weed or a tree/plant.



It is growing outside my front window. At first, I thought it was a weed. It was short and weed-like. I went to pull it but the base of it was thick and tree-like. I decided to let it be for a bit. I got home from holidays and the thing is 4 feet tall and has huge tree-like leaves. There are no flowers on it. It's like a beanstalk or something, minus the beans. By the end of summer it will be as tall as my house. Weed or not, it's pretty ugly so I think it has to go.

To pull or not to pull, that is the question I ask as I sit here in my safe house with my scrappy kids who are now playing lego nicely together, I might add, while mothers and fathers plan funerals for their dead.

Am I ungrateful? Sometimes I feel ungrateful. Maybe just clueless. Maybe I'm taking advantage of the fact that devastation hasn't rocked my own personal world yet. Maybe my time will come. Maybe it won't. Maybe I simply don't understand. This must be true because does anyone really understand what is happening to the people around them?

Maybe I don't care.

That can't be it because why would I cry some much if I didn't care? Especially when I feel so numb all the time due to my own problems eating away at me. The same problems that seem to silly compared to so many others.

I think I do care. But so what? What good does that do anyone? To care after the fact.

Maybe I'm selfish, unaffected, narcissistic, disingenuous.

Whatever I am, one thing never changes, I just want everyone to get along.

Please.

Is that really too much to ask? Is it too simplistic? Is it impossible?

Do all of these awful things happen so that the those unaffected by that immediate misfortune can be thankful for what they have? If so, why can't we be thankful enough without the misfortunes of others? Or is being thankful a mere side note to the devastation that would have happened anyway?

Whatever the reason, and I may never know, today I am thankful.

Is there any amount of thankfulness I could feel that might equal the level of sadness others are feeling today? Is there any way to know?

Today there are people in Norway whose anguish I may never know. Because of this, today I am more thankful for my children and my husband than I have been in a long time.

Like a reminder of what I already knew but may have forgotten for a moment.

The 5 year old is not crying anymore. The boys are together and peaceful. The oldest looks beautiful due to her primping. I am practically sitting on the floor because my chair has lost it's will to live and refuses to stand tall. I will go pull the weed/tree/plant thing now. All the while, I will remember that this isn't my time to feel direct loss and sorrow. My time will come, I'm sure, but it isn't today. Today that is reserved for others. Today is my time to feel thankful and grateful.

So I do.

beach holidays aren't what they used to be

I'm home.

Ahhhh. It's about time.

So I went to Vernon to see mummy and daddy. It's a great way to get away because it's always hot and sunny in the okanagan. I stay with the folks therefore accommodation is cheap.

And by cheap I mean free.

We go to the beach all day everyday and therefore it's a super fun, super sunny, super cheap holiday.

Unless it rains everyday.

Which it mostly did. Which mostly sucked. Because I'm mostly broke.

10 days. 4 beach attempts. 2 successes. These stats are not pretty.





That's it for beach pics. Pretty awesome, I know.

So.....what would you like to talk about instead? Bed head?



No?? How about the 37 minutes we spent at Davisson's Orchard which, by the way, turned out to be the nicest day we had but the forecast said it was going to rain so we didn't even attempt the beach. The kids even talked to some Shaw newsies. Except for the teenager because she's all cool-like and stuff.




No?? How about blowing bubbles in the backyard?



Still no?? All right then, we'll chat about my brother and his wife doing Turbo Jam whilst I sat on the couch taking pictures and motivating them to push harder, lift higher, dance funkier, smile bigger, sweat rougher (sweat rougher?? what does that even mean?), punch stiffer. Work it!! I was very helpful.

Very motivational-like.

I don't think Derek reads my blog, or Valene for that matter, so I should be free and clear with this next photo. Don't anyone tell them I did this!

Hey...... I'm a writer. I have obligations to entertain which I take very seriously.



Yes, go ahead. Take a minute to talk about this one for a bit. I'll wait here.

All righty then, carrying on. Valene did make this super fun dessert to enjoy after jamming of the turbo was done.



Mmmmm, Skor dessert out of a bucket. She's so crafty.

Or....we could talk about the signs of the times. Instead of going to the beach we just sat around watching the world come to an end. That's always chit chat worthy. No??




So. In other words. We did not have the beach holiday I was hoping for but instead, I read lots and relaxed lots and ate lots of sugar which today I am starting to detox from. Again.

So there it is. A photo essay for your perusal and less than exhilarating entertainment.

However, I feel a burden to share something with you. A warning of sorts.

For those of you planning a trip to the Okanagan, you should know, it's broken.

If you do go, then you can follow the rainbow home........




....like we did.










************************************

fare thee well, my sweets

Well my sweeties, I'm off. I'm heading out for some fun in the sun sans the man. So really, how much fun could it be?

I'm going to mummy's house to lounge at the beach and work on my tan. I'm not sure I'll blog since my mum's computer hates me and I avoid it at all costs.

I'll see you in a couple of weeks, or sooner if her computer and I choose to be friendly.

Here's a little something to remember me by. The greatest song known to all mankind.

this post may or may not be PMS related

So I was blog reading today and came across a really funny post about flipping off the things that make you mental.

Since I'm mental and all I thought I felt the need to flip off some of my own stuff as there seems to be so much of it.

WARNING: This post may not be for everyone so if you feel as though you might be in an offended kind of mood or a really happy mood you don't want pooped upon due do the mass flipping off going on around here then you should probably go elsewhere. Also, only click on the button above if you have the constitution to handle reading some potty words.

Here goes:

Flip you the first: I live in a house with no screens in doors or windows. Of course I do. This house is cursed. No screens means bugs of every sort flying about my personal space and making me all bugged-like. Flip you bugs.

Flip you the second: I live in a house with no screens in the doors or windows. Of course I do. I also live in a community with gigantic poplar trees that are so graciously sharing ever last bit of pollen they can muster. Any pollen that might not be stuck to peoples lawns........



is blowing around my house. Of course it is. Flip you pollen and all your refusing to settle so as to be vacuumed blowy-ness.

Flip you the third: I live in a house with no screens in windows or doors. Of course I do. I also live in a great house that won't sell. Seriously Willacy, I could not flip you off enough for this. Flip you one thousand times for making my life so deeply stressful and unhappy over the last 18 months. Flip you.

Flip you the fourth: Flip me for buying Willacy in the first place. Flip you, me!

Flip you the fifth: Teenagers who cuss at the beach where my sweet little children are trying to play. Flip you for being so self absorbed and inconsiderate to those around you. Flip you foul mouthed teens who think they are all that.

Flip you the sixth: Sunburns. I have a sunburn and it really really hurts. Flip you sunburn.

That's probably enough flipping off today, although I could go on. I'm in that kind of mood.

Strangely, I do feel better. Maybe tomorrow I'll do a post about the things I do NOT want to flip off. Like Costco ice cream cones.

oh mika......

So this song pretty much just rocks my world right now...............

Swoon.



_______________________________________________________________________________________

sand in my toes...and other unmentionable places

So it turns out that these two littlest kids of mine don't actually get along all that well. I didn't know this until Monday. The man claims he could have told me that this was the case but seriously, how does he know? He sees them 30 minutes a day.

Whatever. Man. You think you know so much.

I had no idea, which can only mean one of two things:

1. I live in a world of denial, or

2. I need to pay more attention.

Neither of these is all that flattering to me as a mother so we won't dwell here.

Yesterday I told them that we would go to the zoo. Yipee, the zoo! I decided to call before to make sure our passes were still good because with the kind of luck I am prone to I would have gotten there and found out they expired and been forced to either pay $100 to renew them or turn around and leave. Option one would have left me ticked right off since I don't actually plan on going to zoo very much and option two would have had me leaving with two very irate children.

I called, the passes had expired, no zoo. So the kids were irate at home instead of the parking lot of the zoo which, in my opinion, is way better.

They were down right angry, and rightfully so, until I went online and googled FREE fun things to do in Calgary.

Hey kids, guess what? There's a beach 10 minutes from our house. Interested?







Perfectly blue, cloudless skies. Hot sun. It was beautiful. Like a holiday.

I won't mention the two kids who went missing within 40 minutes of me setting up camp. The second child created such a ruckus and upheaval. They dragged the lake for ten minutes before he was found playing in some trees. I was ill. The mother next to me was in tears, packing up her kids to get them out of there before they pulled a dead body off the bottom of the lake. I stood, trying to decide if we should leave before disaster or after. I mean, what are the odds that a kid would drown at a lake I am at? I'm sure they're pretty slim, right? Plus, I had just made myself comfortable.

Was that insensitive? I apologize.

When they found him I almost marched over to give him a piece of my mind.

"I don't care if you are only 7. My nerves are shot due to the stress in my life and I can't handle dead little boys at the bottom of lakes when I am just trying to relax and enjoy the sunshine! You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves!" (The last two sentences were taken directly from my favourite Jane Austen book Pride and Prejudice. Since I could not have said it better than Mrs. Bennet I pass the mantle to her.)

Anyway, I said I wouldn't mention it so I won't.

The moral of this particular story is that I live ten minutes from a great little beach and lake and that I should remember to put sunscreen on ME today, since we are going back, as well as the children.

Ouch.

because i did, that's why

Sometimes people ask me why I had four kids. This is what I tell them:

"I don't know. I just did."

I had one, knowing that there would be at least two. I didn't know it would be 5 days before the first turned 2, though.

Remember in CALM class when they tell you that birth control pills can be ineffective if you are on antibiotics? They aren't lying. AND, it's good to remember that before you start the antibiotics.

Not three weeks later.

Anyway, number two was hard. He didn't sleep. Ever. For at least a year. It was a hard year that included two moves. I don't have fond memories of that year. Actually, due to sleep deprivation, I don't have any memories of that year except a couple. And those usually involve the holding of a sleeping baby and a deep seated longing for an ice cold Diet Coke.

See, those were the days when I drank Diet Coke. I was young, I didn't know any better. I blame my mother.

Okay, two kids. Lot's of people stop here. So let's say that I stop here as well. Fast forward 11 years.

This morning kid 1 left for 5 day camp and kid 2 left for a 6 day camp.

What am I doing? Hypothetically, of course. Oh man....... it's going to be crazy. Movies, books, pop, food and a clean house that will stay clean.

What actually happened?

Rewind 8 years. Kid 3 comes. By choice and because I wanted enough kids that if one died there would be others to keep me busy and each other preoccupied.

Yes, I am morbid like that. This is how my mind works. My mind also goes to places that involve lots of grandkids and big family gatherings. It isn't always about death. Mostly, but not always.

Moving on! When kid 3 was 3 months old I looked at him, for he was so precious and fat and delicious, and knew that I wanted another. He was the poster child for lots and lots and lots of babies.

There was no question. I knew.

Then I had a surprise fourth pregnancy that ended very badly. It also almost ended my life.

Remember when they tell you that if you switch birth control pills that you should use back up for a month? Well, they aren't lying. AND, it's good to remember to use the back up before you get pregnant. Not after, when you are lying almost dead in the hospital wondering how you even got pregnant in the first place.

Oh yeah, right. I switched pills.

But as I was laid up in the hospital thanking the heavens that I hadn't left my three kids motherless, and little Holden being only 9 months old, I wondered if maybe three was my number. Being pregnant was hard for me. I had a wonky heart and c-sections. Maybe I shouldn't be pressing my luck.

I started living my life like I was done. There's nothing wrong with three. And then I felt awesome. I was done and didn't even know it. But now I knew and I could get on with it.

Six months later and my uterus was telling me otherwise. I wasn't done.

Oh bother.

Five months later I got pregnant. But because of the last pregnancy I was monitored closely with daily blood tests. My doctor called one day to ask if I had started bleeding yet. When I said no, she said to expect it soon because the blood tests were indicating that I would miscarry. I waited a week for it. Not many people have the privilege of knowingly waiting for a miscarriage. I actually felt like it was a privilege, I was prepared and for that I was grateful.

I'm not patient, but you knew that. You've seen how easy the first three came. We had a running joke that when the man sneezes I get pregnant. So with the ending of pregnancy number 5 I thought maybe my child bearing was done.

I tried to be done in my mind....again. It didn't work.

11 months of trying, which included the miscarriage, I was pretty much convinced that three was my number and that God was giving me an obvious sign that I was pushing my luck. I didn't want to push it. I didn't want to seem greedy or ungrateful. Three healthy kids is a gift.

I told God I would try one more month and then I would concede and be done.

Nine months later sweet little Amelia Eleanor made her not so graceful 9 pound 13 ounce entrance into the world.

The moment she was conceived, and I say moment but it's just a term, it wasn't the actual moment, I knew that there would never ever be another pregnancy. Regardless of what happened with that pregnancy, I was done.

No more babies for you! Again with the Seinfeld analogy.

So I could have stopped after two and today, and the for the next 5 days, I would be foot loose and fancy free. But I didn't and instead I have to spend the week alone with two of the sweetest, kindest, funniest, most loving little souls ever known to this world.

And that's not such a bad gig, if I do say so myself.

thoughts on a friday which actually feels more like a saturday

What's goin' on. Point form.

- it's Canada Day. So.... Happy Canada Day! We went to the tamest, mildest, quietest pancake breakfast ever known to man this morning because my ward is......... how should I say......"seasoned". It was pretty decent actually, if you are 70 or older. Kidding. It was good.

- I finished reading the Book of Mormon, which if you remember was my goal for June. It was about 37 times harder than I thought it would be. Well worth the effort though. However, it did require 3 hours of reading on the very last day to get it done. No biggie.

- I did not read a single other thing this month. I miss reading books.

- I was up at 6:25 this morning, thanks to the man's alarm going off. So, I read a novel while he slept until 8. He's awesome, right?

- we have had 8 showings since Sunday. I'm just not sure what to think anymore. I could not be more disheartened if I tried.

- if people don't take a feature sheet it means they didn't like the house, right? Thought so.......

- I have two kids going to camp on Monday. They both have a 'to pack' list that has gone beyond fathomable and entered into the utterly ridiculous category. For whatever reason, thinking about getting them ready to go causes me some serious anxiety and I just don't want to do it. What I really want is for everyone to leave me alone.

- I am going to the beach in a week and I don't have a swimsuit. I won't even mention the level of anxiety this causes. Maybe this will be my goal for July. Find a swimsuit that doesn't make me look nearly as big as I am. Sounds fairly achievable. Or not.

- the man works non-stop. I'm sick of it. Really really sick of it. I feel like a single mother with a boyfriend who spends the night. Which makes me feel sinful and dirty. Okay, not really.

- I'm contemplating taking the kids to the fireworks tonight but I haven't told them in case I change my mind. If I do go it will be alone, most likely, since the man will want to work tomorrow and he'll need to go to bed.

- we ate dinner at 7:40 last night because that's when I got around to making it. It was a caesar salad. No word of a lie. A Caesar salad.

- as I go back and read this I see that, clearly, I am not in a very good mood. I should quit now.

- before I go I want to mention that I watched two episodes of House Hunters International just now. Because I'm tired from getting up at 6:25. Oh, I already mentioned that. Anyway, I can't decide if I want to live in Italy or France........

- Italy or France?