The Results are In:

The "Choose My Haircolour" poll is now closed. Red won, with 60% of the vote.

I can only get to red via blonde.

I'll post pics so we can all laugh at me together. :)

Cinnimony Fresh

Last night, after the children were nestled all snug in their beds, I finally got around to mopping the floors and getting the stains out of the sofa. I was so looking forward to coming downstairs this morning to clistening floors beneath my feet, and curling up with my coffee on a sofa that was beige once again.

It is apparent that my children had other ideas.

I do appreciate that they can get out of bed and put their own toast in the toaster, but really - do they have to decide on cinnamon toast without telling me? Do they have to hold their toast out in front of them while they sprinkle cinnamon for said cinnamon toast? Do they absolutely have to somehow get cinnamon not only over every. single. square inch. of the kitchen, but leave a trail of it through the living room and up the stairs? I didn't even know we had that much cinnamon. Furthermore, HOW do you manage to smear butter between the inside of the trashcan and the bag??

On the upside, my house smells like I've been baking all day - and I won't gain a pound!

I can't decide if this is gross or not.

While I sort laundry for folding, I weed out anything that the kids have grown out of to give to Goodwill. We finally filled up the second garbage bag today, so it was time for a drop-off. While we were there, we toodled about the store, poking around at what other people had weeded out. Well, Rachel found lemon-yellow bedsheet for 99cents, and she gave me the big pleading eyes until I agreed to get it for her. To be fair, she's wanting to do her whole room in that colour, so I would have had to look for lemon-yellow sheets eventually anyway. But how icky is this, exactly? I mean, used bedsheets. It's just the fitted sheet, and it's in really good condition, but someone else has slept on it. Ok. I can wash it, right? We've all slept at hotels, this can't be any worse than THAT.

And well, it's her - not me.

Opinions? WWYD?

Well, that was easier than I thought.

So I called the gas company today. Finn screamed in the background the ENTIRE time. Of course, by "in the background" I mean "in the ear not occupied by the phone". I don't really recall what was said, but they'll be sending a guy out to hook me back up within the next three hours.

I knew I had that boy for a reason.

Stupid is as stupid does...

So, guess who is just dumber than a bag of dead cats?

I'll tell you! Me! I am dumber than a BIG bag of dead cats! See, the last house I was in was an apartment. The GAS BILL was included in my rent. Therefore, I did not need to worry my pretty little head about it. Now in THIS house, it is evidently not included. Now, WHO do you suppose didn't remember this tidbit of information? WHOO has completely neglected to pay said gas bill since we moved in? WHOOO has not worried her pretty little head about it?

Me, that's who.

And now who has had the gas shut off, and now has no heat - and more unhappily - no hot water?

Yeah.

And who already spent her available funds paying other bills and getting groceries and even splurging on her very VERY expensive brain medicine?

I'll bet you've caught on by now.

It's gonna be a chilly couple of weeks in The Mommy's house.

(I'm sure they sent me bills and even notified me about the upcoming disconnection. See, the problem is I don't actually OPEN my bills, I just look at what I owe online. I should really start opening my mail...)

Hey Nana, make up the guest bed.

Today Lillian told me she is moving to Singapore to live with Nana and Grandad. She even packed her bags. She brought her dress shoes, clean underwear, and an extra pillow. She put some cereal in a ziploc bag to eat on the plane, and counted out her leftover Yen. She figures the 80 or so Yen (less than $1) she has from our stopover in Japan earlier this year should get her a plane ticket from there to Singapore. She was quite upset with me when I wouldn't let her raid my change jar to pay for her ticket from here to there. I told her to get a job. She asked how much money she'd need, and I told her about $4000. She refuses to believe that they won't let her fly by herself so young. She's got it all figured out though. She's going to save her allowance to pay for the cab to the ferry, take the ferry across, and pay for the cab to the airport. She hasn't quite figured out how to pay for the first flight, but she's hoping Nana will call her so she can ask her for a ticket. So Nana, call Lily. She's got something to ask you. And can I please listen in? Well, I really only want to hear Lily's side, it's sure to be one of those moments to remember. Maybe I'll record it for posterity. She decided that she'll write me once a week, but that any pictures of herself she sends are strictly to go to Finnigan. If she wants one to go to me, she'll specify that in her letter. Adios family, ciao school, sayonara friends. Lily's moving overseas.

I wish her well.

She's too precocious for her own damn good.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

So I took the kids to McDisgustington's tonight for dinner, as promised. We even went inside so they could play in the even-more-disgusting playplace. They went in and played while I got the "food", and then we sat down in the playroom to eat. While we were eating, this guy at another table looks over and says,



"Your girls are so quiet, how on earth do you do it?"



HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I laughed so hard, I'm pretty sure he feared for his children's safety. He sure looked at me like I was deranged. Oh, if only he could spend a day in my life. Turns out he's a single dad with three little girls, and those girls are apparently my girls' soulmates. I told him "Pal, my kids are FAR from quiet. It's only because I ran them like DOGS all day today and threatened to break their little faces if they misbehaved that they're even acting like humans in here. Trust me, your girls are perfectly normal!"



Then I brought them home and bathed them in bleach and hand sanitizer, because those McAwful's playplaces really make my skin crawl.

Migraine Hangover

Well, those were 30 of the worst hours of my life.

I got another migraine. I hate migraines. I loathe migraines. This one included double vision and throwing up into my coffee cup. *gag*

I started feeling headache-y yesterday, but figured it was just that I hadn't gotten enough sleep lately and spent too much time staring at my computer screen. I resolved to go to bed early, but that fell through when I remembered that Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice are on on Thursday nights. Sigh. Priorities, right? I swear I went to bed right after, though.

I don't think I slept at all. The headache became a migraine at some point, and by then you're hooped. I'm totally useless once it hits that point, and even though the medicine is in the hall closet, right across from my bedroom - and right next to the bathroom for water to wash it all down, I couldn't make it. It took supreme effort just to attempt to sleep it off. It didn't work. When my alarm went off this morning, just turning over in bed to hit "off" almost made me toss my cookies. I got dizzy and nauseous. Yay. That was when I decided that March Break was starting a day early. Yes, that's how bad it was. Alas, it's not a good idea to get behind the wheel of a car stuffed with children when you are seeing two of everything, and everything is a little fuzzy around the edges. I finally made it out of bed enough to get my meds. I took my meds. I promptly threw up my meds. I took a deep breath and took more meds. These ones stayed down. I told the kids I had a migraine, and went back to bed. Once the meds kick in, I'm lucky if I can lift my own arm, let alone stay upright.

There is one thing I am VERY grateful for, though. I spend a lot of time on here exasperated with my girls. They are the #1 cause of most of my migraines, I think. BUT, when I get one, they really step up to the plate. They were so wonderful today, I was so proud. They really take care of me when I get a migraine. Lily got up, got herself dressed, and then went and got Finn out of his crib. She changed his bum and got him dressed and even made him a poached egg for breakfast! Then she took him into his bedroom, shut the door, and played cars with him for THREE HOURS while I rested. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. That is the sweetest thing, and I just love her to bits for it. The only thing I had to do was put him down for his nap (she can get him out of his crib, but she can't get him back in). She even brought me more meds and a glass of water when it was time. God bless that girl! Rachel, for her part, just stayed the heck outta the way. She got herself dressed and made her own breakfast, then went back to her room, shut the door, and has been watching TV quietly ever since. Not fighting with her sister is just the greatest gift I could ask for.

Once the second round (third, if you count the "returned' ones) of meds kicked in and my world focused enough for me to function, I walked down the street and bought them each a treat as a thank-you. I hugged them and kissed them and told them how much everything they did meant to me and how wonderful they were for it. Then I promised them McDonalds for dinner for being so good, even though the thought of McRaunchy's makes me nauseous all over again... But they sure as hell earned it today!

Now I just have what I oh-so-lovingly refer to as a "Migraine Hangover". Anyone who has had a migraine knows what I'm talking about. They just take all the stuffing right out of you. I'm tired, I'm weak, I'm just beat.

On the upside, there were supposed to be guys here pouring cement into my crawlspace today but they never showed. Praise God. I really don't think I could have handled a cement truck outside my house all day today. I'll have to make them cookies for not showing up when they said they would. That should confuse the shit out of them.

I could just... Cry. Alot.

So, the wonderful marvelous spectacular private school that we drive 40 minutes each way to have the girls attend? They have a two-week March break.

TWO. WEEK. MARCH. BREAK.

This cannot be happening. I NEED them to go to school. It's not just education, it's my sanity!

Ok brain, THINK. They can get jobs. Go to summer camp. Volunteer? Can I loan them out to show childless couples what having kids is REALLY like? Can I chain them up in the attic? Convince them that the crawlspace is a really cool hideout? Forced slavery?

Next year: Boarding School.

Caught strawberry-handed

He doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. He's rockin' the ambidexterous thing though.

I think we've solved the mystery of how the strawberry jam ended up under the table, upside down, with no lid.

Desperately seeking:

1. A really good recipe for white bread, from scratch.
2. A really good chocolate chip cookie recipe, no nuts.
3. A really good recipe for white cake, from scratch. I like my cake on the dense side.
4. A really good recipe for buttercream icing.

Anybody?

I will Big Love you forever

Does anyone else watch the show "Big Love"? I'm totally hooked. If you "Big Love" it as much as I do, leave a comment. I need to talk to someone about it!

(If you want to leave an email address and don't want it published, state that in your comment.)

It's worse than LOLspeak

Do you know how incredibly addictive (fluff)Friends on Facebook are? They are incredibly addictive is what they are is what they are. True story. I spent about a billion hours today with my pet, Squar the Squirl [sic]. I cyber-shopped for him, cyber-pet him, and cyber-fed him until all the cyber-staring at my computer screen made me feel a little green about the edges. Now I want you all to get (fluff)Friends so you can cyber-gift me things. I have no life.

Addictions are a real PITA.

I'm not messy, I'm composting!

I'm new to the world of composting, and therefor I don't have any preconceived notions of how I'm "supposed to" do things. Meaning, I do things my way - which may not necessarily be the right way. I like the idea of recycling, but I don't actually want to have to go through all the trouble of setting up a composter, watching what I put in it so it stays healthy, blah blah blah. My solution - dump all organic matter in the forest! WOOHOO! I keep a big ol' bucket in the kitchen (formerly the "barf bucket" when the kids are sick - don't worry, I cleaned it) and I just dump all our little odds and ends when I'm doodling around in the kitchen into it. Egg shells, carrot tops, wilted lettuce, etc. and then after dinner, the kids take it out to the forest conveniently located just to the left of our house and dump it.



You know what's neat? The garbage doesn't stink anymore. No more rotting food hanging around. You know what else? The forest doesn't stink either. Something magical happens to the food you dump there. Animals eat the big stuff, worms and bugs eat the little stuff, and the rest (and the animals/bugs own "recycling") gets broken down for plant food. I was out there he other day poking around, I lifted up an old eggshell - and there was a flower growing underneath. How cool.



I know one thing - my flower beds are very appreciative of the top-notch soil I've been pulling out of there. Worms and all.

It's a sing along!

Happy Birthday to ME!
Happy Birthday to ME!
Happy Birthday to MEEEEEE,
Happy Birthday to ME!

And yes, I do accept presents. ;)

Mmm, birthday steak

So, in honour of my darling husband getting another year older - I made all his favorite foods. So what if he wasn't here to enjoy them? It's the thought that counts!

We had steak, marinated for a full day in balsamic vineagar, extra-virgin olive oil, red onions, red/orange/yellow bell peppers, fresh basil that I grew by my very own self, garlic, salt, and pepper:

That was BBQ'd with baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and a big ol' salad. Oh baby yeah! Soooo good.

I even made cupcakes last night, but somehow the didn't make it through the day. I'm not really sure what happened there...

Happy birthday sweetie, I love you!

Bah Humbug

So, The Daddy's and my wedding anniversary was March 7th. Do you think I got a nice, candelit dinner for two? No. Do you think I got flowers and chocolate? No. Do you think I even got to see the man I married? That would be no. See, the military is anti-family. They HATE marriages, and want to see them die. This is why they insist on taking husbands and fathers away from their children on important days such as these. BAH. HUMBUG.

Bah Humbug to my mom and dad, too. Do you know that we had this neat thing all worked out, wherein our anniversary is on March 7th, my parents' wedding anniversary was on the 8th, The Daddy's birthday is today - the 9th - and MY birthday (which I ALSO get to spend ALONE) is on the tenth. Well, they had to go and ruin all that by getting divorced now, didn't they? So what if they are happier and better off now, this blog is about ME. So what if it was for the better all around? I told everyone we shoulda gotten married on the 11th. I TOLD YOU SO. No seriously, my parents did what was truly best for them. But they screwed up my run! BAH. HUMBUG.

Bah Humbug to all this snow, too. Do you know that I couldn't take the girls to school today because of all this snow? Yeah. Three days in a row with them. FUN. Not. Then, as soon as the snow stopped, it cleared up and is beautiful out - clear roads and all. Of course, this is the point juuuust after I had decided it was too late to even bother with a half day. Of course. BAH HUMBUG. I'm so glad we're paying tuition so they can sit at home with me. BAH HUMBUG.

STAIN DISDAIN

Let's get one thing straight. I am the undisputed master of the universe in matters of stain removal from fabrics. Or at least, I want to be. I'm already pretty good though. I have started a new blog:

http://staindisdain.blogspot.com

It has no posts yet, as I just started it not three minutes ago. The plan is to deal with every kind of stain you can think of, and tell you how to get it out - for sure. None of this "try this, try that" crap. None of that "put a patch over it" crap. The stains WILL come out. I have yet to be bested by one, and I don't intend to be defeated.

There will be pictures. Oh yes, there will be pictures.

There will be explanations.

We'll learn about Stain Composition (Woohoo, chemistry. Blah.). Know thine enemy. Knowledge is power.

Products will be named, and alternatives if available. We'll discuss how and why they worked, or didn't. We'll boycott the ones that just plain suck.

We'll get dirty. Well, something will get dirty. My kids will probably be at fault.

It will (hopefully) be both educational and entertaining. It will (hopefully) be the be-all, end-all, ulitmate and universal guide to Stain Removal.

Somehow, it will make me lots of money. (Hey, I can hope.)

Your mission is SUGGESTIONS. I'll set up a first post over there for you to leave comments on, and you can submt your suggestions there. From the simple to the obscure - I want it!

Send me your stained and your spotted, your dirty and discoloured, your blotchy and bloodied. I'll find a way to restore it. I won't give up!

How to make lunch:

1. Get hungry.
2. Go to kitchen.
3. Unearth counter from under piles of homework, fliers, permission slips, napkins, bills, scribbled shopping lists, children's art, recipies, and - for some reason - seed packets.
4. Take out bread, which has somehow gone stale since it was purchased yesterday - probably due to the fact that you are the only one who knows how to close the bag.
5. Remove old crumb-covered knife from butter, use new knife to apply butter to bread. Wash both knives and put away.
6. Open peanut butter.
7. Wonder why peanut butter is half full of PAM Cooking Spray.
8. Throw peanut butter in garbage.
9. Open honey instead.
10. Wonder why honey is half full of PAM Cooking Spray.
11. Throw honey in garbage.
12. Throw now-empty PAM cooking spray in garbage.
13. Add peanut butter, honey, and PAM Cooking Spray to current shopping list.
14. Take cold-cut bin out of fridge.
15. Attempt to find cold-cut with no pre-existing toddler-sized bite marks.
16. Throw cold-cuts in garbage.
17. Add cold-cuts to current shopping list.
18. Attempt to locate jam.
19. Find jam upside down under kitchen table, with no lid.
20. Throw jam in garbage.
21. Add jam to current shopping list.
22. Comb cupboards for anything else to put on sandwhich.
23. Give up, take money out of husbands change jar, and go to restaurant.

Maybe I can make a whip switch out of it.

So, I got a willow tree. Or rather, I *ahem* aquired a willow tree. You see, the smaller of the Diva Trees died (the cat did it) and I needed something to take it's place. Willows, being stupendously easy to grow and harder to kill than rocks sounded like a right good choice. Right? Wrong. It all seemed so easy. Go out, cut a couple lenghts of branch of a nearby twisted willow, braid together, jam in damp soil. Waddya know, it grew roots and buds and is thriving. Herein lies the rub. You can't grow a willow tree inside. Well, you can, but sooner rather than later they just take over. Like I say, they grow really easily. Good. Now I have some lovely live sticks in a pot in my living room.

Did I mention that willows shed more than my dang CAT? 'Cuz they do. Messy trees, they are.

Anyway, I've got this really ugly plant thing in a perfect spot on my lawn (a holdover from the last tenents, apparently they have no taste) that I've been absolutely itching to dig up since I got here. So, seemingly perfect solution - dig up ugly plant, insert pretty willow, enjoy! Right? Wrong. Raise your hand if you can tell me what a deer's favorite food is.

I have learned it is willow trees.

Have I mentioned the deer here yet? We have a lot of deer. As in, our side yard is a forest and the deer will come right up onto your back steps if you give them an apple. My aren't our lawn ornaments life-like!

I digress.

I now have a willow tree (read: three sticks stuck in wet soil) that I can't keep indoors, and can't plant outdoors. Stupid tree. Stupid me. Stupid deer!

Product Review: SWHEAT SCOOP

Can we talk Kitty Litter here for a minute? (Of course we can, it's my blog and I do what I want.) Kitty litter is disgusting. Kitty litter in your own house, even more so. But what can you do? The Fuzzy Orange Ball of Stupid that lives here needs a place to poop!

I have the answer - thy name is SWHEAT SCOOP. No, that's not a typo. See, it's made completely of wheat. Most cat litter is clay based, with a host of other chemicals to make it not become slimy and keep it smelling nice. Swheat Scoop is made of 100% natural, totally biodegradable, easily renewable wheat. It's completely flushable in septic tanks and sewers alike, and I swear to you, is entirely odourless. The first time I used it, I immediately noticed that there was no dust kicked up when I poured it in the litter box. No more toxic mushroom cloud that can clog your lungs and burn your eyes while adding fresh litter! Then I tried to smell it. No smell. Unless you stick your nose literally inches from the litter, and then it smells faintly of fresh bread. Not so bad, I say. Even the dirty litter doesn't smell. Now, my cat can clear out a room with the best of us, but once you light a match in there after him - it's done. Kronk took to the new litter with zero issues - it looks and feels just like conventional litter, though it is beige in colour instead of the standard Institutional Grey. It clumps and scoops just like conventional litter, and because it doesn't smell - my kids don't mind scooping! With three of us scooping whenever we're in the bathroom anyway (handily, it's where we keep the litter) no one ever has to do the heavy duty cleaning necessitated by a neglected litter box.

Cons: It's about twenty cents/lb more expensive. Meaning you pay less than two dollars more per big ol' box that lasts my one cat a month. That's it. That's the list of cons.

I seriously will never go back. I want stock in this company. I kind of wish I used a litter box.

Swheat Scoop people, call me. I wanna write your next ad campaign!

Mind your own business, old fart

Dear the snotty old bluehair at the grocery store today:

When my son is saying "Ow", it's NOT because I'm hurting him. He's meowing. Like a cat. That's why he was using that funny voice. That's why I was laughing and tickling him under the chin. That's why I was calling him "Kitty". MYOB lady, Depends are in aisle 4. Isn't it almost time for your meds back at the retirement castle? Don't make me drop-kick you back to your glory days in the roaring '20's.

Sincerely,
The Mommy

Backup! I need backup!

I didn't lose them, I temporarily misplaced them.

The girls, that is. I let them play outside, and they asked if they could go to the park. Fine, ok, that's right beside our house. Yeah, how stupid of me to not specify which park. Rookie mistake! So, dinner's on the stove, the baby is baby-gated in his room, and I'm outside in my sweat pants calling their names like I'm looking for my damn dog. Mother of the year, I am. Well, just as I'm about to load the baby in the car and tour the neighbourhood, who should come marching home? Two VERY GROUNDED little girls. Apparently they mistook the word "park" for "random stranger's house near a completely different park". They're lucky we live in a safe neighbourhood. Apparently they just saw a house with bikes and toys outside, went up and knocked on the door, and asked the woman who answered if she had any kids they could play with!!! :O And then they did!

They are so beyond grounded. We've had the "stranger danger" talks, they've heard the stories on the news about what happens to kids who wander off with strangers, they KNOW better.

I should have asked the woman who brought them home if she'd like to keep them. That or they need shock collars and one of those invisible fence things you use for dogs. Pigeons learn faster than those two.

At least they were getting along for once. It's kind of refreshing to punish them for something other than pounding the everloving shit out of each other/screaming insults at the top of their lungs.

Rachel and I had a good long snuggle the other night, with a big talk about acceptable behaviours, and how you should always be nice to your sister and respect your mama, blah blah blah. I thought I got through to her. Apparently, notsomuch. Sigh. I had the same conversation while Lily helped me make dinner. Intellectually, she completely understands. They both know how they want to be treated, and they both know that mommy doesn't - and never has - catered to the "she started it" argument, and yet something happens whenever they are together at home. At school they are so close, they play together at recess, they share their lunches, they help carry each others' stuff... But at home they are just VICIOUS to each other! I brought it up at the recent parent/teacher conference, and the teachers couldn't believe what I was saying because of how they act at school. They are the best of friends there, and the worst of enemies here. Except that occasionally here they are the best of friends too, until they're not.

Now I don't have a sister, so I've got no frame of reference. The Daddy doesn't have any sisters either (nor is he one) so we're both in the dark on this one. Is this even close to normal behaviour? What am I doing wrong? They have activities that they participate in together, and apart, they're in different grades but the same school, they have overlapping but individual circles of friends, I don't favour one over the other...

If this is 6 & 7, I don't even want to think about the teenage years. I'm going to need stronger medication. The Mommy only has so much will to live, KWIM?

Where's Dr. Phil when you need him?

I had NOTHING to do with it

I just heard on the news that the local economy has enjoyed a 0.6% hike in consumer spending (read: shopping) since the month I moved here.

I swear honey - it's just a coincidence!

I should just shave it all and buy wigs

Lily told me today that she thinks I should make my hair red again (like my profile pic). I've gotta admit, I really love having it that colour. So now I'm torn. Naturally, my hair is a pretty dark, boring brown. Which means that I have to bleach the crap out of it, and then add the red in. Red is the fastest-fading colour, and all that bleach really does a number on your hair. Now, my sadistic hairdresser just whacked off a significant portion of my hair, so my ends are about as good as they're gonna get, but having gone red twice already and then on top of that is all the dye to match my hair back to my roots (so I'm my unnaturally my natural colour again).

I'm torn.

My husband says that if I process my hair anymore, it's all going to fall out. That scared the bejeezus out of me! Has anyone actually had that happen before??? I don't want that to happen, but I really feel that I'm a redhead at heart. I firmly believe in deep conditioning, but there's no fix for falling out!

Thoughts? Suggestions? Wanna come hold my hand?

Red is a pain in the ass to maintain, but really it's the only beauty vice I have. I don't really wear makeup, I do my own mani/pedi's (and my husband's, shhh)... I can keep it up.

Somebody make this decision for me! I've posted pics of both colours before, which do we like best?

And so it begins...

The ba-ba's are going bye-bye. It is time. It was probably time a long time ago, but he still really wanted them, and I didn't see any real reason to traumatize him by taking them away before he was ready. But now it is time, and he's ok with that.

Step one: Restrict bottles to before naps/bedtime. Check!

Step two: Use up remaining 8oz bottle liners. Check!

Step three: Transition to 4oz bottles. Check!

Step four: Use up remaining 4oz bottle liners. In progress.

Step five: Bye-bye bottles!

I'll keep you posted on how it goes. So far, so good.

Two birds, one stone

Finnigan was apparently quite anxious to get in the bath tonight. He looooves his bath time.

You'll notice that he's even still wearing his slippers. Inexplicably, he was NOT wearing his diaper.

New house, same old antics...

Here a princess, there a princess...

The girls ditched the boys and went to see Cinderella at the real live theater in Singapore:

They thoroughly enjoyed the show!

Finnigan's first haircut :)

Awww, so cute. We got tired of constantly hearing what a pretty little girl he was, so the baby hair got it's first cut! I'll spiff him all up and post the "after" pic tomorrow. *Sniff* I miss his little baby curls!

I told you so.

Remember two posts ago how I said that every time I frickin' turned around, there was some new destruction the girls had wrought? Yeah. I went to give the baby his bath tonight (more on that later) and found toe prints on the lino floor in BRIGHT. RED. NAILPOLISH.

And then they lied to me about it! How dumb do you have to be?? Seriously! I know it wasn't me, it obviously wasn't Finn, and you have evidence all over your hands. Methinks you're not as sharp as you look.

They both went to bed without dinner, which is something I've never done before. I am at my wits end though, with those two. They're now grounded indefinitly, with no toys, no TV, no colouring stuff, no playing together... Until they grow brains.

I know that nailpolish marks are not a huge deal, in and of themselves, but add that to the sneaking candy, writing on walls, lying, fighting, mess-making, and the fact that they somehow plugged up the bathroom sink, and well - it's enough.

Tomorrow, I put them to work. I am going to break these two - before I go out of my already medicated MIND.

Because my brain is fried, that's why.

How do you forget milk? Seriously?

I went shopping for a few groceries with ALL kids in tow, that's how. I'm amazed I remembered all of them, let alone any grocery items.

Milk is very important though, in The Mommy's household. Milk is what makes the baby go down for his nap.

No milk = no nap.

No brain = no milk.

Furthermore,

No one to watch children = no nipping out to the store.

In summation,

No nap.

No break.

No hope.

No thank you.

That's IT. I've HAD IT.

My last fuse if officially blown. The final straw has broken this camel's back.

I. Can't. Take it. Anymore.

The children have won. There is just too many of them, I'm outnumbered. Every time I turn around there is something fresh to clean/fix/pick up/wash/throw out. My life is a constant dance of a half step forward, half dozen steps back. Just today I finally hung the shelving over Finn's change table so I can organize his diaper items. While I was doing that, someone short and female (I haven't identified which, just yet) scribbled on the wall outside his door. So now I have to go scrub a wall. All the towels are laundered, folded, and put away. But inexplicably the linen closet now smells like a nail salon.

I'm reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope. I hate doing everything by myself. I can do it, and it's not so much difficult as it is constant, but I am just so tired of doing it. Do you know the the Golden Gate Bridge is always being painted? It takes so long to paint the whole thing, that by the time they are finished, the side they started on needs painting again. That's what my life is like. Individual things occasionally get done (barring constant interruptions, and usually to musical accompaniment of "Mommy? Mama? Mom mom? Mom? Mummy? Ma? Ma? Ma? Mama? Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamama?") but everything NEVER gets done. All I want is to sit down after the kids go to bed, with a cup of tea and this stupid cat that won't leave me alone, light some candles, and look around at a clean, pretty house.

Honey, sweetie, husband of mine - I fully support your military career and the need it creates for you to be away just now. But it freaking SUCKS.

TAB. The click of death.

I'm just going to come right out and say it. I am an indenter. I like to indent. I first got addicted in high school, and am now forced to leave my favorite five-space mark smattered sporadically throughout everything I write.

However.

The newer-fangled technology around here does not share my predilection for paragraph preposition. I used to be able to hit "tab" and - voila! - have my cursor blinky thing magically placed in the correct position to begin my paragraph. Now, notsomuch. Now when I click tab, my blinky thingy goes... Somewhere. Sometimes it makes my e-mail not go to just my darling husband, but instead to my entire e-mail address book (Sorry. You might want to... Umm... Not open that one. FYI. Thx.) Sometimes it auto-posts my amazingly clever nothingness, leaving some of you apparently scratching your heads and emailing me because the title of the post means nothing and you think I've left you out of something interesting. I haven't, but thanks for reading the entire blog to make sure. :) Sometimes that n'ere do well tab key causes the blinky thing to just disappear altogether. That's fun. I hope it goes somewhere warm on it's vacations.

Isn't this fun? This is the least entertaining post ever. At least I still know where my blinkie thing is. I wonder if it has an official name, like the little plastic dealies on the ends of your shoelaces that nobody knows what they're called. Or most of the junk under the hood of my car.

I digress.

I like to indent, and my computer won't let me. Yes, I realize that I could just MANUALLY hit the space bar five times every time I wanted an indent, and that would achieve the same result - but if you haven't figured out by now that I am far, far too lazy to do that... Well, then you haven't been paying close enough attention. I'd really rather just complain to all of you about it.

GYM: Day 4

Things I've learned thus far at the gym:

1. No, you can NOT claim you "went to the gym" if all you did was go there to sit in the hottub. They won't let me count that on my attendance card. Damn.
2. There is NO WAY TO CHEAT when you have a shadow personal trainer. He'll make you do every last one of those crunches.
3. Elliptical machines are mean. They hate me personally.
4. I have more weight to lose than I thought I did. *pout*. According to my BMI, height/weight/age/blah blah blah, I should lose aproximately 15lbs. Or I can gain 45lbs of muscle, whichever I'd prefer. I'd like to choose secret option C, buy bigger pants and pretend I've lost the weight. Then eat bon-bons.
5. I don't know the technical names of ANY of my own muscles. Luckily, my trainer guy speaks "girl". "The thing next to my other thing" is my quadracep. In other circles, it's my fanbelt. Okie.
6. A few of the machines do not have petite enough settings for someone of my stature. They require assistance. Like sitting on a phonebook. Or a booster seat. I am too wee for the gym.
7. When the dietician lady suggests I sprinkle some nuts on my morning oatmeal for a shot of protein, no - she does not mean I can substitute brown sugar and full-fat creamer.
8. You have two options: Hang your shower towel on a hook that's far away from the shower and walk naked back and forth, or take your towel into the stall with you and negate the purpose of having said towel in the first place. 8b. Big-ass shower towels are heavy when wet, and will aggravate tired, just-worked muscles.
9. There is no known cure for a flat butt. Thanks mom.
10. The people who work at the gym have all met Finnigan. They all know I'm just there to shower in peace.

Time well utilized.

Today I spent an hour cleaning Finnigan's room. Somebody had decided the room had diaper rash and thus needed to be thoroughly powdered. It looked like a flour factory had exploded in a snow storm. Fun times.

Furthermore, why oh WHY can't the one year old can't manage to sort his toys into the appropriate bins? Cars, wooden blocks, plush, construction set, duplo, and misc. How hard is that?

Lol. Ok, so he's one. But in June he'll be two. Then he'd better learn.

;)

What's that buzzing sound?

Because I'm new to they gym, I'm still under "evaluation". At this point, that means that I have to use a heart-rate monitor to see what kind of condition my ticker is in.

Today my resting heart-rate was 143bpm. During my work out it levels out at about 188bpm. For my age and fitness level, it's supposed to top out at 130bpm.

This almost gave my trainer a heart attack.

Hehehehehe.

So I, of course, had to mess with him. I hopped onto the elliptical machine and told him I was going to try to break 200bpm. I got to 204bpm (talking and joking the whole time, not even breathing hard) before he made me get off and sit down.

He's submitting a requisition that the recently-recaliberated machines be tested again. Even though they seem to be reading accurately for everyone else.

I told him it must be reading my IQ instead of my heart-rate.

My new gym nickname? Hummingbird.

Finnigan says:

"Mama cawl... Dada?" as he hands me my phone.

How CUTE is that?!?

(He's also learned to tap his finger on his cheek if he wants a kiss there. He's so cute I might die.)

The Mommy is sick

And The Kids are NOT. This is not good. My kids are phsychotic. I barely have enough energy to keep up with them when I'm healthy, let alone when my throat hurts, my ear canals are swollen, and my lungs are full of something that won't come out. Ew. All I want is someone to tuck me in and bring me some hot tea. Instead I have to clean the kitchen and pack the kids' bags for tomorrow. I can barely make it off the couch.

I never get sick.

Unless The Daddy is deployed.

Lily says:

This all happened while I was driving, so my objective was to shush her as quickly as possible. As you can tell, I failed.

Lily: Mommy, my tummy hurts when I do *this* (bends sideways)

Mommy: You probably just have an air bubble or something baby.

L: What's that?

M: Well, it's a bubble... Made of air.

L: What's inside it?

M ...*facepalm*...

L: ???

M: ...Air?

Rachel says:

(Upon learning - to her dissapointment - that we were having a baked ham for dinner):

"Mom, weeeee don't even LIKE ham! We can't even RESIST it!"

Pictures, round 5

Please don't eat my children:

Funny-looking flat palms:

Then some fluffy palms:

The infamous MerLion:

I've got lots more to show you all, but I am so beyond bored with myself. I have the attention span of a gnat.

Pictures, round 4

Doesn't this picture look like a postcard? I have mad skillz.

Lillian looked at the creature. The creature looked back:

Some interesting lighting:

I have no idea what these are, but aren't they neat?

Pictures, round 3

They sure clean up well...

Considering how they wake up looking: (She's definitly got my hair)

Pictures, round 2

It's Christmas!

The Daddy:

The Baby:

This just made me giggle. Grass growing on the parking stalls. I'm so North American.

Pics, round 1

Sunset (rise?) over Tokyo airport. My internal clock was thoroughly screwed up by this point:

The kids in front of one of many fountains in Singapore:


The view from the living room balcony:

Singapore at night:

Sweet, no???

Ok, so...

• We're moved.
• We went to Singapore, then came back.
• DH is gone on training leaving me here with the kids. Jerk.
• The kids got into the private school, and their uniforms are sooooo cute! (Pics to follow)
• I joined a gym. I even went. Twice.
• I finally got off my lazy butt and got internet service. I got bored just sitting here staring at my laptop, and I was always thinking of crap I wanted to blog about. Now I'm drawing a total blank - hence the bullet points.
• I have a great big kitchen that I LOVE. I have a little bitty bathroom that I HATE.
• Garbage pickup is only every other week. That is stupid. It should be every other day.
• Daytime TV sucks.
• I'm so happy to be back! I'm going to binge on BBC, I feel like I've lost touch with all my friends. Sad.

Dear Husband:

I have commandeered all the t-shirts you left behind to use as nightwear, and there's nothing you can do about it.

I'm here! I'm alive! I miss you all!

Ok, so I'm still alive, I've just been a baaaad little blogger.  We went to Singapore, we moved, the girls started school, Finn got his first haircut, we got a cat (we named him Kronk) I love my new house, and I promise to tell you all about ALL of that and show you pictures as soon as I get the internet hooked up in my new place.

I'll be back soon I promise!  Thank you too all of my lovely followers for not abandoning me.  :)

Muah.

The Mommy

My whole life, consolidated for easy transport

Status Report

Front Entry: Nearly untouched.
Living Room: Packed
Dining Room: Packed
Kitchen: Packed
Master Bedroom: Packed
Finn's Room: Half Packed
Girls' Room: I don't want to talk about it.
Bathroom: Tonight's project.
Storage Room: I may just abandon this for the next tenant.
Laundry Mountain: Dented.

I. HATE. PACKING.

That is all.

Single mom to... Single mom

So we'll be moving soon to the house on base to be with Andrew. Then we'll all be going away for three and a half weeks, then we'll get back and have to unpack. Following that, Andrew will be being sent to Edmonton for months of training to go ON TOUR.

Then he's off to Afganistan for seven and a half months.

We'll finally have the same address and yet somehow be even further apart.

Murphey, you and your law both SUCK.

School news!

The head of the school we got Lily into (private Cathedral school, remember?) just emailed me, one of the grade 1 families will not be returning after Christmas, which opens up the spot for Rachel! WOO HOO! No two schools!

Life just got marginally easier.

Updates

I'm sick and way busy, so here are all the latest updates, in totally awesome bullet-point form:

• We got a house on base! Four bedrooms! We take possession NEXT WEEK (Dec. 8th)!!!
• I messed up my back and am having difficulty even lifting Finnigan or getting out of bed. Luckily, I now get to pack an entire house by myself. That should help. Not.
• I am bird sitting my brother's fiance's parrot. His name is Eli. He is a shameless flirt, and squawks his little bird brains out unless I am patting him, and giving him kisses, and paying attention to him. He is going to go home in a few days having learned a new phrase - "SHUT UP, BIRD!"
• The kids (all three) spent a day and a night at Gramma's house while Mommy, daddy, and uncle Bear and auntie Leslie went on a double date. It was the first time the baby had spent the night away from his momma, and he didn't even miss me. Rotten little snot head. He's lucky he's cute.
• My husband got a craving for popcorn last night, and instead of using the popcorn maker in the cupboard, he drove 20 mins EACH WAY to the most local theater and bought movie theater popcorn for dollars on the penny. Thus, he doesn't bat an eyelash over my 11pm cravings for dim sum, candy apples, and goldfish crackers. "Indulgent" is his middle name!
• Finnigan is obsessed with picking the smallest little bits of things up and handing them to me. The other day he decided that the freckles on my arm were one of these such things, and spent at least a half an hour trying to pinch and pick them off to give them to me. Simple things...

Wake. SHOVE. Sleep. Repeat.

Lily has been all kinds of freak-o lately, so I have been attempting to give her more Lily-Mommy time. My latest uber-genius plan was to let her spend the night in my bed.

That was dumb.

I have a queen sized bed, usually all to myself. Sharing it with my 6'2", 200lb husband is cake. Sharing it with my 4'2", 40lb daughter made me want to go crawl into her bed. I honestly do not understand how someone so small can take up SO. MUCH. SPACE. She slept like a starfish, all flung out to all corners and also, she snores.

Laly is a bed hog. And a cover hog. And a pillow hog.

My night went like this: Fall asleep on my side of the bed. Wake up an hour later with a hand/foot/bare bottom in my face. Straighten her out, SHOVE her back over to her side, roll over and go back to sleep. Fall asleep, wake up an hour later with a kneecap/elbow, or head jabbing me in the chest. Straighten her out, SHOVE her back over to her side, roll over and try to go back to sleep. Rince, repeat. I got no sleep. Now I'm tired, cranky, and I have a kink in my neck.

And she's back in my bed tonight. Sigh. Maybe I'll sleep here on the couch...

On the upside, both girls went to sleep without a peep! They definitly need their own rooms when we move. Good thing I bought them a damn bunkbed. Sheesh.

Krista and Daryl - My Christmas Cause

This is KRISTA. She is married to Daryl, and the two of them are the most loving, caring, wonderful couple I know, and I am so blessed to call them friends. They want nothing more this Christmas than a little baby to call their own.

There is no calling more pure than the call to be a parent. This amazing family has endured three painful miscarriages and years of infertility. They've got their angel babies up in heaven, but that does little to ease the ache of empty arms. They have so much love to give, let's help them get someone to give it to!

Now I may not have much, but I have this blog, and I have a simple request. Instead of donating to a nameless, faceless cause this year, please consider helping to change the lives of two very real, very deserving people. This is a goal we CAN reach, and I won't let up until we do.

100% of donations go towards paying for fertility treatments/surrogacy costs/adoption costs. We have zero operating costs, no salaries to pay, and no penny will wasted! We're just a network of people trying to make a difference. Please be a part of that!

Here's how to help: Locate the "Donate" button on my sidebar. Click that and follow instructions! Easy as pie. That money will be put into Krista and Daryl's secure account, and used solely in their pursuit to become loving parents to some lucky baby - whatever it takes.

If you can't do anything else, please visit her blog and send them some warm wishes. This means so much to them.

This Christmas, you can change lives. That's better than anything you could put under a tree.

Vote with Mii!

For Chelsie!!! Classymommy.com is giving away a Wii, and my friend Chelsie is being the Best Wife Ever and trying to win it for her hubby who is deployed. Is that not the sweetest thing?!? He's got no idea...

C'mon guys, show some love - it takes 5 seconds.

Go HERE - and vote Chelsie Butts!

"Wii" love you Chelsie!

Lily is a mvestor*

*Title and spelling/punctuation are as they appear in the book she wrote today. Definitions are provided following each paragraph)

Lily is a mvestor
(Lily is a movie star)

By Lillian

Oumbaua littl gur ous sad.
(One day a little girl was sad.)

intelourn bau se be ckama a mve stor
(Until one day she became a movie star.)

a se wus faumic
(And she was famous.)

The End.

The entire thing was written with a purple hilighter, so the transcription is as close as I can get it. I had her read it to me again to be sure of the translation though, so that much is accurate.

This girl's got aspirations!

I hope he's got an absorbant codpiece

When Finnigan gives one of his "speeches", sometimes a real word pops out among all the gibberish. Today he was babbling on and on while I changed his diaper, and the following converstation ensued:

Finnigan: Blah blah gooblety bliggery ba-ba-ba-dansk shoogle blah...

Me: Finnigan! Who's got a wet little tushie?

Finnigan : BATMAN!!! Blorgolgrshk manmeeee...

I lol'd.

Not... Necessarily

I was at the mall the other day, and stopped at New York Fries (poutine addiction). Their latest ad campaign is a picture of their classic big ol' tub of fries, with the following slogan emblazoned across it:

"Only contains ingredients people can spell"

Ok, not terribly funny in and of itself, but I can practically hear the giggling from the three people in this world who would understand why I laughed so hard I choked on a fry. (In fact, I laughed so hard that Finnigan initially laughed along, but then he began to look concerned and offered me a slobbery, flat, half chewed fry of his own...)

See, my mom can't spell. Like really can't spell. Once upon a time, she made up a grocery list and wanted my dad to buy a Sweet Potato. However, what she wrote down was Sweat Pototoe. That quickly became a running joke at our house. THEN she sent my brother and I to the store to buy one of those long skinny crusty breads. She wanted, and I quote, a "B-a-9-*" (at least, as near as we could decipher). We ended up having to call her and ask if she wanted a baguette or a bagel. We were practically rolling on the floor with glee at this point.

To this day, Bear and I will ask eachother if we want some B-A-nine-asterisk with dinner, or leave it written down on scraps of paper somewhere in the house.

I wished I had a sharpie. And a camera.

"Only contains ingredients most people can spell." But not you, mom.

FEBCAK: Finnigan Exists Between Couch And Keyboard

Andrew and I chat on MSN every day, and I frequently leave the window open even when I'm away from the computer. This evening, after I had put the kids to bed for the night, I sat down at my computer to find the following conversation had taken place: ***(Please note that Andrew's MSN icon is a picture of him, and mine is set to a picture of Finn.)


Kira says (7:54 PM):
]\

Kira says (7:54 PM):
\\

Andrew says (7:54 PM):
hello finn

Kira says (7:54 PM):
2103e

Kira says (7:55 PM):
.

Andrew says (7:59 PM):
:)

Kira says (7:59 PM):
;;;;;;;;;8 \]';/

Andrew says (8:01 PM):
love you too buddy

~~

Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen??!? He wanted to talk to his daddy! Awwww, that's so sweet I just want to go get him out of his crib and kiss him all over his little self.

Look what I found!

The girls and I were walking home from the grocery store today, and came across this, all abandoned and forlorn looking:

Cool, no? I'm not sure what to do with it, but I like it. It could be a magazine rack:
(I have too many magazines, apparently)



Or it could be a towel holder thingy:
(You can never have too many towels)



Lillian suggested I use it to hold all my purses:
(No wonder I can never find my lipstick!)

Thoughts? Suggestions? Envy? ;)

He's so pretty

Yes, they're his sisters'. I've caught him wearing them at least a half a dozen times today. He loves them.

Should I be concerned that he's obsessed with pink faux fur?

Poetry for short attention spans

Lillian: Mommy, I wrote you a poem!

Me: Thanks Lily! Let's hear it.

L: "Mommy. You."

Me: *Waiting expectantly*

L: That's it mommy.

M: Oh. It's lovely!

She's learning so much in Sunday School

Lillian: Mommy, who's birthday is it on Christmas again?

Me: Ummm... Jesus?

Lillian: Yeah.

Me: Ok then.

Best money I ever spent

Today I paid Rachel a twoonie to clean a full double sink's worth of dishes, and I paid Lillian a twoonie to fold what amounted to three loads of Finnigan's laundry. Finnigan is wiping down the placemats for free, on the condition that he gets to eat whatever particles he picks off of them.

Earlier, the girls sorted the overflowing laundry hamper from the bathroom into four loads.

I'm sitting on the couch blogging, because I'm just beat from all the chores "I'm" doing.

I knew I had kids for a reason.

I'm going to Hell

I'm watching a show about a 600lb woman.

While I eat cheesecake.

Oh yeah, Karma's gonna spank me for sure.

Teachin' him young

Today I like Finnigan best.

I'm a lucky girl

Why, you ask? Because my hubby bought me a pipe wrench. Thrilling, no?

To be fair, it was used to install the new washer and dryer he bought me. I found them on Craigs List, brand new set, $200 for the pair!!! Whirlpool! Side-by-side! Extra-Large Capacity!!! They still have the protective plastic on them! The previous owners bought them and then when they moved into their new house they realised that, oops, what they needed was the stacked washer/dryer combo. Good for me. :)

That'll teach me to be uprepared

Today the baby snorked a giant booger on me outside in public. I didn't have any tissues, so I was forced to wipe the enormous snot planet on the bottom of my shoe.

I hope nobody noticed.

Word Quotas

I've often thought that people have a set amount of words they have to get out each day. These "Word Quotas" compel us to make small talk, call people just to say hello, and engage in any conversation about the weather. Normal people have a daily word quota of about 5000. My brother Bear has a word quota of about 6, if you include grunts. My other brother Mike has a word quota of just over 4 billion. Being around him is like spending time under florescent lighting. It drains all your energy, gives you a migraine, and you're left with a dull buzzing in your ears that lasts for days.

Rachel's word quota defies math. Somewhere there is a number high enough to account for all the words she crams into one day, but it has yet to be named. Never mind getting a word in edgewise, good luck getting a word in if she's concious. Nay, good luck if she's breathing. She talks when she's awake. She talks in her sleep. She talks in class. She talks when there's nobody there to talk to. She talks to strangers. She talks about strangers. She talks to strangers like she's their long lost friend, and she needs to catch them up on everything that has happened since her birth. She sings in the shower. She'll carry on both sides of a conversation. She's talking right now, and I put her in bed an hour ago.

The Daddy got her a toy phone for her birthday. I think The Daddy hates me. She ran the batteries dead in two days. Never mind saving for college, I'm saving for her first phone bill.

All I want for Christmas is a good set of earplugs.

I'm wearing my poppy...

...on my hat, because when I had it on my lapel I kept stabbing the baby with it. I'm still wearing it, so quit lookin' at me like that.

Boys are weird

Today in the bathtub, Finnigan found his buttcrack. He was fascinated.

It was pretty funny watching him spin around and around in the tub trying to look at his own backside.

I don't know why I even bother putting bath toys in the tub with him. His own body is obviously much more fun to play with!

I don't care

I'm breaking out the Christmas movies. Nothing lifts my spirits like Chevy Chase in National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

Somebody send me some good Christmas music, the CD's I have suck glittery tree balls.

The Story of Us: Abridged Version

*This is for you, Stacy ;)*

Andrew and I met just after I turned 17, while living in Ontario. We were at a party thrown by a mutual friend, and he asked me for a kiss. In turn, I gave him shit for being so cocky when, and I quote, "You don't even know my last name!". This is now a running joke.

He moved in with me to the top floor of my parents house some four months later. Anything to get out of the military barracks, right dear?

Then came the posting to Edmonton. He had to leave. I didn't want him to go, and he didn't want to leave me. He decided he was going to quit the military and find work as a mechanic nearby. I gave him shit again, and suggested that instead I just come to Edmonton with him. My mom gave us both shit. We went anyway.

I got pregnant with Lillian shortly thereafter. Fourteen and a half months after she was born, I had Rachel. **Side note: Finn is 17 months old. I can't IMAGINE having him and a newborn!!!

When Rachel was four months old, we finally got married. Our wedding day was three days before my 20th birthday. Andrew likes to tell people that on his honeymoon, he slept with a 19 year old AND a 20 year old. I give him shit for that. He's mouthy that way. ;)

At some point he went on tour with the military to Afghanistan. :(

After we'd been married a few years, things kind of hit the skids. A lot of small issues led to a lot of big issues, which led to us separating and me moving with the girls to B.C. to be near my family. We lived in "Transitional Housing" for a while, which is kind of like a women's shelter but nicer. Picture living with your wealthy aunt, and a half-dozen female cousins with their children. We had a great house, chores, and locks on our bedroom doors. We lived there for about two months, and then got a place nearby in subsidized housing. That's the three-bedroom apartment we're in now. My rent is based off my income. Technically, with no income, I don't qualify to be here - so my landlord fudged the documents and said that I'm receiving Unemployment when I'm not. I already gave him verbal notice that I'm moving, so it's not going to be forever.

Andrew decided fairly quickly that whatever problems we had we could work through and be a family again. I don't know what I was thinking. I'd gone from my parents house right into my boyfriends house, and now I was on my own for the first time ever. I decorated the way I wanted to decorate, I watched what I wanted to watch on TV, I made all my own financial decisions, I got a job, went to school, and took care of the kids. I dated.

I dated a guy from work who is fourteen years my senior. I'd like to say I regret it, but I can't totally regret it, because he gave me Finnigan. In the end, all the things that had attracted me o him turned out to be... Not real. I'd been seeing something that wasn't really there. I couldn't stand his kids, and he struggled to get along with mine. He turned out to be a loser who is now renting a room in his brother's house, because even though he's had the same damn job for the last 12 years, he can't seem to manage to get his own apartment. He had no backbone, and eventually lost his lustre. I left him, and kept the pregnancy.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that what I really wanted was what had been there all along. When I'd found out I was pregnant, I couldn't imagine going through it with anyone but Andrew. He'd always, ALWAYS been there for me, and I feared that by the time I finally came around he'd have washed his hands of me for good. We went back and forth through most of the pregnancy, with Kevin (Finn's sperm donor) popping in and out of my life. It all came to a head around the time Finn was born, when Andrew told me he had a girlfriend, and he wanted her to meet MY kids. (Yes, I was irrational, OK?). I came unglued. Told him no way, no how, if he brought that slut (see? irrational) here we'd be gone and I'll see you in court thankyouverymuch.

Then it hit me. Uhhh, maybe I'm doing all this because *I* still love Andrew! It was like I always thought he'd be there, waiting in the wings, and that's what gave me the strength to move on and make my way in the world. I never thought he wouldn't be there, and I counted on him more than I realized. He was my rock, and I took him for granted. I gave me shit for that. Then I called him. I confessed everything. I begged forgiveness. I cried, and pleaded, and told him I loved him and that I was stupid. Queen Supreme Stupid in the land of Stupid People. He told me it might be too late. I died inside. He said he couldn't risk his heart again if I wasn't in it for life this time. I thought long and hard about that. I decided I was in it for life and set about convincing him.

Andrew's parents planned a trip to Disney world the August after Finn was born. Andrew was still living in Edmonton at the time, and his parents live overseas. They flew through here, picked up the girls, and left. The next day, Andrew flew me out with the baby. If we're going to try to be a family, we have to actually spend time together. So we did.

We've been putting our lives back together ever since. Andrew took a posting out to this province, the nearby base fell through so he got stuck on the island. We spend whatever time we can together, we've vowed to make it work. We are making it work. Step by step, we're putting the pieces back together. Undo the paperwork (we never filed an official separation, but we're separated as far as the military is concerned) get a house on base (we won't all fit in his bachelor pad!) and move allll our shit. I hate packing. I hate moving. But I love Andrew.

The girls are ecstatic, and Finn has never known any other daddy. Andrew loves that little boy to bits, and totally, completely, 100% accepts him as his own. Weirdly enough, Finn is the only child who has blue eyes like Andrew. We both giggle whenever a stranger says how much he looks like his daddy. (Kevin has dark brown eyes, mine are green.) We're going to renew our vows eventually.

So that's pretty much that. We've committed to making this work, we've been "back together" for more than a year now successfully after about two years apart. We talked a LOT, and we're learning and growing together as a couple and as a family. Truly, our relationship has never been better. I love this man, and I love our family, and sometimes taking a break can be the best thing for a relationship. Now we know what we have, and we'll fight tooth and nail to keep it.

:)

Re: My last post

I know the money thing is not going to be a problem forever, I will eventually get a new job and DH and I will live together - therefor not have to support two seperate households, we'll have two incomes and half the bills... It just sucks right now. There's no real point in me getting a job right now, because we leave for Singapore in a month and we'll be there for three weeks. Sometime before then, I have to move to the island. That means I'll be packing up the entire house. By myself. Even if I were able to find a temp job in the meantime, I'd have to set up daycare all over again someplace new, and start all over again applying for daycare subsidy. By the time I was finished the paperwork, it'd be time to say goodbye.

Sigh. I'll pay my rent, and I'll call the electic company on Monday. Other than that... Who knows? I don't know. I wish I knew. I'm fresh out of ideas.

P.S. I don't qualify for welfare because Andrew actually pays child support. Too bad so sad for us.

$TRE$$

I am beyond broke. I mean sickeningly broke. Allow me to enlighten you.

1. I signed up for the Food Bank. I've been twice this week. I got a lot of canned goods, then realized I don't own a damn canopener.
2. I'm about $1000 short this month. I'm due to be cut off from my cable/internet, phone, AND power unless I pay it all by the end of this week. I'm going to call on Monday and cancel the cable/internet and pare my phone down to a basic plan, but that doesn't help what I already owe. Apparently, yes they CAN shut my power off with winter coming.
3. All three kids need winter coats. The girls are wearing MY sweaters under their spring coats because baby, it's getting cold. Finn is wearing a fleece sweater I got him last year at a second-hand store under his raincoat, and no mittens. None of them have winter boots.
4. Gas. It's coming down, but until it's free, we're doing a lot of walking. In the cold. In the rain. I'm not a bloody postman.
5. I don't have prescription coverage, and the pills I'm on for Post Partum Depression are not cheap. Even the generic version. You don't want me unmedicated. I'm useless.
6. I closed my credit card accounts (2), but they're going to collections because I can't make the minimum payments. I owe about $2500 total for both.
7. I survive off the child support my husband sends. $1000/month. Rent is more than half that. Finn's bio dad has dropped off the face of the earth.
8. Car Insurance. Tenancy Insurance. Need I say more?
9. The BumGenius cloth diaper people are going to replace Finn's defective diapers. I can't afford the postage to send the defective ones to Ontario to be replaced.
10. I haven't been shopping in, like, forever. I know that's trivial and stupid, and low on my list of priorities, but it makes me sad. I miss my beloved shopping.
11. I went to see a financial planner. You know what she said? I've got more expenses than income, and that I needed more income. Gee, why didn't I think of that? She gets the Useless Advice of the Day Award.
12. I'm selling stuff I have that I don't want/need, but the market for Crap & Clutter is only so big, and is slow as shit.

Bleh. I don't even have any real vices to indulge in. I don't drink, or smoke, or do drugs. I don't even particularly care for chocolate.

Oh yeah, and the baby has a cold so he's clingy and miserable and full of snot.

Tomorrow is another day. I can scarcely wait.

Creepy to the extreme

I'm watching Love It or List It right now on W network.

The wife's name is Kira.

The husband's name is Andrew.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.

FTR, these people are NOT US. They are much better looking, and have more money. These are the people we only wish we were. ;)