the formula for life...and stuff

There is a formula for everything in life. As mothers, and women, I believe we are pros at figuring out real quick-like what needs to be done and how it's going to be accomplished.

When tackling homework I have a formula for getting it done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Basically, what it comes down to is deciding what can be done with the loudness of children around and what needs to be done in solitary confinement.

So, you lay it all out and stare at it. And then you put it in order of what is due first or of the utmost importance. I can do this part in my head now since I'm not as stupid as I used to be.

Ahem.

And then, once it's decided what is due tomorrow, or the next day, you decide what can be interrupted 326 times and what can't.

If it can't be interrupted then you sit and do it as fast as you can before the kids get home from school. If it can be interrupted, begrudgingly, then you save it for the after dinner crowd.

And believe me, there's a crowd.

And that, my friends, is the formula for successful homework doing.

*takes a bow*

i'm not dying, or anything...

I should be doing homework and studying since finals are only a breath away. But having been out of the house for 11 consecutive hours today I have decided that I would rather sit on my duff, have Modern Family from however many weeks ago playing in the background and blog.

And yes, I did not vlog yesterday. And this is why: I have a cold. It's not terrible. I'm not dying or anything. Not that it matters, no one is here to take care of me.

Or bury me.

Anyway, I went to school and felt terrible. I came home and promptly fell asleep. I slept hard and woke with a level of bedhead akin to 14 hours of hardcore sleep.

I opted out. Youknowwhatimean?

So today I am better. I can breath through both nostrils and I'm only a 5 (out of 10) on the stuffed up scale. Whatever, I'll live.

It has come to my attention that I have no concept of the calendar when it comes to school exams and the such. For example, the first paper I had to do for my communications class was due a whole week sooner than my brain thought it was due. That sucker came up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me.

And then there was a test in Italian I thought was on a Thursday. It was on a Thursday. The Thursday before I thought it was on.

I, then, made sure I was on top of things because I was tired of being sneaked up on like that. I have a delicate constitution, you know. And that was not a poop reference, Heather.

(Apparently snuck is not a word. Who knew?)

I was all over the date of my second paper but I still didn't write it until the weekend before it was due so then I wondered what the point is of making sure nothing sneaks up on me?

My Italian final is on December 3rd. Which in my head is two weeks away but the calendar says it's less than a week away. And although I know the calendar to be right I can not seem to wrap my head around how I keep getting it so wrong.

You may be wondering what it is I'm trying to get at and let me tell you that I wondering the same thing. I am also wondering if it might be true that I can't blog with the the tv on. It's distracting.

Here's a tip for you. If you are a woman and you are anticipating having menopause at some point in your life then you should go on a diet now and lose a thousand pounds because, I kid you not, once you have menopause you will eat and eat and eat.

You will eat all the food.

There will be no end to all the eating.

I say have menopause because that's what it feels like. I don't mean in menopause, like in a hot tub or in the money. I mean have menopause. Like I have the plague, or the flu.

Or goitre.

It's time to end this and apparently I have other things I should be doing. Like folding laundry, or so the 9 year old has ever so kindly asked of me.

Little punk, fold your own laundry. Can't you see I'm up to my eyeballs in food over here because I'm neck deep in the menopause?

Geez. Give me a break.

ruined woman

You know when you call the school to tell them that your kid won't be there and that bossy computer voice tells you to leave your child's name, their homeroom teacher and the reason for their absence? As soon as that computer starts telling me what to do I start with the whole "go on, I dare you to tell me what to do. I DARE YOU."

And then I grow up a little bit and remember it isn't my main ambition in life to make everyone hate me, as much of a doable goal that might be to attain. Today I called the school and that bossy computer started to tell me what to do and I sucked it up. I left her name and her homeroom teacher's name and then I sweetly added "Amelia is home with me today." And after I hung up I added "and it's none of your business that we bought junk food and pop and are having a total party and that I am forcing her to skip school for no good reason other than I've completely neglected her for the past week because I have been slammed with homework myself and I missed her and since she's only in grade 2 I don't see that it matters much if she misses 4 hours of school."

I will add to this here blog, to lessen the blow of my atrocious parenting, that I had to take my truck into the shop, again, and the logistics of getting her to and from school seemed much less fun than the junk food and pop type fun we are having instead.

Not so graceful segue....

I brought to my own attention that my house is a pigsty and therefore, since I am home and all with no vehicle and nothing but time, that I should clean it. So that it is what I am doing.

Okay, no I'm not. I'm blogging. Which is sort of like cleaning. No? A cleaning of the mind? Still, no? Okay, I'm not cleaning.

I will be though. I promise. I have a meeting here in a couple of hours and it would behoove me to clean.

This brings me to my next item of business. The man. The man is on a 5 nights gone and 2 nights home routine and it is ruining me.

I am becoming a ruined woman. But not in the traditional sense. As it turns out, I sleep like the dead when he's gone. Like a log. Like a log that is dead. I sleep and sleep and sleep.

And I like it.

I don't have to deal with the weird, back sleeping snorting and grunting. I don't have to deal with the 27 point turns he does in the night just to roll over. The turns that are required to turn a Mac truck around in a very tiny parking lot. I don't have to deal with the touching and poking and just general you're-in-my-space kind of issues.

And I mean that in the least dirtiest way possible.

A couple of weeks ago he punched me in the head while I was sleeping. Did I tell you that? Well, he did.

I kind of like the sleep. Youknowwhatimean?

I mean, I miss him, I really do. I really really like my husband but this "alone in the bed" thing should not be scoffed at.

Do not scoff.

I am afraid now that when he returns home for good I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.

My concerns are legit, I dare say. Too legit to quit.

Anyway, menopause sucks. Thought you should know.

Happy weekend.

not helpful

Some things are helpful. And some things are not helpful.

Youknowwhatimean?

happy weekend

Fridays are awesome. Especially the ones where I have school and the children DO NOT. I did not take that into consideration at all when I was contemplating this little endeavor. It seems to happen a lot.

Thankfully, they are old enough to watch each other. But securing their getting along-ness more often than not, and by that I mean every single time, involves threats of removal of favourite things or the destruction of their well being. These threats sound something like this...

Me: Do not fight and if you do I will take away the xbox for one hundred years!

Them: Yikes, that's a really long time.

Or, me: Do not fight or I will make you sit on the same couch and hold hands for one hundred years. 

Them: Ewwwwwwww.

Or, me: Do not fight or you will lose all good things that you had, have and ever will have for all of eternity and then some.

They rarely fight when I am gone. Being the little dears they are they save it for me when I am home and on the toilet. Or in the shower.

Little loves of my life.

So....I'm up to my eyeballs in homework. Essays and exams and class presentations. What, pray tell, is the point of the class presentation? Other than to add a foolish amount of unnecessary stress to the life of an already stressed out student.

There are moments when I am most certain I will fail all my classes, that I don't stand a chance. So I work work work until I am 87% blind from the work and then I take that last 13% and I stay up extra late reading books that have nothing to do with university. This allows me to wake up the next morning bright eyed and ready to fret the day away.

I am a master at my art.

You know who was a funny cat? Socrates. He was a funny funny guy and I would very much like to have him over for dinner. I would serve cheesecake and not hemlock. I am positive that through my powers of persuasion I could teach him that drinking Diet Pepsi by the goblet-ful is a wise and productive endeavour. Maybe he could help me persuade the man to come to the dark side.

That is....the dark side of academia.

Happy weekend.

date night

Have you ever seen the movie Date Night? That movie was hilarious. I loved it, but not the point.

This past weekend I saw the movie Argo with the man. Now...have you seen that movie??

That same night the man was invited to go see Skyfall with the boys and I heard him tell the person on the phone that he couldn't go because he was taking his wife out to see Argo.

And people wonder why I like him.

Anyway. Argo. Have you seen it? Holy crap. Never have I seen a movie where during it I thanked my lucky stars that I was medicated for anxiety because otherwise I'd be breathing into a paper bag and wishing for a quick death. I have never, ever, ever been that anxious or stressed out in a movie. Not even The Blair Witch Project stressed me out that much.

In fact, just writing this gives me heart palpitations and the running piggies. I chewed all my nails off.

The movie was amazing, if you were wondering how I felt about it. Unbelievably good. Despite the moaning lady behind me. Talk about anxious. And stressed. Good grief, lady.

I don't know why Ben Affleck gets such a bad wrap. I really like him and he's a great director. The man hates him. Which is just so sad.

So sad.

After the movie we were arguing, again, about the merits of Ben Affleck as a human being and the man said, "Name one good movie he has been in before this one."

To which I said, "Name one bad movie he's been in."

To which he said, "Daredevil."

To which I said nothing, because he had me there.

Daredevil was a really terrible movie and strangely enough, I think I own it. I have no idea what that's about.

As we were driving to our favourite little haunt known as CoDo for our favourite Pho he said he wanted to try and explain, again, his feelings towards post secondary education. To which I said, "No thank you. I have PMS and I don't want to hate you right now."

To which he said, "Take a deep breath and listen to me."

I promptly started to ignore him and instead conversed with some friends via facebook on my iPhone. He talked and talked and talked about how he thinks post secondary education is a giant money grabber (and I agree) and a huge waste of time (I do not agree, obviously). In his ideal world, that is.

But here, on earth, in reality, where things are real and people go to university and no one cares what he thinks, we do what we have to do if we want certain jobs.

Anyway, enough of that. We'll save that for another time. I should say though, that he totally supports me finishing a degree and he understands why I have to. He just thinks it's...stupid?? We ate our dinner happily and lovingly and agreed, again, to disagree, but less than we usually disagree because he worded things differently, this time, and those things were much less offensive to my premenstrual ears than they usually are. Am I still ranting?

Good heavens.

After we ate our soup and drank 3 litres of water to sooth our burning mouths he looked me dead in the eye and said, "Should we make like babies?"

To which I looked him dead in the eye right back and hesitated to make sure I heard what I thought I just heard. I said, "And...what?"

To which he smiled and said "And head out?"

And that, my friends, is how the Dabels do date night.

i inhaled, for sure

I am nothing if not a helper of the people......




You're welcome.

numb bum and the oh henry

I don't know what it is about Wednesday afternoons but I am always sleepy on Wednesday afternoons. I come home from school and fight a couch crash all afternoon long. It's torture.

Right now I am waiting for eggs to boil because I want me some egg salad. Without yokes, course.

So, last night was the election but we're not going to talk about the rage in my soul induced by said election. I will say this though, I hate politics so much I can't even find the words to express myself coherently. It just seems that election time brings out the nasty in people and I never walk away from an election without losing respect for many a soul.

Enough said because I'm PMSing and this could get ugly.

Speaking of ugly, I am having a terrible hair day and I just put on my fat pants.

Speaking of fat pants......just kidding, I will not speak of fat pants.

The man is coming home tonight for a few days. Apparently he's going to court tomorrow morning to sue the pants off a developer who paid some guy to pay the man but then that guy kept the money after the job got done and someone here is a lying skunk and I'll give you one guess and a hint as to who it is. It isn't the man nor is it the developer but alas.....what are you gonna do? Someone has to get sued.

Right?

You know who I want to sue? Halloween. I want to sue Halloween for 362 billion dollars for pain and suffering. First of all, it was cold this year. AmIright? Like really butt-fetching cold. Actually, I literally had numb bum.

My bum was numb.

It was so cold the people in the houses felt bad for the children and were putting handfuls of candy into their bags.

Secondly, candy by the handful? What is this insanity? There was so much candy. In years past I have let my children go hog wild with their candy. Eat it till it's gone, is how I mother children with candy. It's usually gone within two days. I can hold out for two days and then I don't have to worry about all the disgusting goodness tempting me from little Halloween bags in the corner.

Not this this year. Still gads of candy left. And why are Reese Peanut Butter cups so dang tasty? And those cute little brown Oh Henry's??

I love you, cute little brown Oh Henry's. I love you.

Let's review, when it's freezing outside and you have only an hour left to live because it is so freezing cold the children get three times as much candy?

Next year, warmer weather please. My bum thanks you. In more ways than one.

single woman

The man left me. He moved to Edmonton.

This is tragic, is it not?

He is contracting a huge project up there. He says he'll come back eventually. I hope he's telling me the truth. However, he did move into my brother's basement and my brother has 4 small children. If that doesn't send him home kicking and screaming, I don't know what will.

He left yesterday afternoon and I have been in a "mood' ever since. I am trying very hard to be supportive but he forgot to take four children with him so I'm having to dig deep.

Youknowwhatimean?

So, probably, for the next 2 months, or 4 months, or eternity, you'll hear me bemoan my existence on a regular basis. Allow me to apologize now to reduce the risk that all the many "I'm sorry, I'm whining again's" you're about to hear will eventually mean nothing.

I truly am very sorry.

I hate being a single woman. I do not care for it one little bit. I much prefer being married. And to someone helpful, to boot. This deep-seated unhappiness I am feeling at the man's absence can only mean one of two things. One, I have a really great marriage and I don't like to be separated from the love of my life. Or, two, I am completely co-dependent.

Let's not speculate.

Yesterday I drove to or from the dance school 6 times. In the fog. Naturally, the man had to pick a Thursday to skip town. Figures. Have I mentioned how much I hate Thursdays? And today I got up, showered and went to the ONE class I have on Fridays to find out the TA cancelled it 5 minutes before. That's not annoying at all.

So on that note I wanted to welcome you to my new-ish, and hopefully temporary, life.

Hey Edmonton, as much as I loved you in years past, you can suck it now.

Mmm hmm. Suck it.