Adulting

All week I've been anxiously waiting for an important phone call. Each afternoon, I come home from work, dropping my stuff at the door and racing through the house with my boots and coat still on calmly and nonchalantly checking to see if there is a message. They said they'd call possibly on Tuesday, but more likely, it would be Wednesday, so when Wednesday arrived, and there wasn't any message, I started losing my ever-loving mind to worry that something was wrong. I panicked and started freaking out assuming the worst case scenario calmly waited until the next day, and then finally asked my other half to call about it. He did, but was told they had nothing for him yet. Of course they didn't. Or else they would have called, right? I was starting to build some disappoint and sadness - I just wanted that damn phone call.

Then yesterday, as I was finishing my day at work and getting my coat on, my Other Half texts to tell me that there is a message. They had FINALLY called. It's good news....

My area rug for the dining room has arrived and is ready for pick up.

I was so excited, I'm sure that I floated to the car, and it took everything I had to go home (instead of driving straight there) and get my Other Half so we could race drive responsibly to the city to pick it up.

For real. I was all excited and worked up about a rug. An 11x9 foot rug we picked out to go under our dining room table (because the tile is chilly on my toes). I had a similar experience just before the holidays when we had a water softener installed, and a few months before when we had our wood fireplace removed and replaced with a gas insert. And of course, when we were moving into this house, I was beyond excited about moving into our new space, but was crazy elated over the beautiful appliances I was getting with my new kitchen, and was devastated somewhat disappointed and fretting over the washer and dryer (they were older, and seemingly not as good as what I was leaving behind at the old house). When did this happen? When did I become *THAT* person who gets excited over appliances, water softeners, fireplaces and area rugs? When did I start 'adulting'?

These thoughts hit me like tidal wave as I sat in the vehicle waiting for my Other Half and the rug guy to carry and load the rug in. In our van. Our practical, people-moving mini-van. The van that is equipped with wetnaps, kleenex, a first-aid kit, a GPS (gasp!), and any other possible thing a family might need while on the road. That's about as adult as you get, isn't it? There is a single spiderman ornament hanging from the mirror. It's my Other Half's (he is the primary driver of the van). When I drive it, that dangling toy annoys the ever-loving hell out of me. He loves it. See? Even he still holds some 'kid-like' attributes. I realize that a bit of maturing and such occurred when I had children, bought houses, got married, had jobs, etc, but I was still a fun-loving, kid, right?

Wrong. So very, very, VERY wrong. Suddenly, I'm sitting in the year 2016 facing my 43rd birthday down the barrel (How the hell did THAT happen?!). One of my kids is in her 2nd year of university; another is about to officially become a teenager; and my baby has become an independent, dance-loving 6th grader; I get excited about appliances, water softeners, fireplaces and area rugs; I love my job and like going to work; I take pride in maintaining my house; I pay my bills; I own a van; I buy crazy things like spinach, whole wheat bread, and broccoli (and I ask that my kids eat it!); We eat meals together as a family at the table; I remind my kids time and time again that donuts or Hallowe'en candy is NOT a meal; and I parent. I nag them; I help with homework; I buy them clothes when they outgrow them; I help them handle their medical problems (and balance their medications; I take them to appointments, clinics, I keep track of headaches, asthma attacks, foods and weights; I help them through their heartaches and school yard kafuffles; I host birthday parties, sleepovers, playdates and school projects; and I chauffeur them all over God's great creation. And I worry about them. And I worry about my parents. And I worry about my Other Half's parents. I'm very aware of my own mortality. I care about the future and take steps to ensure that my children aren't supporting me (well, maybe this is a bit of a lie...after paying for their education and activities, I think they should pay for at least part of my retirement, right?).

And that right there, my friends, is adulting.

By all intents and purposes, I'm an adult! I've trained my whole life preparing for this, and BAM - it's just here. It's happening. I guess it just kind of snuck up on me. I don't think it just 'happened' overnight, but I don't remember it happening as I've gone along - but regardless, it DID. I am not a care-free kid anymore, but rather a responsible, contributing adult. OK, I admit, that might be pushing the envelope just a wee bit. I suppose I should just embrace it, right?! Maybe I shouldn't get so many ruffled feathers when some young punk calls me "ma'am" when we're out and about, huh? So while you all now reflect on your own "adult" position, I'm going to admire my new area rug (which I might add, looks absolutely fantastic in my dining room) and contemplate what colours I we want to paint in there (and other rooms in this house), what we're going to have for dinner, and when I need to deliver Banshee to her dance practice; you know, adult things.

The Post-Christmas Return to School

Today we got our van back and the hormone surges and mood swings in this house have been returned to normal we had to return Teen back to school. We've been counting down the days known that we were going to have to return her since the day we picked her up more than 2 weeks ago, but then last week we realized that 1 of us would have to stay home because Banshee had a birthday party to attend and asking her to miss it would be like asking her to give up her first born child. I drew the short straw offered to take her because my Other Half doesn't necessarily enjoy long drives like that.

We offered to drive another girl back that lives in our old 'hood (who goes to the same school) back, but she's got a car now and was driving herself. Initially she offered to drive Teen back with her - TOMORROW (as in Monday), but that wouldn't fly because my ultra-studious and conscientious student has an 8:00am class tomorrow - and I know that she would never, ever miss a class - especially 8:00am classes. Then, at 1:30am today, Teen got a text from this gal offering to take her today, leaving around noon. I was ecstatic - I mean, I know I'd be missing out on driving almost 7 hours round trip, and the cost of the gas, and the tolls, the traffic...but I was thrilled at the prospect of lounging around all day doing nothing - you know, the nothing like laundry, vacuuming, dishes, grocery shopping, dusting.

Then, at 7:00am when I dragged my sorry arse out of bed, I started to think about it. A LOT. Damn thinking always gets me into trouble. Teen, much like her mother, doesn't pack or travel lightly. Seriously - I think she brought everything she owns home except for the furniture. For real - I'm sure that every article of clothing she owns came home - because you know, you never know when you'll need tank tops, bikini's and sundresses in the middle of winter in the frozen Tundra. Also, she was ridiculously spoiled had a couple of Christmas gifts to bring back with her too, along with a shit-ton of clothes that she bought on Boxing Day because you know, keeping those Christmas gift cards and money in her purse for a couple of months until she actually NEEDED something would be blasphemy towards all shopaholics a few things she picked up on Boxing Day. When I mentioned this to my Other Half, he blew it all off saying that "it would be fine". Because I'm female Being the Mom, I just knew he was COMPLETELY wrong I wasn't so convinced. Finally, we went and woke Teen asking what kind of car this girl had and if she was going to have space for Teen's stuff. They talked back and forth and they were "pretty sure" it would fit. Loosely translated into Momanese, that means there's no way in hell it was going to fit. Turns out this gal drives a Toyota Echo. I knew FOR SURE it wouldn't fit, I mean, Teen had her room jam-packed with all her stuff, and that wasn't including all the groceries that she needed (let me add that for a skinny little gal that doesn't eat much of anything, that bugger cost me a bloody fortune on groceries today - WOW!! Funny how when Mom is footing the bill, cost is no issue!). SO...my bubble was burst, and I announced that I was going to drive her back.

And I did.

We loaded all her stuff into the van. It was ridiculous. SO. MUCH. STUFF. Then we went to the grocery store. The van was PACKED. Honest to God, I don't travel light, but this kid brings it to a whole new level. WOW. Along the way, we passed a couple of Echo's on the road. I laughed right out loud and would look in the rearview mirror knowing that there was no way in hell her stuff would have fit into that car. Not a ding-dong-diddly chance in hell. I'm not sure where her head was when she even thought for a second that it "might possibly" fit. Our van has HUGE amounts of space for "stuff", and there wasn't much room left - in fact I was glad that we weren't responsible for driving the other gal back because aside from riding on the roof, I don't know how we'd have fit her in.

I actually don't mind the drive - it gives us time to argue about everything chit-chat, and reconnect without her little sister right there nosing her way into things. It gives ME time to nose or pry into everything in her life. The drive itself there (and back) was uneventful. We made a few stops along the way (you know, spending money and all). Everything was great. We pulled into the parking lot at her apartment and quickly determined that there were very few people there (the parking lot was pretty much bare). I figured we would get stuff into her apartment lickety-split without having to share the elevator. Score!!! In the past, we've had to painfully wait for the elevator, so the prospect of having it all to ourselves to bring everything in was REALLY exciting.

And I was right. So fricken-fracken right. We definitely didn't have to share the elevator. In fact we couldn't use the elevator. At all. That mother-trucker was down. Broken. Totally powered off. Completely and utterly unuseable.

And we had a van FULL of shit to transport into her apartment. With no working elevator.

And she lives on the top floor of her building. On the 5th fucking floor. And we enter on the Lower Level.

And only the 2 of us to carry it all. A whole fucking van load of shit.

Son of a Bitch.

Initially I just wanted to push everything out of the back of the van, wave, and say, "So long, Sucka!", but...my maternal instincts kicked in, and with minimal grumbling, I helped lug her shit up those five fucking floors. I was wheezing, curled up in a ball in a puddle of beer on the landing of the 3rd floor crying and dying, begging someone - ANYONE - to put me out of my misery slightly winded by 4th trip up. Oh. My. Word. I'm SO out of shape. I honestly thought that I was going to die right there in that stairwell. For real. I'm somewhat "Fluffy", so strenuous exercise isn't my forte. I had to work REALLY hard to come back from the light that was beckoning to me, I mean, I don't really want my last breath to be in a stairwell at a student apartment complex, and especially not in front of my kid, so, I got up and finished the job. When it was time to leave, I contemplated just rolling down the stairs, but somehow I made it and didn't totally embarrass Teen. Well, maybe just a bit - I really was wheezing and coughing excessively. And sweating. And crying. And crawling on all fours to the van.

We said our good-byes, I gave her the obligatory, "behave yourself and take care of yourself" Mom speech, then I climbed into the van, handed her all the cash I had, and with that damn Mom-lump in my throat and the tears of joy in my eyes, I waved as I drove off, leaving my baby behind. Again.

Then, I went straight to Tim's got myself a tea, cranked the tunes, and drove myself home. Right into a house where world war 486829457234598 was breaking out between Imp and Banshee. WOW. Watch for those 2 on a future episode of Springer - they fight about EVERYTHING. ALL. OF. THE. TIME.

Now...onward to getting 2 crazy little creatures (and their father) back into the school routine tomorrow, after a 2 week hiatus.

God help me.

Being a Mom is so glamorous and fun ALL of the time.

2015 In Review

Happy New Year! 2016. Holy shit, it's 2016. And we survived we're still here. Remember the fear-mongering crazies who withdrew all their money, and stockpiled food and amenities for the looming apocalypse when the world was going to explode as we entered Y2K? That was some pretty humorous stuff...

Anyway, 2015 was a year full of ups and downs (get your head out of the gutter - I know of about 10 of you that immediately ran the wrong direction with that comment). Thankfully it was mostly ups. The biggest thing for us was moving. Within a 6 week period we saw a house that piqued our interest, so we looked, put an offer in, readied ours for sale, listed it and sold it (within 6 hours of being listed), packed and moved. We love it - and can't believe our luck with it all.

Teen successfully completed her first year of university; got a summer job; turned 19 (She can legally drink now - because she NEVER partook in that sort of thing ever before) and went back to start year 2. This year she's moved out of residence and is living in an awesome apartment with a group of friends. This apartment is a secure building designed exclusively for students located close to the school, so that makes Momma feel better about the off-campus living (not to mention it's cheaper (marginally so) - so that makes Momma's wallet a bit happier, although....she asks for grocery money and such an awful lot, so I think my wallet leaks out the other side a bit). As of Christmas, her year was already 1/2 over...it's crazy how fast time flies!

Imp has had an incredible year! WOW. Amazeballs! First and foremost, his year at school last year was awesome. There were some administrative changes and boom! Everything went smoothly thereafter. I wonder exactly where the problems were...hmmm... Although repeatedly and aggressively pushed advised to pursue college action and discipline towards this individual for his blatant negligence and bullying surrounding our son, we decided that our reward was enough in knowing that this guy is gone and won't ever be in a school setting again to do this to any other children. Anyway, I digress (this seems to often be the case, doesn't it?). In the spring, Imp started a "job" as a jr usher at a local theatre, which was a huge step towards responsibility and independence for him. Then, in the fall, he took a GINORMOUS step and switched schools (same school as Banshee), and a few weeks later, transitioned into our new home remarkably well. All of that was not without difficulty and struggles, but he did it - and we're so very proud of him. His school year is going fantastic, he's playing basketball again this year, and in general everything is good with him (although he misses the kids from the old school). His personality is really flourishing - he's definitely his mother's son. He may physically be his father's clone, but he is all me when it comes to his warped little sense of humour (and I'd like to say his smarts - although I think the smarts is uniquely him - because he is REALLY smart - scary so).

Banshee is fantastic. She torments us as she dances and sings her way through life. It's nothing for her stand up in the middle of a meal and do "the pony" or part of one of her routines, or to break out in shrill singing because the feeling hits her (I have NO idea where the singing thing comes from, I mean it's not like I break out in song ALL the time...I do have limits and such. My poor family...2 of us belting out in song at seemingly random times). She goes to school exclusively for the social part loves school and is doing well. She has learned SO much French in the past year and a half - although she could be making words up and pretending to be speaking impeccable French and we are falling for it hook. She lives and breathes dance. I mean it - it's like an illness. She goes to class and comes out even more excited, pumped and committed than the class before. This year she is doing company, which means I need to pimp myself out to afford it all competitions and a closet full of costumes; a fancy bag to hold said costumes; shoes; makeup; travel & hotels such. Asthma-wise she is doing well. She is still heavily medicated, and we're still on the every 3 month plan for clinic visits, but...she is controlled and doing great. I think we ended up in the ER only 2x this past year for asthma - PHEW! She had her nose cauterized early 2015 and has had few bleeds since (and the ones she's had are short-lived and minor). Her headaches are still frequent (that's another thing she's inherited from her Momma), but we're able to manage them for the most part.

My other half and I are plugging along. Admittedly, we hit some really bumpy terrain last year, however, marriage is all about the good, the bad, the ugly and we're just chalking this up to 'ugly' and are moving on. He's a great guy and I kinda-sorta like him, so I'm hoping we're "stuck" together until the end of time. Our lives basically revolve around the kids. Mostly we're chauffeurs and chaperones (and hosts, and cooks, and maids). I'm still working away at some courses (I think I've brought the meaning of professional student to a whole new level). I had my bladder all fixed up - FINALLY! It was a mess with significant repair required, but, it's all fixed up now (although I'm still being monitored for something which may require a bit more work), SO...you all have to find someone else to make fun of when we get together because I don't pee when I laugh (or cough, or sneeze, or jump) anymore. My other half is still teaching at the same school - you know, the same old, same old. This year sees the closure of the high school in our old town, which means a merger with the school he's at, so there is some unsettled feelings about all that with the unknown, but we're hopeful that it all works out in our favour.

We're looking forward to what 2016 brings us! While I'm not a big fan of NY resolutions, I DO hope to be able to keep up here a little more. I've got tons of stuff in my head that needs to be written, but it's time that seems to get in the way. Happy New Year, everyone!!!!

New Chapter in our lives

Now that we finally have internet (and cable and phone)- yee-freakin'-haw - that was a VERY hard time for our family doing without for nearly 2 weeks are somewhat settled, and I am forced to do nothing due to medical reasons able to rest and relax a bit, it's time to catch up here.

So, back in August, we looked at a house, fell in love with it instantly and KNEW that it was *THE* one for us. We put an offer in, readied and listed ours, sold ours in less than 6 hours (that was the trippiest part of this whole endeavour), packed, and ultimately moved. There's no secret that I didn't love the house we were in. While the space itself was fine - even finer about 2 kids ago, and the location good, it wasn't a good fit for a family of 5. It truly was a house built for 3 (in my opinion). While the neighbours were great - it was a terrific neighbourhood, they were too close. We'd sit to eat dinner at the dining room table and the neighbour would wave from their kitchen window, or, if I was sitting outside on my new deck, I could hear them flush the toilet (among other noises that I'd rather not discuss). AND...we saw FAR more of the one neighbour than anyone should have to see as he entered and exited his hot tub. You'd think I'd learn not to look, but when that damn hot tub was running, it made a noise that forced me to look, EVERY SINGLE TIME, and every single time I saw WAY more than I should have. If I could only bleach that from my brain...

Anyway, as I packed up the house readying for our big move day I questioned whether or not we were in fact crazy for doing this is such a short period of time AND I realized that I don't like the moving process at all, I got more and more excited. I was ready to bust out of the tiny space we were in and move on. I also realized that we had a lot of stuff. A whole lot. 5 people over the course of 16.5 years can accumulate A LOT of shit. Oh my stars...I've never made so many trips to the donation bins, the second hand stores, and the dump. Despite that, we still brought A LOT of stuff into this new house. WOW. I'm certain that you'll see at least 2 of my children on a future episode of Hoarders.

Back on track here...as I prepared for this move, I went through a whole gambit of emotions...euphoria, fear, happiness, excitement, anger, frustration, exhaustion, disbelief. But I also had an emotion that completely surprised and broadsided me.

Sadness.

I mean, how can someone experience sadness when this move was so needed? We were moving into a bigger space, with more bedrooms, more bathrooms, more yard, and more space in general? But there it was; sadness crept right on in and punched me right in the cockles of my heart. Suddenly I realized that my kids were all raised in this ridiculously small space, and there were many memories connected to this house. Many, many, MANY memories.

All the while, I was trying to arm Imp with the tools he needed to make this big move. He had already made the successful transition to a new school (I'm SO proud of him for his ability to easily make the transition to this new school - he did it willingly and stepped WAY out of his comfort level to do so - and he never complained, even though I knew it was the hardest thing he's ever had to do), but he was definitely really worried about the move. Suddenly we were taking away his *safe place* and were moving him to a new, completely unfamiliar space. In the days directly before the move, I didn't have time to think about sadness - or happiness or anything - I was just trying to pack everything up so we could accomplish this move in a short period of time. I figured I was emotionally safe at that point. BUT...then on moving day, after the house was completely emptied, and I was at the house somewhat alone (Banshee was out at the car waiting for me, and the cleaning lady was cleaning) doing the once over...sadness came back, with a side of nostalgia. Hard. I walked through all those empty rooms and remembered various milestones and events that occurred in them. It was very bittersweet. The tears started and I questioned if we were doing the right thing after all. This house was all that our kids had known. Then I told myself the same thing I told Imp and Banshee as they prepared for this move...that the memories were all stored in our minds and hearts, and that our new house would provide us with new memories. So, as I walked out the door for the last time, and pulled away for the last time, I bid farewell to the place that provided so many stresses memories and milestones.

THEN...I walked into our new house, and realized that we were doing the right thing. I got over the sadness REALLY fast....goodbye old house, thanks for the memories, but heeeellllloooo NEW HOUSE!! Now that we're settled (mostly), we are looking to start making new memories...starting with this weekend when Teen comes home to her 'home' for the first time, and when we celebrate our first Thanksgiving dinner.

What a "Crappy" Day...

A mid-week post. This is some sort of blog miracle. However, today needs to be recorded so we can ALL look back and laugh. Someday. Actually, "I" did laugh as it happened (so much that I piddled in my pantalooners - have I mentioned that I'm having surgery to fix that situation in a few short weeks?!), but looking back, my laughter may have been a little inappropriate and unappreciated.

So, today was going by fine - we survived the school and work days, a trip to the city for a medical appointment (what a wasted trip that was), and two trips to the dance studio. I even made a quick trip to hell Walmart. I drove Banshee home from the dance studio, and before I knew it, she was running downstairs with the silly notion that she was going to watch TV. We called her up to get ready for bed, and then she screeches that blood-curdling squeal that has earned her the name, "Banshee". She announces that someone had pooped on the floor down there. Oddly enough it was NOT automatically assumed that it was Barky the dog, she specifically said "someone" as if it was a real possibility that her brother, Dad, myself, or some random phantom pooper came in and dropped a deuce on the floor; because you know, that's the way we roll around here.

Son-of-a-bitch. Again.

In the past couple of days, Barky has shit on the floor while we're at work. It should be noted that our entire house is hardwood, tile or vinyl with TWO area rugs. Can you guess where Barky shits?! Every. Single. Time. I get it, there's far more traction on carpet and it probably closely resembles grass, but seriously?! Is it REALLY that hard to just shit on the easily cleaned wood, tile or vinyl?

Apparently so.

She's had a horrendous time with allergies this year, so she's on medication to help with that. Just on the weekend, we started her on a new, higher dose, and obviously it's wrecking havoc on her little system, and as a result, she's wrecking havoc on my area rugs. You can't help but feel bad for her. We don't even have to chastise her for it - she hangs her head and rats herself out before we even step inside the door. Poor thing! When I arrived home for a quick dinner, I saw that My Other Half (MOH) had diligently cleaned up a mess on the carpet in the living room (one of the perks of being the last one home every day). I figured we were safe and all cleaned up.

Or so we thought. When Banshee ran downstairs to turn the TV on, she found the bonus pile of shit. With her feet. Her BARE feet. That's right, Banshee skidded through the a cold, pile of shit with her bare feet. AND...she screamed bloody murder calmly announced that she had some on her feet. I'm not going to lie, I probably would have hooted and hollered and maybe even screamed if it happened to me, so I can't really blame her for her reaction, because I mean, come on, she had shit squished through her toes. We (loosely translated: MOH) went down to clean up the mess on the floor. There Banshee stood frozen in place with shit all over her feet. Finally, we tell her to sit down and clean it up already. She's horrified. She asks her Dad to do it for her, but he's busy cleaning up the now ground into the rug shit mark. She looks to me, but already my eyes are watering and I'm laughing because the look on her (and her father's face) is hilarious. MOH hands her the paper towels and tells her to wipe it off, so she can go up and have a shower to clean it properly.

AND...then she starts to retch. A LOT. MOH was getting frustrated with her because I think he was worried that she was really going to vomit, so that made me laugh even more. It was this point where I laughed so hard I piddled. Then she started to laugh between her retches. The more she wiped, the more she retched; the more she retched, the more I laughed, and the more I laughed (and peed) the more she laughed and retched. She retched so much, I can't believe she didn't actually vomit. Although I can't take much credit for the physical aspect of my youngest children, I can safely say that my youngest daughter gained her retching ability from moi! That is ALL me.

Now, I know many of you are probably thinking that I should be awarded the worst mother of the year medal for my laughing at her, but, in the not-so-distant past, the very same thing happened to me as I heading out to work. I booked it across the living room and skidded through (and fell on my ass) in a rather ginormous pile of diarrhea. Suffice it to say, it squished up between my toes, and made a HUGE mess of my clothes. I retched and gagged as I cleaned it and myself up; all the while, my darling youngest offspring, Banshee, laughed hysterically at me.

Admittedly, she wasn't laughing as she stood in the shower and cleaned out between her toes (I maybe was just a little bit...), but someday, she will look back and find as much humour as I did.

SO...everything and everyone is cleaned, scrubbed and fine now. BUT...what a way to end the mid-week blahs. Let's hope that Barky can contain herself tomorrow...we don't have time for excitement like that.

Successful first week of school

Good morning, all! It's shaping up to a productive day - one load of laundry in the dryer and the second well on it's way in the washer, the dog is walked, I've packed up several boxes (this move is coming up soon - although not soon enough at this point), swept the floors in the basement and main floors, mopped the bathroom and kitchen floors, and now I'm relaxing with a tea while perusing the inter webs - AND it's not even 6:00am! My damn internal alarm is stuck at 4:30am. OYE!

So, it appears that my little clan has barely survived the first week of school completely exhausted and overwhelmed relatively unscathed. While he was anxious and extraordinarily nervous, Imp went off to his new school with an open-mind and a willingness. I can't imagine how tough it is to have to start anew at a school that has a gazillion a few hundred more students, and where your old school could probably physically fit neatly inside the gym of your new school, with room to spare!! BUT...he did it, with surprisingly little kickback. A couple of mornings were a bit rough, but I suspect it was more resistance to the change in routine and the realization that he's going to have to go to bed earlier and get up earlier for the next 10 months Haha!! They all need to go to bed before Mom now, and can't sleep until 10:30 or 11:00 am anymore. Nope - I'm not secretly thrilled about that at all!. We are SO proud of him for his efforts this week - this is completely out of his comfort zone. OH - and he brought home several notes/sets of paperwork - probably more than he's actually brought home in the past 3 school years combined (paperwork was NOT his forte - I was completely out of touch with the goings-on at his old school last year). Given the chance to go back to what he knows, he would jump, but he's going to survive this transition - I just know it! For the record, he's going to hang out with one of his old buddies from his old school today - and he's delighted about that. Banshee makes me dizzy. hit the ground running on the first day, and hasn't looked back. She rolls with the punches and thrives on this stuff. She is thrilled with her class, and has already been a little socialite this weekend with sleepovers and such. She also had another dance rehearsal mid-week, so that got her completely "jazzed" up (I crack me up, sometimes!) for the insane regular schedule, which starts tomorrow. SO...if you're trying to find me in the next 10 months, I'll be pimping myself out so I can afford to put my kid through dance at the studio. My Other Half (MOH) had a successful week too - no complaints (except for his sore feet). And Teen...she's had a good/successful week too, although it's not without incident. She got herself a humdinger of a cold, had some funky reaction to cold medication she took, and then to round off the week, wound up with a black eye. Clumsy Clydo She says, it's because she's a complete klutz something to do with smacking her face off her desk as she bent to pick something up, but I suspect it's more to do with her incoordination and clumsiness, but...I wasn't there. Sometimes I think I need to wrap this one in bubble wrap. And me? I survived too. Lunches, paperwork, and all.

Yesterday, I took Banshee to the city to buy dance "stuff" - you know, shoes and uniform requirements. For her, the dance store is like IKEA, Costco or HomeSense for adults. When we walked in the door, she started to vibrate with excitement. Me? I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear; so many people, so little space. I discovered 2 things while in that store, 1) Banshee has her own taste and opinion in clothing now (loosely translated, that means that she's not quite so willing to 'settle' for the cheap, plain jane body suit and shorts I was picking out for her - oh no, she wants the spendy (although very lovely) fancy-pants ones); and 2) contrary to what I've been led to believe, dance is NOT a cheaper activity than cheer. HOLY SHIT!!! Not even close! BUT...like I said, she lives and breathes dance, and when I see her lovingly looking at her new shoes and prancing around and practicing dance moves in front of her mirror with her new bodysuit and shorts on, I don't mind the cost even if it means pimping myself out for the next 10 months so we can pay for it.

After the dance store, we made a trip to the mall, because you know, going to a packed mall on a crappy weekend day is always a smart thing to do. I had a never-ever-been-experienced-before moment...I walked out of that mall with more money than I walked into it with. CRAZINESS! No - I didn't rob a bank or anything - I just returned something - and didn't find anything else I needed. Well, I did find things I "NEED" (like furniture for my new sunroom, or cabinets for the family room, or a new washer and dryer...), but with this impending move, I don't want to bring anything else into this house, so, I didn't. This whole moving thing is a great way to save money. For now, anyway. Ask me about that AFTER we move...

SO, tomorrow we embark on the first full week of hell school, adding in some extra crazy. curricular activities. We are still preparing for the upcoming move (we can't wait to get it over with already!), yet still trying to retain some "normal" here (I know, most of you are laughing hysterically at that one - Normal is not a word in my family's vocabulary). Last week went really well - much better than we expected, so we are hopeful that this one will bring much chaos great things. Have a great week!

Back to School 2015

School. There. I said it. In our house, that is somewhat of a swear word - right up there with the likes of snow and dental surgery. School starts tomorrow here in the Arctic Tundra (although the Arctic tundra is anything but cold...it's more along the lines of a hot and humid day at Disney World (seriously - have you ever been to Disney in the summer months? I swear that it is EXACTLY what Hell would feel like). This academic year is full of changes for our family again. Teen took another huge step towards independent adulthood and cut the apron string a whole lot more (Oh, my Momma heart!) by moving into an apartment this past week, and is ready to roll for her second year of university. Banshee is returning to the same school for the extended french program - she is excited and dying to know who her new teacher is, and has been fervently praying to the educational powers that be to be in the same class as her little posse of friends. MOH even has a change this year; he is teaching the first ever Rugby class offered at his school (along with the same old gym and math classes he usually teaches). Imp is the one facing the most changes. Change isn't easy for him, so this is an anxious and challenging time for us. Because of the move, we have no choice but to change schools for him. We simply can't handle the logistics of transporting him back and forth to the school he's always known. The hope? reality is, he's moving to a great school with great resources and programming. We know he'll be fine - it's just the adjustment to the change - and we're ready for it. We'll support him and help him as much as we can.

For many parents, this is considered the "Most Wonderful Time of the Year". For us - it's more of a hellish necessity or legal parenting requirement. First and foremost, it means that summer has officially come to an end, and that makes us cranky and sad. We are NOT looking forward to the winter months. In the past couple of weeks, we have dropped a shit-ton of cash on a ridiculous list of purchased school supplies as requested by the school. I swear that the schools must get kick-backs from Staples and Walmart because they ask for such insane amounts and specific items. And the clothes and shoes. OMG, the shoes. Banshee is a true girl - clothes and shoes are her thing. She agonizes over what to buy, and in the end, she has to painstakingly choose between 3 or 4 different items, and then I hear about it for weeks as she waffles back and forth about how she thinks she's made the wrong decisions. Over clothes and shoes. For real. Imp? Shoe and clothes are NOT his thing. Asking him to go shopping is like asking him to voluntarily have dental surgery without freezing and being stoned (and believe me, he's had dental work, and it involves the wacky gas because he has an inherent fear of needles and such). I have to drag him out shopping. It's painful for ALL parties involved.

Next, the kids will have to go to bed at a reasonable time, WOOHOO! which makes us sad, and it also means that we have to drag their cranky, sleepy arses out of bed every single morning we have to rouse our little rays of sunshine before 10:00am. No more fires in the pit every night as we watch the bats fly overhead and make s'mores or weiney octopus bed time snacks. School mornings are like our own personal piece of hell every single morning stressful. We are constantly reminding people to get out of bed, to brush their teeth, to eat breakfast, to brush their teeth, to get dressed, to brush their teeth, to get their lunches ready, to brush their teeth, to get their stuff organized, to brush their teeth, to wash their faces, to put the electronics down, to brush their teeth, to leave the dog alone, to brush their teeth, to focus on the task at hand, and for the love of God, to BRUSH THEIR DAMN TEETH!!!! The teeth brushing battle is SO real in this house - HOLY CRAP!!!! I don't understand why they fight us on it. By the time I leave for the office in the morning, I've probably said the words, "BRUSH YOUR TEETH" about 50 times.

Then...there's the agenda. You know, the one that they write stuff in for the first couple of weeks, then it goes missing or comes home empty day after day, and we never know if there's any homework, tests or assignments - until you get a report card with a D on it at the end of the school year, but there's no explanation because the teachers are taking work action and the report card simply had the grades - with no comments (this was after the threat of not getting a report card at all - because apparently report cards aren't considered part of the normal part of teaching and school?!). BUT...I regress.

Then there's the homework (although we don't seem to get much of that - especially when Imp's agenda goes AWOL, and Banshee's comes home day after day unfilled (what a colossal waste of money these are)). And the extra-curricular activities. This year there's 4 nights of dance, plus the odd weekend, and basketball. And the birthday parties. And the sleepovers. And the "play dates", although I think if I used the term play date in front of almost 11 yo Banshee and 12 yo Imp, it would illicit a strange look (although I'm certain we've reached the "my parents are so dumb stage" already). I guess the term would be, "hang outs"? Regardless, there are many - and we are running constantly. You know, because that's what we do on our 'free time' - run about with the kids. I surely wouldn't ever want to be able to do anything for myself. Actually - I truly don't mind running with the kids. The time where they "NEED" us is so limited, and before I know it, all 3 of them will be out of the house, and I'll have all the time in the world. I enjoy watching their activities and seeing them grow and flourish with their relationships.

THEN...F*CKING delightful lunches. My favourite thing with the picky eaters I've spawned. If it isn't pizza, nachos and burgers, then Imp isn't eating it. If it isn't "fun", Banshee isn't eating it. And of course they don't like anything the other likes, so, it's a struggle. I spend great amounts of time picking their brains to get ideas of what to pack, and I spend insane amounts of money on the things they request, but day in, day out, their lunches travel back and forth with them basically fully in tact. Neither of them (and Teen as well when she was in elementary school) eat anything. Often times, there is nothing but the drink gone. They either talk a whole lot, or just look at their food, although I suspect it's the prior. My kids talk. A LOT. I have NO idea where they get that from (as I walk away whistling innocently). At least the racoons and skunks that raid our green bin every night get good meals, right? I live for pizza day - it's the best $4 I spend every week!!!

SO...today we prepare for the next 10 painful months of educating our children. When we get the official calendar tomorrow night, we will ceremoniously mark the PD and holiday breaks on the calendar, and we will all try to adjust to the school routine. For now, Banshee is painstakingly trying to figure out what she's going to wear, while Imp stresses over his new school and such, MOH is worried about Imp's adjustment as well - and me? Right now, I'm stressing over the damn lunches - although as night falls, I know that I'll lose much sleep over Imp and his new experience... And I worry about Teen and her freedom, responsibilities, and the fact that she's so far away. This is truly that moment where as parents, we have to trust that we've taught her well and given her the tools she needs to survive on her own. I also pray with all my heart that she actually remembers why she's there - SCHOOL!

I don't love back to school. I truly don't. It totally infringes on life, and brings forth so many changes But it also gives them the knowledge they need to know to be successful in life, because we all know that life isn't always going to be cottage and beach days followed by fires and s'mores and card games, but we can certainly enjoy it while we can, right?

Here's hoping that the 2015/2016 academic year is a fantastic one!! Good luck to all the students - young and old (because my courses will start soon too!).