Move it along....

Nothing to see here, nothing at all.

THIS is where the action is. Ok, maybe not action, per se, but it's actually updated. On occasion.

Get out of here!

Go here. I have a new hangout!

Moving Day.

In a fit of pique I don't know what the hell came over me, I have moved my blog. The whole damn thing. That brief mention of Wordpress? I've been mulling it over ever since, and have taken the plunge.

Introducing: Kitten Whore

Jam Whore, if you're reading, it's 100% YOUR fault I've named the new blog thusly. I have never in my life had a more appropriate nickname.

Crispy dog.

D's home after his first week in the new job, and in true D style, he invited the neighbours over for a hangin' balls night, bbq included. We played until I managed to lose a set of balls - looks like I'll have to start cutting the brush in that part of the yard - and then we got the open-fire cooking going. The usual neighbours came over, and then we invited the ones on the other side, mostly because Neighbour Dave* was nice enough to lend us his sledgehammer for proper hangin' ball rack placement.

In addition to the people, there were extra dogs that tagged along: Elmo (cocker spaniel with a serious case of Little Dog Syndrome), George (big goofy mutt), Jag (young black lab), and Babe (older female shepherd). Thrown in our two, and it was quite the doggy daycare.

There were some minor skirmishes amongst the dogs, all of which had the following theme: George & Jag play fight, Elmo attacks because he feels George is being picked upon, and Wiley (ours) decides to jump in because Hey! everyone else is doing it!

Stupid dogs. The bad ones were all male, and all neutered. Didn't matter. Babe was mostly ok, and Goldie (also ours) hid in the house because of all the Scary People Who Don't Live Here. Yeah, she's never going to change her chickenshit ways.

We ate at about 9:30, and then we were all just sitting around the fire, shooting the shit and drinking more wobbly pops. There was a brief plan to have one of the neighbour boys stay over with Jack (Austin was elsewhere for the night), but he ended up being too nervous. I put Jack to bed at about 10:30 or 11, and when I came upstairs, D immediately said:

"Ohmigod, he's burned badly. Fuck, Jen. What the hell are we going to do?!"

I'd heard someone come in the sliding glass door while I was downstairs, and it was D & Wiley. It seems that yet another dog skirmish had occurred, and this time? Wiley ended up in the fire, pushed there by the other dogs.

IN. THE. FIRE.

D says he yelped a little, at which point D pulled him out, and started patting him down. Because he was on fire. I still cannot wrap my head around this.

His entire back left leg is crispy with burnt hair, both on the outside, the paw, and up into his groin. His tail has also been shortened. When I first looked at it, I thought the burns were all the way down to his skin, but his fur protected him completely. It certainly explained why he wasn't limping or crying at all.

So now we have a crispy dog who smells like burnt hair. Fun times abound.



*Neighbour Dave is what my kids call him. Since we moved here, they have been fascinated by ND and his toys: tractors, power tools, welder, etc. Both of them will run outside when they see ND in his yard, just so they can have a chat. And ND is so cool about it, and says he loves to take the time to talk to them, because they crack him up.

Opera!

OMG.  Whoever recommended this browser (Sephy?  I owe you!  I'm assuming it was you. I could look, but damnit, that might be something like work.) is a genius.  Screw 
IE.  I abandoned it long ago, when the popups became more annoying than the pre-recorded telemarketers I so adore.  Fuck Netscape.  Abandoned this year, when it would. 
Not. Work.  Buh-bye Firefox, previously adored browser.  I am seriously tired of the 
freezing, the pausing, and the whole "I just can't work with that bastard 
QuickTime" diva routine.  

I am a convert.  At least for tonight.  It's possible Opera will begin to piss me off in the near
future, at which point I may reconsider my formerly beloved Firefox.  Or maybe not.  I am a difficult bitch woman to please.

Ok.  It's ALREADY pissing me off, making my WSIWYG blogspot editor lose it's mind and forget to text wrap.  GRRRR.

Perhaps a switch to Wordpress is in order.  Hmm?

Random ruminations.

QuickTime and/or Firefox are pissing me off. I've installed the the damn QT program, but every "Q" on every damn page is covered by an annoying "?" and I.don't.know.why.

I hate not knowing why. Haaaaate.

I googled the problem, and managed to find what seemed to be a reasonable fix. If only it had worked for me. Fuck. Anyone with ideas is more than welcome to share. Am going slowly crazy, and it's not so pretty.


I'm having another weird problem with Firefox (or maybe my somewhat-overloaded computer?). I loaded up blogspot, for example, and when trying to type a title for my last post, was returned to my last page instead. This is happening at random with different sites. And it's got to stop. Computers are supposed to be simple. Type and the letters appear. Anything else and I get frustrated. Also? Why the fuck is this thing slowing down? I can type a bunch of stuff and it's got this lag before it shows up. Grr.


This is the first year of A's school career that I have to buy the school supplies. In K through grade 3, I just write them a $35 cheque, and don't have to think about school stuff again. This year there will be a list. I would like to have the list, but I don't. In fact, I'm not sure where the hell the list might be. Did I miss the list when he finished grade 3? Am I not on the List List? Is there a List List? Do the other parents know and/or have the List? Am I out of the loop? Gahhhhh. I need the List. I am all about lists, and LOVE to shop for school stuff. Yes, I'm weird. I've come to terms with my reality. Meh.


What should I have for dinner? It's been a weird day. I forgot to eat breakfast - a no-no for me, but it wasn't a work day - and ended up having oatmeal and toast for lunch. J joined me, but he thought it was breakfast (I'd fed him toast at an appropriate time) and ended up asking for lunch 40 minutes later. He's doing a great job keeping that hollow leg filled. So, after the breakfast for lunch thing, I basically snacked this afternoon, in lieu of having a real meal. And now it's 9 pm, and I should have something. Maybe veggies and dip with a pb sandwich. Food of champions, I tell ya.


Ok. That's it. I need to go eat.

This is seriously weird.

D is gone. New job starts tomorrow, at 7:30 am. Hope he survives his first week.


Hope I survive (pseudo) single motherhood.


Hope the kids survive me, and the PMS freight train I'm riding.



Fun. Times.

Breaking up is hard to do.

D & I are splitting. Parting ways. Bidding adieu to this life we have.

After a fashion, that is.

A mere 18 months after his regional manager first floated the idea of him managing a store in a city further north, it's actually happening. Next. Fucking. Week.

He got the call yesterday. Not that I'm counting. Or in shock.

Ok. Maybe I am. Just a little.

D gets to embark upon a new chapter of his current career, and has the potential to out-earn yours truly for the first time in about 8 years. He'll be living the married-man-away-from-home life, and you can be damn sure I'm going to start insisting his wedding band is worn 24/7. (it's a long-standing joke that he doesn't wear it, and I honestly don't care if he does or doesn't. but I can't wait to tell him I'm insisting. hee)

What about me, you say? What will happen here at home?

I get to become a pseudo single mother. This part of the deal is the biggest drawback: no D = less "me" time, trying to keep the monsters in line without the "wait until your father *insert appropriate verbage* this!" threat, and a severe drop in marital relations. As much as he drives me bonkers sometimes, I love the guy, and being apart will be very weird.

In some ways, this may be good. Perhaps it will cause me to dial back the volunteer stuff a bit - god knows I could do with a reality check in that department - and perhaps I'll appreciate the kids more. I also have some Grand Plans to eat better and workout at home regularly. Pffft. We'll see.

Interestingly, there are some changes afoot in my company, and things may work out very well in relation to D's promotion. Suffice it to say that while the thought of having to sell our house and move is giving me palpitations, I know it can be done.

Time will tell.

Silly children.

There are things that my children have yet to learn. Case in point:

When I ask either son to "go & get your brother", they invariably choose to holler from the top of the stairs. That is not what I requested, and frankly, I could have yelled just as easily.

Complaining to me about someone else's mess that you had to clean up? Not garnering any damn sympathy from me. How about the 1.4 million messes I've had to clean up since giving birth?




The Jack thing is marginally better this week. It's not just food/hunger he whines about, it's everything, hence my frustration. We had a rerun of separation anxiety at daycare yesterday - he flipped out when I tried to leave to go to work. I felt badly for him, but the staff assured me he was fine 10 minutes later, once they got him talking about his trip. My parents are taking the kids today and tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to some kid-free time. I love them, but there's been a lot of Family Togetherness lately, and it's wearing on me.

Yes, I'm a Bad Mother, and proud of it.

Out of ideas.

I am tired of Jack. TIRED. Approximately 50% of the time, I don't like him very much. The other 50%(we're talking hours he's awake), he's pretty cool - playing with his brother, amusing himself, just being a kid.

It's the first 50% that's killing me. I feel like a horrible mother. He pushes and pushes and pushes, and I eventually lose my fucking mind and snap - it's rare that I resort to spanking, but I certainly yell. Too much.

What can I change? I am wracking my brains to think of something I can do differently.

A typical exchange:

Jack: Hungry!
Me: Pardon?
Jack: Me hungry!
Me: Who the heck is "me"? I don't know him. (we're trying to break this weird baby talk habit he's got going on lately)
Jack: I'm hungry, mommy.
Me: You can wait until dinner. (which is less than 1 hour away)
Jack: NO! I'm hungry!!
Me: I've answered you.
Jack: (whining begins) Mommmmmmmeeeeeeeee......I want something to eeeeeeeeeat!
Me: **ignoring him completely**
Jack: Mommmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! HUNGRY!!!!!!
Me: **still ignoring**
Jack: throwing himself at the floor, getting in my face, flopping on me like a rag doll (any one or all of these usually occur)
Me: that's IT! Go to your room!!!! ENOUGH.
Jack: No bedroom!!! NO!

This is about the point where I come close to exploding, and have to count to 10. Or 5. Whatever number I can get to and keep from kicking his whiny little ass into next fucking month.

I am done. I think I'll just invest in blinders and ear plugs and hope to hell that this ends soon.

I feel like an awful person. How can it be that I don't like my kid at least 50% of the time???

Something resembling normal.

Gawd. I swear, I need a vacation to recover from my damn vacation. It's the heat - Ontariario in July/August? A tidge on the warm side. 33C (give or take) with something like 900% humidity. Fun times.

A brief rundown:

Sunwing Airlines rocks. Two words: Full. Meal. A meal! On an airplane! I thought I'd faint. Actually, they begin with a hot towel service, followed by real food (with complimentary wine), finishing with a drink/snack service. The only bizarre thing was the timing on the flight east. We left Vancouver at 11:05 pm. Dinner was served at midnight (or 3 am in the time zone we were heading for).

Jack is like the rechargeable energizer bunny. On crack. He was awake until we got on the plane, at which time he commenced his nonstop chatter (D sat with the boys, I was with 2 strangers across the aisle). About 45 minutes in, the chatter stopped. I looked over, and he was out cold. Two speeds for that kid: full throttle and sleep.

Austin is a die-hard in the "I don't want to miss a DAMN thing" department. He was awake all day, and slept the least of the four of us on the plane (1 hour). He stayed awake all day after landing in Toronto, which included a 2+ hour drive to London. And, while each of us - my father in law, D, Jack & me - succumbed to naps, he remained awake. He did, however, pass out at 8:30 pm on Tuesday night, and did not get up until 10:30 the following morning.

I cannot believe it's been TWO years since we last saw the outlaws. That's just awful. I like my outlaws, and the kids need to know their "other" grandparents. I have resolved to never let such a long time elapse between visits. They're already talking about us coming back next summer - D is protesting, but it'll probably happen.

One of the best things was having our very own 27' trailer this year. With AIR. Woo! We had the site next to the outlaws' trailer, and having our own space meant nobody was tripping over each other and trying to avoid the piles of crap we just had to bring along. (what was I thinking, taking more than 1 pair of jeans? I lived in my bathing suit & shorts. duh.)

My sister in law's wedding was wonderful - beautiful bride, perfect venue, rocking reception. Seeing D's relatives in action really does explain so many things about him. Not the least of which is that he's turning into his father. I was cast in the role of DD yet again, which was actually enjoyable. I took the kids and D back to the trailer at 1 am, and returned to the hall to pick up my outlaws at 2 am. They're damn funny when they're drunk.

I didn't drink as much as I'd planned to, at the wedding or otherwise. I did, however, have about 5 times the vacation sex I expected. Lesson learned: trailers move a lot. And? My kids can sleep through pretty much anything.

Timing is everything.

Austin waited until last night to be hit with the stomach bug that Jack had last week. Yes, the night before we leave on vacation, and the kid was up half the night. I promised him he'd be better this morning, and he is. It's too bad they won't be eating KD for a while. That shit is nasty enough, without having to see it on a return visit. Gag.

The housesitter is all arranged, so the animals will have a minimum of disturbance to their lives, and I will have peace of mind. As a bonus, we don't have any rotten foster dogs around to steal my pillows and re-work them into fake snow in the backyard. That truly was the highlight of our return from Ontariario 2 years ago. Really.

In other news, I'm mostly packed. Just have to review the contents of all 4 suitcases and decide whether we need a shoes-only suitcase (I suspect we might - lucky we can each take 2 checked pieces). I also need to run the d/w, pack the last-minute crap, and wait for D to get off work. The travel plan includes gravol for the children (so they might sleep), a stop at my parents', and McChuck & Chunder at some point. Maybe. Totally dependent upon the stomach situation.