Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Did you hear that sound? The horrifying wailing that sounds like an injured animal? Listen more closely...
It's my credit card screaming when I try to charge anything to it at this time of year. The stuff of nightmares.
Luckily I don't have anything to buy right now.
Oh crap. That's right - I haven't even started my Christmas shopping yet!!
If you're feeling like I am, and you're not sure how you are going to pull off completing your Christmas list, then you definitely want to keep reading. I have teamed up with the super awesome ladies from BLUNTmoms to bring you a Christmas miracle!
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Saturday, November 30, 2013
Well we made it friends - 30 days of blogging every day. Some of it has been my best work. Other posts have been bird-cage material. But I wrote. And I wrote. And it felt great. Even on the nights that I would fall asleep at the dining room table, wake up, and start typing again like nothing had happened. Nerdguy found that to be completely bizarre behaviour. He said it reminded him of when Grace used to fall asleep in her jumperoo, but kept waking up from Maggie's loud bouncing, and she would immediately start jumping at full throttle until she lulled herself back to sleep again. It was possibly the most entertaining thing I have ever watched.
I got to watch another entertaining performance today (how's that for a segue eh?) - Molly is in a choir that performed two concerts today with some other choruses. It was a long and tricky day trying to make our schedules work for soundcheck, two concerts, and juggling kids. Grace and I went to the afternoon show and then Nerdguy went to the evening one. I was sure that Molly was going to have a meltdown when it was all over, or want to come home after the first show. Boy was I wrong. She has never looked more proud than when she was up on that stage. When the audience clapped I could see her just soaking it in. I may get a cheering section to follow her around permanently. Or get a clapping ringtone to wake her up in the morning. The whole show was great, but I just loved watching Molly's choir. I pretty much cried through the whole thing. Do you do that? Do you cry the second one of your kids is doing something big like that? I was like this at Grace's triathalon too. If they're looking for any middle-aged housewives that can cry on demand in the soap opera world - I'm their lady.
strangle move the Elf and then head to bed - we are going to see a different kind of show tomorrow as a family, and I KNOW I am going to bawl all the way through that one. I cried just telling Maggie's EA that we are going. I'll tell you about it when we get home. If I can see the screen by then through the tears. I may have to dictate to Siri. Of course it will likely come out more like "We went to a snowglobe broccoli outerspace knitting George." Siri's kind of a bitch.
I was just trying to think of a title and fell asleep. Good thing I'm not a security guard.
Friday, November 29, 2013
I'm sorry to make an announcement that I won't be around here too much anymore - I've got a new full-time job.
Senior Elf on the Shelf Mover-Arounder
A job that not only comes with a super-fancy title, but also includes bizarrely random shift work, often including panicked reporting for duty in the middle of the night, and no money whatsoever.
Now I know that you are wondering how you too can make absolutely no money from home while
working for your children being your own boss. I will tell you how!
Refuse to let one of those weaselly elves into your house, but cave like a house of cards when your child sees the enormous display of elves in the store.
Spend a month playing the elf game and put it away in a "safe place" on Christmas Eve. Be unable to find it the following year and face the prospect of shelling out more money for another
asshole in a red suit elf.
Find the elf in the box where you hide all the kids' teeth. Try to fish the elf out of the box without taking down from the jenga-like structure that you have built on your bedroom closet shelf. Drop the box, launching a dozen human teeth through the air. Fight the urge to vomit all over the elf.
Place the elf
in an elaborate pinterest-worthy scene on an unoriginal shelf.
On the very first day in a moment of before-school mania find yourself saying "Well I don't think Polka is going to want to come back tomorrow after such disrespectful behaviour."
Forget to move the elf the second night.
Listen to your children cry and worry all day because they are convinced that someone touched the elf and killed it. Seriously consider burying it in a shoebox in the backyard, with a tiny gravestone reading "And this is why we can't have nice things."
Buy a skirt for the elf. Spend several hours contemplating what has happened to your sad life.
Really feel yourself spiraling when you realize that you are writing after midnight on a Friday night about a doll that looks like a cross between a creepy clown and the star of a cautionary after-school special.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Maggie usually has one EA in the morning and another one in the afternoon, but they were both away today. Normally she does quite well switching between therapists, teachers, etc but today was not that day. It could also be because she had a sudden urge to look for her leftover cookie and doughnut from last night, and was upset that they weren't where she left them in the car. It took 3 or 4 EAs to get her in the building, up the stairs, down the hall and to her locker. And just short of a tactical response team to get her shoes on.
Luckily the rest of her day went more smoothly, and I didn't have to bring the supply EA any purse wine.
Because I was going to need to keep the wine for later in the day when the mechanic told us that my van needs $1,500 of repairs. Santa/GM/Chrysler I hope you're listening!
Tonight I was off to a seminar about stress management for autism families.
Stress? What stress? I don't have any stress!
Not enough to keep me from falling asleep at the table apparently. This writing everyday this is hard core! And I just realized that someone left the living room blinds open and I was sleeping at the dining room table with my head back and my mouth wide open. I'll be the only person on the People of Walmart site who wasn't even at Walmart.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
...she doesn't want to be right.
Since all of the words that want to leave my brain are of the swearing variety, I am going to plead the bloggers' equivalent of the fifth - Wordless Wednesday.
Well almost. You know I'm too wordy for that!
It was a crazy night with a school meeting, brownies, choir, and dropping the minivan of doom off at the mechanic. I had an intricately planned schedule worked out in my head about how we were going to get everyone where they needed to be at the appropriate times. It involved a ridiculous number of loops around town, everyone's cooperation, and a small miracle. But we were going to do it. I was ready.
I explained the plan to Nerdguy. And then I explained it again. And then he asked several questions that made my internal clock scream with rage inside (okay there was exterior yelling as well) my body. Once I got him to understand the first hour of the plan, and he wanted to know the rest of it I may have gone off on a rant. I told him that he isn't ready to hear the second half, and just needed to know the first half. That if I went over the second half again, he was not going to be where he should at the right times in the first half. It perplexes me as to why he has absolutely no concept of time, and a brain like a sieve when it comes to a plan, a time, or a calendar.
Things were trucking along. We were actually ahead of schedule during most of the stages.
And then I made a wrong turn.
And then I had the bright idea to stop at Tim Horton's.
Maggie had been so patient riding around in the car, and was excited to pick out a treat. She chose a vanilla dip doughnut and a gingerbread man. The day we had to evacuate the house last year because of the wasps I had apparently let her get both of those things. She has a memory like a friggin' elephant.
Her parents do not.
Midway through our treats I suddenly realized that we weren't where we were supposed to be and I had screwed up the entire plan. We jumped up and started to pack up Maggie's desserts. At which point she started wrestling me for them because she thought I was going to throw them away. Or eat them. That kid is serious about protecting her food. Earlier Nerdguy was eating some of the popcorn out of the bag that Maggie was eating out of. She grabbed every last kernel out of his hand and put them back in the bag.
In the end, with only a bruised ego after Nerdguy howled at me for not understanding my own plan, we got everyone home safely and on time. I await my medal to arrive in the mail.
The sweary bits are from the encounter that we had with a lady who was camped out working on an assignment in the coffee shop. Maggie made one of her loud high-pitched squeals, which I did not even notice at first because we're used to it. Well I guess this woman is not. She actually stared me down. I felt her glaring at us even though we stopped Maggie fairly quickly, and when I looked up at her she wouldn't break eye contact, and had a hateful look on her face. I mouthed "Is there something I can do for you?" and she still would look away. And then she started talking into her blackberry on speaker. I resisted the urge to spill my coffee on her papers, but in my mind I totally threw it in her face.
Wow - this is about as un-wordless as you can get, and I fell asleep at my computer again, so nighty night! I'll tell you the other reasons for the inside-my-head cursing tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
I've found a lot of things in my kitchen that I don't expect to see, but I am not normally fazed. As the saying goes - it takes a lot to scare me - I've got twins.
But this day...
...I was scared.
Had the raccoons that live under the deck started using tools? Were even they so distressed by the state of the deck that they were prepared to take things into their own nimble hands and build a new one?
Or was this some kind of statement from the neighbours about the dismal state of our yard, and the fact that our wheelbarrow had been leaning up against the house for the entire summer. Was this a warning just in case our next move was to use a toilet as a planter?
Was this the equivalent of finding a horse's head in my bed?
I went off to the other room to
hide google "wheelbarrow serial killers" and when I came back I found Nerdguy checking the tire pressure.
He was going to kill me and the wheelbarrow was how he was planning to get rid of my body! The neighbours would be so glad to have it gone from the yard that I am sure they would deny having seen anything.
Just as I was looking around for a good solid candlestick to whack him over the head with - this took a bit of time, as all I could find was a glade plug-in - he turned and spoke.
"Oh hi honey, I'm glad you're here."
"Oh I'll bet you are!"
"Can you help me with the TV?"
What does he think I'm stupid? I know he's been trying to kill me mentally at least with that TV I don't know how to work - now he's going to use it to kill me kill me? And he thinks I'm going to HELP him? Is he not even planning to address the subject of the wheelbarrow in my kitchen?
"Umm, I'd love to dear, but I've got these errands I've got to run. I might be awhile."
As I was running around the house frantically gathering my important things like my iPhone, passport, and Mexican currency I turned and saw him moving the wheelbarrow toward me. Some would say he was even charging at me. Some have also been told that they are hysterical drama queens. Some were insulted.
In a last-minute twist of events, he maneuvered to the family room. And wheeled up to in front of the TV.
"Help me lower the TV into the wheelbarrow so we can put the new one in place."
So then this happened:
Nerdguy needs back surgery, and shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. And I sure as hell can't lift a 32 inch TV by myself! Mostly because of how awkward the shape is more so than the weight. Because I am surprisingly strong. Maybe cheesies build muscle - I don't know. Although that Chester Cheetah dude has skinny little barbie arms. It's a mystery.
We could have phoned someone to help us, except we are the two most stubborn people on the planet when it comes to asking for help. So scratch that plan.
Clearly a wheelbarrow in the family room was the only way to go.
I'm sure we're on YouTube somewhere if anyone caught footage of us wheeling the TV out the front door, DOWN THE STAIRS, and into the garage. You know as much as I complain about several of our neighbours, I'm beginning to think that we may be the problem. Have you seen the movie The 'Burbs with Tom Hanks? I think we might be moving away from being like the characters in his family and a little too close to being the neighbours they were spying on.
This all happened a year ago.
What happened to the TV and the wheelbarrow?
One guess why I can't park my mini-van in the garage this winter.
If you see me pushing a wheelbarrow down the street one day, don't make eye contact.
Monday, November 25, 2013
I have been a very good
While we are on the topic of the reindeer, could you be a dear (not the animal - but rather a sweetheart - forgive me if you understood that - I'm not sure how your spelling and grammar are considering you mostly correspond with children, and write judgmental lists) and check to see if the roofers ever came back to fix the shingles while you are up on the roof? If they have not, then please place them on your naughty list and deliver a load of coal and a family of skunks down their chimneys on your way by.
My children have written some lengthy letters to you, filled with items that their hearts desire. If these lists include anything with more than 3 pieces, glitter, or a doll that requires us to invest in diapers again please burn the letters and forget you ever read them. In their place, I have some suggestions:
I heard that one lady got 8 of them, so surely I can have just one. And she doesn't even need to be a-milking. A-dusting and a-vacuuming will do just fine.
I know for a fact that my children would all be on board with this request, and I feel quite confident that they would enjoy not shouting out "Will there be a fire?" the way they did tonight when I was browning the ground beef. I have the only children who do not like take-out and squeal with joy "Is it from scratch?" with disbelief in their voices when they can't find evidence of a box from the freezer. Please perform a Christmas miracle!
A TV that I Can Use
I'm sure you're well aware of Nerdguy and his Honey I Shrunk the Kids ways. You've seen the struggles that I have just trying to turn the lights on in my own home. Perhaps you have had trouble with the doorbell/intercom when you found the chimney full of raccoons on Christmas Eve. And I am sure you know that he made a PVR out of a jerry-rigged xbox, because that's clearly infringing on your toy-making territory. Well it's impossible to work and all I want to do is watch my damned Modern Family. Is that so much to ask? I'll leave a few extra cookies and a bottle of "eggnog" out for you if you install it for me too.
A Sweet Ride
My minivan is 10 years old and is aging as gracefully as I am. At this point it is held together by a paste made up of the contents of leaked yogurt tubes, crushed cheerios, and dunkaroo icing. Something with the words "Stow 'n Go" in the description would make you my favourite
A New Patio
You've seen the dismal state of my deck. Maybe have a few of your elves swing by and cobble together a patio for me. Tell them to wear those suits like the police canine unit wear when they train the dogs - the raccoons are biters.
Just in case your workshop has branched out and modernized, or maybe has a little "side business" going to raise a little extra cash in these tough economic times - feel free to fill my stocking with whatever you think will bring my sanity back - white pills, blue pills, purse-wine - I'll leave that choice up to you. Christmas is all about surprises after all.
As the maid is not here as of yet, I need to cut this letter short so that I may attend to my chores. Have safe travels on the big night, and remember not to park on the deck. I will be sure to leave a box of Girl Guide cookies out for you because
Merry Christmas and please give my best to Mrs. Claus. And help her out around the house for once or you're going to find she makes some adjustments on that sleigh of yours. Just because she is a homemaker doesn't mean you can leave your dirty underwear all over the floor!!!
This first appeared on Don't Lick the Deck.