So How Was Your Decade?

2010. A new decade. I usually don't pull my head out of my ass long enough to do any type of serious self-reflection but in honour of the fast approaching new year I thought I would make a list of accomplishments, failures and whatnot over the past 10 years.

So yeah, what have I done over the past decade? Let's see, the most life altering moment was when I left my first husband. That was fun. A game the whole family can play (literally). I don't recommend it unless of course you wake up one morning and rather than rolling over to issue a sleepy "good morning sweetheart" you roll over and contemplate sneaking out of bed, heading to the kitchen to grab the biggest knife you can find and doing bodily harm to your significant other. Yeah, then it might be time to reconsider your direction in life.

I learned what it felt like to almost lose a child. I can't say I really recommend this one either. Though the upside of this is that that child will be more precious to you than anything else in life, forever.

I decided three years ago my life wasn't chaotic enough and going to University to obtain my degree would be a great idea. It will probably take me 20 years at the rate I'm going to get said degree. I have visions of walking across the stage with the assistance of a walker, and having my Depends undergarments fail me miserably at the most inopportune time.

I bought my first house, all by myself. Signing the mortgage made me feel like I was finally a real grown up. Which is odd considering having children didn't give me this feeling.

I learned that friends will save your life. Their kindness will sometimes bring  you to your knees. Family is wonderful, but friends are there because they want to be, not because they have to be.

I lived by myself for the first time ever, and learned that I liked it....alot.

I traveled to Europe and found true love (or a serious case of true lust).  And learned that sometimes love is not enough.

Four days before boarding a plane to Paris (a LIFELONG dream of mine) I had to cancel the trip because  my daughter was in the neurology unit of a children's hospital. This taught me that my own hopes and dreams aren't nearly as important (insignificant really) as the hopes and dreams of my children and I would sacrifice ANYTHING in my own life, to make their dreams come true.

I've learned that underneath the mother, wife, housecleaner, chaffeur, worker...there lurks a woman. Although my life has been shaped by all of these roles, I'm something more than the culmination of these roles.

I am a leader. This was one of the most startling things I learned about myself. For someone who spent all of her teen years and a good deal of her early twenties following others, this was a bit of a revelation. Perhaps this revelation comes to everyone, with age and/or experience.

I'm not the same person I was when the world rang in the new millenium. I don't have the same ideals, goals or values. I would say I've completely reinvented myself but that would sound totally retarded.

At the end of the next decade I'll be closer to 50 than I will be to 40. I'll have kids in their 20's who may have kids of their own. This of course would make me one of the youngest, coolest grandmas in the world.

I'm looking forward to seeing who I will be.

I hope 2010 is full of happiness for all of you.

It's The Final Countdown

Six days and counting people. Can you believe it??? Did you think Jan 2 would be upon us so fast back when I posted this? I've noticed a few of you have mentioned the challenge (along with calling me and Zgirl bitches) in your posts. Yeah well, it's a good damn thing I have tough skin because you are all a bunch of unforgiving bitches when forced to give up your twinkies and comfort food.

Aunt Juicebox has a great post up about the blahs which made me chuckle. Spaghetti over at Spaghetti and Bagels lets it all hang out and has actually posted a pic of her trouble spots, thereby becoming my new hero because damn girl who has the balls to do that?!?! Kat over at Happy Hour writes about joining the bandwagon though she seems to believe she's going to fall off just as quickly and she hops on. These are just a few fantabulous women who are PSYCHED about our challenge.

So I'm thinking (which tends to get me in a shitload of trouble), what's a challenge without a prize? About as much fun as sex when all you want to do is sleep!!! So we need a prize, and here is where my thought train is going. We have all these fabulous people joining this crazy challenge from all points of the compass. So I suggest each person that signs on also commits to sending the winner a little token of congrats from their respective corners of the world. Nothing expensive, nothing that will get you arrested for sending it to Canada (because you know I'm going to win, right?). Just think, if one of you crazy gals wins the challenge, you'll have goodies arriving from all over the world in your mail. Actual stuff arriving by post is tres exciting because NOTHING good arrives by mail anymore. And the winner has to commit to taking pics of all the goodies and sharing them with the blog world. Please feel free to tell me if you think this idea is batshit crazy.

So how do we know who wins? Well that's where my uber organizational skills come in (shutyourface I am so organized). I'm going to post a Mister Widget thing at the end of this post so you can sign up. You also need to grab Zgirls fabulous button over at the Think Tank so everyone knows you've signed up. Once you sign up, put up a post and tell us what your goals are and how you hope to accomplish them. Each Wednesday I (or Zgirl if I'm in hospital due to my attempt to run the minute mile) will do a "Lost It Bitch" post where we'll regale you with our awesomeness. I typed that with a straight face. I'll put the linky thing at the bottom of my post so that you can let everyone know you have a new post up too!

As for pounds lost, I think the only fair way to determine a winner is to go by % of body weight lost rather than pounds. So if you're 130 and want to lose 10 pounds (you should just eat a fucking twinkie and shut up) and you lose those 10 pounds than you'll have lost 7.5% of your body weight, I know I have mad math skillz. This makes it fair for for everyone. Thoughts?

We need to verify that you are indeed losing, right? Not that I don't trust you (that Zgirl would sell her own mother to win a challenge). I was thinking of taking pictures of the scale and putting it on your post but I don't know how comfortable each of you would be with that idea. I have no shame but I realize everyone is not as retarded as I am. Thoughts?

If you've read the post that started this ball rolling, you know that I went from a size 14 to a size 5 about four years ago. It was hard freakin wo rkand worth every second of it. If you don't believe another word I type believe this -- There is no other feeling in the world like slipping into a pair of pants NINE SIZES SMALLER than what you have worn for alot of your adult life. Depending upon how much weight you have to lose, people will start noticing it after the first 10 pounds are off...they'll start asking you, "Are you losing weight?" You of course will than do the happy dance and shout, "You bet your sweet ass I am, would you like to have sex with me now for noticing?" I shit you not, you will be THAT grateful...

Not to get all sappy and shit, but I know you guys can do this. Yes, you'll screw up and go for days without exercising, you'll slip and inhale a big mac for supper. The important thing is not to let the screw ups beat you. It's a screw up...curse about it, blog about it and forget about it. There will be days you'll think, "Dual Mom's a bitch and I am so deleting her from my blog roll". Don't do it. You have a whole internet full of people cheering for you. Remember that. When the successes come, and they will, we'll be hooting for you from our collective couches. And I'll be hooting the loudest, for each and every one of you!

Merry Christmas Y'all

It's 9:30 on Christmas morning and can I just tell you how much I hate not having my kids with me? Oh my god it sucks dirty monkey balls, it really does. I feel wrong, everything feels wrong. The presents are all wrapped under the tree, I have my Christmas pj's on and it's Christmas morning but it's so quiet. Will you please join me in wishing a raging case of the gonorrhea on SWSNBN? If it weren't for her my kids would be with me right now. I get that I'll burn in hell for wishing such a thing on another human on Christmas day. It's a risk I'm willing to take.

So to entertain myself I thought I would write about my exciting day yesterday. It started out sedately enough. I actually slept in until 9:00am. Upon arising I drank a pot of coffee, cleaned up the mess from my party the night before, wrapped some presents and then got ready to go in town. I had no reason to go shopping, but I was bored. So I hop in the car and as I'm driving down the road this car comes flying up behind me. I'm in a small community, we're not driving on a highway, and I'm doing slightly over the speed limit. This chick is in one helluva hurry and has to forcefully brake to avoid hitting me. I gueestimate she was probably doing about 50km over the speed limit. She can't pass me so I speed up a bit which has me going about 15-20km over the speed limit. I refuse to drive any faster. She is pissed. I'm watching her in my rearview mirror and her hands are going and she's talking on her cell phone and she's craning her neck out her side window to see if there's an opportunity to pass me, all the while I'm thinking...where the hell's the fire lady?

So we come to a set of lights and we're both turning left into town. The light is green, I wait for a few cars to go through, there's a small break in the traffic, I scoot out and turn. I realize she's turning right behind me and there is no chance in hell she's going to make it through the light before the truck that's coming in the opposite direction (travelling straight through the light, he obviously had the right of way). I think I may have actually closed my eyes because I knew it was coming. There's the screech of brakes and the loud crash of impact. It took seconds but I remember sitting in my car chanting to myself "Please don't let her be dead, please don't let her be dead, please don't let her be dead" before I got my car stopped and sprung out. The truck had hit her passenger side door and drove her about 10 feet through the intersection, narrowly avoiding another car.

She was in her car, she was fine. The guy driving the truck had gotten out of his truck and he was throwing up on the side of the road. He was that shaken by what had happened he just lost his shit. She got out of her car and I started to make my way over to her, assuming she would be shaken and in shock. She strides over to the guy and starts SHOUTING at him. I stood there with my mouth fucking hanging completely open. I have never in all my life been so amazed at the audacity of another person. Here is the guy, who did absolutely nothing wrong, he's throwing up he's so upset that he hit her (she didn't give him any other alternative but to hit the stupid bitch) and she's screaming at HIM!?!?!

The cops arrive, the ambulance arrive, the tow trucks arrive. Meanwhile this intersection is completely closed to traffic on Christmas eve (main road into the city) and people are PISSED.  A cop approaches me because it was obvious from where my car was parked that I witnessed the whole thing. I briefly considered telling the cop that she must have misjudged the time she had to get through the intersection. We all make mistakes right? We've all driven faster than we should and we've all been in a hurry to get somewhere. Then I watched her as she stood by the side of the road, pissed off and looking at her watch. The guy driving the truck was as white as a sheet and his entire body was shaking. And she's looking at her watch. So I said to the cop, "You know what, I'm not sure where that chick was headed but she followed me for about 15km. The entire time she rode about 6 inches from my back bumper, she was on her phone and it was blatantly obvious she was in one hell of a hurry. She pulled out right in front of him, he didn't have time to even think about trying to avoid her. There's no doubt who's at fault here, but do you know what's worse, she got out of her car and started screaming at the poor guy who hit here, while he's throwing up on the side of the road. As far as I'm concerned she's a menace to society and you should lock her up. Truck driving buddy should have thrown up on HER. Can I go now?"

Is it evil of me that I derived a little bit of pleasure knowing this stupid bitch would probably not get to her intended destination? Of course she completely fucked up another person's Christmas eve, not to mention everyone trying to get into town for the 2 hours the intersection was closed. She showed no remorse for any of it. I still can't figure out how she thought she was going to get through that intersection before the truck was upon her.

The whole episode just proves a saying my mother used to have.... some people should have been eaten while their bones were soft.

On that note, I wish each and everyone of you a very Merry Hairy Christmas (as opposed to the raging case of gonorrhea I'm wishing on SWSNBN).

Loves to you all
Dual Mom

Houston...We Have Liftoff!!!

Note: This post, for the most part, was written last night, I passed out before posting it.

Holy shit! The house is CLEAN, the tree is UP, the shopping is DONE, the fucking fudge is MADE, I got my hair CUT today...I am superwoman, hear me roar. Now y'all excuse me while I pass out from exhaustion.

Are you tired? I'm freakin tired (well Dual Mom, perhaps you should go to bed, it is almost midnight and you do have to go to work in the morning, oh but no, posting on your blog and having a glass of wine is a much better idea than sleep, oh wait those toothpicks holding your eyelids open are slippin...just sec I'll fix them for you, ok isn't that better?) What? It's not like all of you don't have conversations with yourself....while typing. Shut up.

So yeah, it's done. And the haircut (I know I'm not supposed to start a sentence with and)...the haircut is fabulous and I think I have girly love for my new hairdresser. I swear if I were a lesbian and she weren't married, I'd so be stalking that beotch. She had me doubled over with laughter and threatened to cut my ear off if I didn't stop. It doesn't get much better than someone threatening you with bodily harm after knowing you for only 20 minutes. Unless of course she THEN proceeds to massage your head for 15 minutes, it should be illegal for something to feel THAT good. Then she did the whole hot towel thing and I just about melted into a puddle in the chair. Of course I got a bit of the whole raised eyebrow from the boss when I came back from lunch an hour late with my hair 3 inches shorter, but whateva, it's Christmas dude.

Look what Zgirl had made, I'm soooooooooooooooo excited!



So to those of you that have asked me if you can partake in this little knock down, drag out, kick em in the groin challenge that we will commence on Jan 2.........YES! Go over to the Think Tank, say hi to Zgirl and grab the button. What are you waiting for, that weight isn't going to fall off all on it's own beothces. Display it proudly, shout it from the rooftops, "We will be skinny bitches...we will no longer have to hide our muffin tops under really fugly long shirts".

Now, I'm off to get ready for work. Let's see if I love the new haircut as much today as I did yesterday. You know a new hairstyle/cut is a bit like a one night stand, seems like a great idea until you wake up the next morning only to discover the error of your ways.

One more thing, I got this comment from a new reader:

"I've decided to make up an "I'm scared of you but not necessarily in a bad way" award, just so I can give it to you."

I laughed, oh how I laughed. Is it wrong that it amuses me greatly that people are scared of me? I mean c'mon I am a PUSSYCAT. Meow. Seriously. I'm going to stalk his ass until he makes this award just so I can pass it on because none of y'all have a "I'm scared of you but not necessarily in a bad way" award.

Shit I'm late. Must fly. Happy day.

You Make Loving Fun

When I mentioned in my Cougar post that I really like days that are all about ME, I wasn't pulling your jockstrap. I have a severe case of middle child syndrome. I was the third girl born to my poor parents and all they wanted was a boy.  They constantly dressed me in blue. That's right, my mother would dress my older sister (who was 2 years my senior) and I in the same outfits, older sister got the pink I got the blue. No, no subliminal shit going on there. I think I was 14 before I was actually owned an item of pink clothing. Is it any wonder I'm what one would call a total girly girl and that I hate the color blue (even though it really does look great on me)?

Anysexualidentitycrisis, without further ado I present some awards bestowed upon l'il ole me.

Tink gave me this award. He's a new reader and I haven't had a chance to check him out yet but in giving me the award he said:  "Her post about Cougars is EPIC (LOVES IT), and she brings me back to a childhood of shared custody, lol. " This guy is YOUNG (21 according to his profile) and I'm sure it's the cougar in me that has me so tickled that he LOVES me. Tickled pink....totally (rather than being tickled blue which is what my parents would have preferred).

Then I got the above from Surferwife . She also made reference to the Cougar post.  Another new reader that I'll be checking out ASAP. Thanks girl! Be sure to go check her out.

Lee over at Headaches, Hotflashes & Hormones. What can I say about Lee? She really is the best, always leaves great comments and her blog is a great read. She is a darlin' sweetheart. Thanks Lee!

Zgirl over at the Think Tank gave this out to all her lip smakers (as she calls her commentors). As I've said before Zgirl, you are fanfuckintabulous, and you KNOW it! In case you haven't heard by now, Zgirl and I have a little bit of competitive edge and we're throwin down in the New Year.

Bloggy love...I can't think of a better way to start my week. There are rules with the first award that my dementia prevents me from following. Please don't rat on me. I'm supposed to pass it along to 10 of my readers, but ALL of my readers have it. Should I pass it along anyway? Seriously, I don't know.

I totally missed my 50th post celebration (my last post was the 50th). It's really too bad because I was going to have a party for y'all and serve sangria in a shoe.

I have two days of work this week, than I am off for 10 DAYS people. WOOT WOOT. You gotta love working in education. I have lots of ideas for posts, some which are laugh out loud happy, some which will probably have me drinking for days after I write them (like I need an excuse). I'm looking forward to putting the ideas to paper (keyboard..whateva). My plans for the time off include giving my house a severe enema, writing lots, eating, drinking and cuddling with my little girl on the couch. She's the only one of the three kids that likes me anymore.

So the holidays are fast approaching. I am now the Queen of Christmas because I just made ice cubes in the shape of Christmas trees, beeeotches. My presents are not wrapped but I have festive ice cubes. Tell me what you're really looking forward to.

You Thought I Forgot, Didn't You?

Guess what? Two weeks from today is New Year's Day. You know what that means, don't you? Well, beside the fact that we'll all be hanging over the toilet for the day wishing for the sweet release of death and cursing that one final drink we ABSOLUTELY had to have. That's right folks, it means you have exactly two weeks left to stuff your face for 18 hours a day as you sit on the couch perfecting your ass groove. In two weeks time, it's all over but the crying. In two weeks, we kick off our "Lose It Bitch" challenge and I am expecting each and every one of you to have your shit together by January 2nd. Yes, I'm looking at YOU.

The fantalicious Brandee over at the Think Tank even has a button ready for us! I know, the excitement, right?  I'm sure she'll be posting it as soon as she's done waxing poetic about Ed's balls.

To honor the fact that Lose It Bitch is fast approaching, I thought I would share with you some timely tips to assist you in your efforts to make the most of the next two weeks. I'm all about helping out the masses.

1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Holiday spirit and should be bitch slapped promptly. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. It's rare. You cannot find it any other time of year. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 gazzillion calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnogaholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. Don't like eggnog you say, add rum. Rum will make it better.

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Put it on the turkey, on the dressing..... hell bathe in it. Gravy is good.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission. The same goes for real butter.
5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Holiday party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and the IV bag full of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the
center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. This is very important. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards. Fruitcake is fucking retarded.

10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner.

Remember this motto to live by (in effect for the next two weeks only):

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate and wine in one hand, body thoroughly used up,
totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

Come January 2nd the motto will be:

"My body is a temple and I will treat it as such. Muffin tops are meant for muffins, not the human body."

Finally, this is my Christmas present to all of you. Mwahhhh!

He's so fucking beautiful.....

TMI Thursday - Cougars On The Prowl

Daffy said that I need to partake of TMI Thursday's to be one of the cool kids. I'm all about being one of the cool kids so here goes nothing. This story involves several friends who have in no way shape or form given me permission to verbally vomit about their lives for all the world to read. It's too bad they chose me as a friend. There will be no distinguishing details revealed about any of them.

Birthday's are a huge deal among my circle of friends. We always get the group together, there are gifts, dinner, and all around jovial times. We are a pretty sedate group (don't worry I have TWO groups of friends, the sedate group and not so sedate group). I call this group my sedate friends. I'm not sure why we're so boring sedate when we're together. They are all older than me, I'm the youngest in the group (by 15 years with some of the girls). They are all woman I currently work with or have worked with in the past.

Anyfriend, back in the fall we were celebrating my birthday. I love days that are all about ME. Everyday should be all about me and then EVERYONE could partake of the wonderfulness of celebrating me. That would be so awesome for you guys. The most conservative chicka in the group had me convinced that NO ONE could come to dinner or partake of the fantasticalness of celebrating me. Everyone was busy. She had me CONVINCED it was her and I for a quick birthday celebration. Bitch got me good. We arrived at a brand new restaurant in town and there were the other 8 girls in the group and our friend who lives out of province, who had also come into town to celebrate ME. Keep in mind I have worked with some of these ladies for seven or eight years. We are great friends and I love each of them, but I have never seen any of them drunk. Never. We've been tipsy together and we love a good bottle of wine but shitfaced, goggle eyed, everyman is the man of my dreams drunk...it's never happened. Until that fateful night. The stars aligned, the moon was in it's zenith (whatever the hell that means) and someone decided it would be fun to do tequila shooters. The evening just went to hell in a handbasket after that.

Ok, you need to get the mental pic in your head here. There are 9 of us, ranging in age from 36 (me) to 50 (bitch friend* that had me convinced no one was coming to my party). We're all in our corporate gear from work, in a new restaurant/club that has been touted in the media as the most chic, urban place to be. We have a beautiful dinner, I open all my awesome presents and then we start doing tequila shooters. Oh the humanity. I still shudder to think of the total asshats we made of ourselves that evening.

At one point we had a male waiter literally run ...RUN from our table because we scared the shit out him. Perhaps it was the ferile, drunken look in our eyes or perhaps it was because we kept asking him how old he was while licking our lips. We laughed as he ran away, telling him to take his weak-ass will  to another table and send us a REAL man.

At one point, bitch friend decided it would be a pretty neat idea to drink tequila out of her brand new Franco's. So she took her shoe off, poured 6 shots of tequila in her shoe and proceeded to pass it around the table.  We drank from her fucking shoe, laughing hysterically the entire time because c'mon, drinking from shoes is funny right, and not at all trailer trash. There are pictures.

A discussion was held regarding new lipsticks on the market. B had purchased a new lipstick and explained to the group that it made her lips tingle. No one believed her (we're drunk) so we had her haul the lipstick out of her purse to show us this magical lipstick. Then she proceeded to apply the lipstick on each set of lips sitting at the table. Much laughter ensued and jokes were made about putting the lipstick on our nipples ...because it tingled (not by me, I would never do that). There are pictures.

Oh and then there was dancing. Nothing finer than a bunch of middle age women thinking they got it goin' on like J. Lo in the middle of a dance floor. Of course, there was no stumbling involved, at all.  Classy, right?

Then bitch friend got sick. I'm not talking a little puke in your mouth sick, I'm talking painting the walls for an hour straight sick. We laughed. What's funnier than seeing the most straightlaced of the group puking her really expensive dinner all over the bathroom walls? That's funny, right? We thought so. Don't worry, we made sure someone guarded the bathroom door while she puked. We were also kind enough to phone her husband to tell him he had to come pick her up. He thought we were playing some sort of joke on him. He kept asking, "She's drunk? She can't be drunk." It took quite a while to convey our message because the conversation went something like this:

Me: Bitch's husband you need.....ohhhh just wait a sec I love this song here talk to K....
K: Bitch's husband...what Dual Mom was trying to tell you is that your wife is .... oh hold on Dual Mom wants me on the dance floor with her...talk to Jay.
Jay: Hey Bitch's husband, how are you? What? Your wife, oh she's in the bathroom redecorating. Don't worry she's fine, we got her back, just like they say in the hood (Jay wouldn't know a hood if it slapped her across the face). Oh wait, there's a cute boy....here talk to Mim.
Mim: ellooooo? huh...who is this?

I think it finally dawned on him how drunk we were because about a half hour later the cavalry arrived and he brought B's husband with him. We laughed with glee as they tried to round us up. It was a bit like romper room in your local pre-school class. Just as they thought they had the entire group gathered at the front door, someone would make a run for it back to the dance floor. I think at one point they recruited the assistance of a bouncer.

The bill for the tequila shooters alone was $300. It was worth every penny of it.

Bitch friend was sick for three days. She tried to convince everyone she had swine flu.

It was the best birthday ever!

*I call her bitch friend but she's not. She is the kindest, most loving person I know.

I Will Light a Candle For You

The concert was beautiful. There was off key singing, forgotten lines, screeching band instruments, and it was beautiful. Nora did a wonderful job singing "The Grinch" with her classmates. She was so pleased to be on a stage in an actual theatre, so excited.

There is no doubt that one little darling stole the show. She was all of ten years old. An adorable little girl with blonde ringlets and the face of an angel. She timidly walked to the centre of the stage at the end of the evening as the audience sat waiting. There she stood, completely alone, in front of  theatre packed with parents and her entire school. As artificial snow fell all around her, she squinted against the stage lights to see into the audience, perhaps seeking comfort in the faces of her parents.

Then she opened her mouth, and she sang, acapella, with a voice belonging to an angel. The entire audience sat in complete awe. She sang...

light a candle
for the old man who sits staring
out a frosty windowpane

light a candle
for the woman who is lonely
and every Christmas is the same

for the children who need
more than presents can bring

light a candle
light the dark
light the world

light a heart or two
light a candle for me
I'll light a candle for you

light a candle
for the homeless and the hungry
a little shelter from the cold

light a candle
for the broken and forgotten
may the season warm their souls

can we open our eyes
to shine through the dark

light a candle
light the dark
light the world

light a heart or two
light a candle for me
I'll light a candle for you

I had never heard this song before and as her voice rang through the theatre I sat with silent tears running down my cheeks. Her voice raised the hair on my arms. She sang with the innocence of a child.  Her hands clasped nervously at her sides, a cherub like smile on her face, she sang. The entire school joined her during the last chorus. They held hands, smiled at each other and sang their little hearts out. Their desire to impress, to wow their parents was evident in the concentration on their faces. It lifted my heart and left me breathless. I could feel the stress, the worry, the anxiety melt away with each clear, beautiful note. These exquisite, innocent children, who are ours to cherish. They are ours to love and there really is no greater gift in life.

I have no doubt that come tomorrow I'll be back on the crazy train. The stress will worm its' way back into my life. However, for this small moment in time, I will treasure the sound of those voices echoing in my mind. I will treasure the pure, unadulterated joy those voices brought me.

Thank you, sweet, sweet children, thank you.

Just Shoot Me Now

I write this post taking full responsibility for the shit storm I have managed to get into. That being said it is my blog and I'll cry if I wanna. I have written blase posts regailing you with stories about my lack of progress on the Christmas front. Yeah well Dual Mom, you're fucked now because the blinders have come off. As I sit here in my living room, sans tree, sans presents, sans decoration, sans everything really, I have come to the ugly realization that the Christmas fairies aren't coming to do all these things, the tangle of lights on the patio aren't going to hang themselves, oh and yeah, my kids really do give a shit that THERE IS NO FUCKING TREE IN THE HOUSE. Who knew?

I'm hyperventilating as I write this post. I have a paper bag on my right and a bucket to throw up in on my left.

I just got home. FOURTEEN hours after leaving the house for work this morning. Exam written, board meeting attended, kids were even fed (it's debateable whether the food they consumed was actually nutritional, it was food, shutthefuckup). Tomorrow is Christmas concert night, which will mean a 16 hour day from the time I leave for work in the morning until I get home for the night.

So as I sit here drinking wine straight from the bottle I thought it would take my mind off of the state of my own life to read the fucked up state of all you loony tunes in bloggity blog world. Yeah well, Amanda over at MODG pulled off a Martha Stewert-esque party, complete with a No Vomiting table of finger foods and rocking tights. The Christmas tree looks as though it belongs on the cover of Style at Home. She had levels to her food tables for fuck sakes. I can't see my table because there's a week's worth of laundry on it waiting to be folded. You're supposed to put food on your table? Laura at Heels, Hemlines waxed poetic about how productive her Monday morning has been; new clients, read through her entire blog reader, leaped tall buildings in a single bound. Yeah well I remembered to brush my teeth before leaving for work. Take THAT!

So I need to make a list. There is so much to do I'm not sure if doing this will drive me completely over the edge thereby forcing my kids to call in reinforcements in the form of the men in white jackets and a one way ticket to crazyville. But here goes nothing.

So tomorrow I need to work all day, but somehow get out and pick out a fucking tree. Tree does not need to be perfectly shaped. Tree does not need to be the precise shade of green. At this point needles wouldn't even be a deal breaker. Tree needs to have a trunk, that's it. Drag tree (by myself) into the house and get it into the stand. Take daughter to concert. Feed kids. Oh need to get groceries in order to be able to feed kids. Get groceries before getting tree because tree won't fit in trunk with groceries in it. So take groceries home before getting tree. Don't forget Christmas concert.

Shopping. Recycled plastic bags are not appropriate gifts for children. If I don't get out shopping that's all I have to wrap and put under the tree. That or tampons. Don't pretend you didn't know I was mother of the year. Oh yeah, buy wrapping paper. Make fudge for staff reception, peanut butter balls, raspberry squares, fudge for gifts, scotch cookies, date squares. Check baking list because you're forgetting something.

Decorate tree? No I need to do that tomorrow, I can't wait until Thursday to decorate tree. Oh yeah, need to get boxes of decorations out of the shed. This will involve much cursing and probably physically harming myself when I'm accidentally crushed under the bbq. I'm sure the kids will come looking for me eventually.....when they get hungry. Wrap presents.

Oh yes, let's not forget that I agreed to host a party on December 23rd. Who does that? Dual Mom, that's who. The queen of delusion who thinks that fucking Christmas FAIRIES exist.

Seriously, where the hell did December go? There must be someone I can blame for this shit storm beside myself?!?! Anyone?

So tell me, what do you have left to do? Please keep in mind if you say nothing, I'm liable to drive a rusty screwdriver into my jugular, just for shits and giggles. If you point out that just LAST week I was posting about how I was going to frolick in a field of sunflowers, how the whole world was my oyster and how I vowed to be relaxed as a drug whore on bennies, I will bitch slap you...just sayin.

Send more wine.

Award Protocol

So okay blog land.....I have been honored again. Can I get a woot woot? I got this from Kelly over at the Crib. She totally rocks and I'm just a bit in love with her.

So what do I do with it? She didn't say I had to pass it on, and I mean let's get real here, me giving it to one of my readers would be like a billionaire winning $10 on a scratch ticket. They have more awards than they know what to do with. Do I post it? Do I print it and rub it all over my body? Do I just thank the Crib and carry on?

So it's Monday. Fuck. I have a Philosophy final to write at 2:00 this afternoon. I probably should have studied for this one because philosphy...yeah not my favorite subject. I mean philosophers and economists...they don't think like normal people. They take a straight forward, simple topic and twist it sixteen ways from Sunday, adding complex formulas and elements until the idea in question is completely unrecognizable from the straight forward, simple topic it started out as.

Then I have a board meeting at 5:30. I probably shouldn't forget to pick up the kids at some point and they will want to be fed because kids are high maintenance like that. Nora's Christmas concert is tomorrow evening, I still do not have a tree. The tree still needs to go up. The Christmas shopping isn't done. The Christmas decorations are still buried under the lawn furniture in the storage shed. The Christmas baking isn't done. The grocery shopping isn't done. Brother still hasn't decided whether we'll do dinner on Christmas night or brunch on Boxing day. Brother is about to get an ass whooping from big sis.

I have wine. Thank the powers that be for wine.

If Only I Went To Church

It's Sunday morning at 7:04. I have been awake since 5:40 and out of bed since 6:33am. It's insane I know. I'm hardwired to wake up early but I'm usually able to roll over and go back to sleep once it dawns on me that I don't have to get up and go to work. Not so this morning it seems. Oh well, I'll have all the more time to get those decorations started, right?  If I went to church I'd look so hawt because I'd have 3 hours to get ready. Do people try to look good at church anymore?  Alas, I do not go to church. Instead, I'll sit here drinking coffee, reading blogs and stealing meme's to post for your enjoyment, which sounds like a hot diggity good time.

You should also stop by Kys's and wish her a very happy birfday (as my daughter used to say before she could sound out the letter "t").

Sunday Stealing: The 6 Ws Meme

Who...

Is easy to love?

Kids? No, sometimes they're really difficult to love. Ummm...I have nothing.

Do you just wanna smack?

Everyone at some point in the day including myself.

Do you trust?

Trust is one of those words that has levels. Who do I trust not to stab me in the back as I walk down the street? Well everyone mostly. Though I'm sure there are a few that would jump at the chance if given the opportunity. Who do I trust with secrets that have the potential to ruin my life? One person, bff from high school who knows all my secrets and is the only person in the world who I know would drop everything to be by my side if I needed her.

Do you talk to when you're alone?

Myself, obviously.


What...

Dangerous things do you do while driving?

Most times I have kids in the car while I'm driving so I try to act like an adult. However, last spring for 5-months I took on a project that had me driving all over hell's creation on a daily basis. There was an INSANE amount of work to be done in a short time and I was working 12-14 hour days on a regular basis. Early mornings, late nights, no breaks, tons of meetings and my cell phone rang about 200 times a day.  On days when I knew I couldn't be in a million places at once I would take one of the girls from the office with me to help out. She still tells stories of me driving down the highway at 6:00 in the morning, talking on the cell phone, drinking coffee, eating a bagel and yes...driving. She says that I would then put the coffee down and try to reach into my bag in the back seat to grab my notebook. I don't believe her. I mean c'mon...would I seriously try to WRITE while driving?

I actually shudder when I think of this because I think it's true. It's all like a foggy dream. I was THAT busy. I have never worked so hard in my life. I have to tell you though, I would get more work done on the road than I ever did in the office.

Are you allergic to?

Nothing. Not even dust which is apparently unheard of. I am a freak of nature when it comes to medical science. (Ok, when it comes to everything ... really). They tested me before ripping my head open to replace part of my inner ear, thinking it was allergies that was causing my problems. Then tested me again when the tests came back negative for EVERYTHING. Then a third time because the doc was convinced they screwed up the first two tests. For quite some time after, whenever I drank anything it would spout out the holes in my back. My back looked like a fucking pin cushion and it took weeks to get the marker off!!!

Is Satan's last name?

This is a fucking retarded question.

Is the freakiest thing in your house?...

The answer would have to be me, since I seem to have gotten rid of the mice.

Okay, I've decided I don't really like this meme because it's retarded. I'll post the rest of the questions in case you care to partake of the retardedness.

When...


Is it time to turn over a new leaf?
Will you be all that you can be?
Is enough enough?
Do you go to the dark side? (see....retarded...wait it gets better)

Where...
Are your pants?
Is your last will and testament?
Is your junk food stash?
Is Carmen Sandiego? (......told you)

Why...
Was the Lone Ranger alone?
Was The Scarlet Letter scarlet?
Are musicians sexy and plumbers not?
Are there no seat belts on school buses?

Would you...
Swim the English Channel for a doughnut and coffee? If not that, what?
Forgive someone who deliberately hurt you?
Rather believe a lie if it hurt you less than the truth? (I think we've discussed my infinite ability to delude myself)
You still be alive if you were sucked out of an airplane window? (This meme really does suck dirty donkey balls)

Okay, sorry for putting you through that. To make up for it, I'll tell you that I have been asked to join the choir at work . Each year staff and students put on a Christmas concert. We have some pretty talented people around that can rock the house. Each year, a bit of rivallry tends to develop between the men's and women's choirs.

Let's get something straight. I can't sing. No, I don't mean that I'm shy and don't like standing on stage. I mean I CAN NOT sing. I'm almost completely deaf in one ear - and tone deaf in the other. I have a very LOUD speaking voice that makes dogs and small animals quiver in fear. Why these people asked me to join their choir is beyond me. I have a sneaky suspicion they're looking for an increase in their program budgets and think that including me in this shit will soften me up and I will in turn plead their case to the boss. They really have no idea, do they? So they asked, and after wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, I agreed.

The first practice was on Friday. They have now realized the error of their ways but can't kick me out because they're afraid to piss me off hurt my feelings. It is quite hilarious. They tried moving me to the back of the group (all the while pretending they were doing it because of my height, not because I sound like a cat being castrated without anesthetic ) but I'm quite tall with heels on so my voice projects over those people in front of me.  They tried having me just sing harmony but soon discovered that was a total fucking disaster. The proper thing to do here would be to just mouth the words right? Alas, I am a bitch, and derive great enjoyment out of watching them squirm.
 
So I've taken it upon my self to be be the self-directed stylist of the group. Hey, if we're I'm going to sound like shit in front of 500 people, we're going to look good doing it, right? None of this black pants/white shirt combination shit most choirs go for. No no, we're going for the bling. Everyone in RED. There are a few red heads in the group that tried to give me guff about this so I slapped them explained to them that red heads can indeed wear red, they just have to wear the proper shade of red. I then tried to convince everyone that red HALTER tops would be sure to throw the men's choir totally off their game because goddammit I we need to kick their ass this year.  C'mon ladies, we need to work with our god given gifts here. Since I can't sing, what better way to ensure no one is actually listening to the group than having an entire squad of your lady coworkers and teachers scantily clad in bright red halter tops?! Trashy you say? Well ok maybe just a little bit, but it would totally work. Throw in a Janet Jackson moment and voila, no one gives a shit that we're totally murdering a classic Christmas carol.

The girls didn't seem very enthusiastic about this idea. They were all nuns in a previous life have no sense of adventure. So I'm going to have to rethink my look for the group.

Would you wear a red halter top in the choir for me?

LOST

No, not me, the TV show.

I think I've said before that I do not watch TV (the dementia people...you can't expect me to remember whether I've mentioned something in a post last month). However, I do watch TV shows. No, I haven't lost my mind (ok maybe I have but not in this case). You see, I rent seasons of tv when they come out on DVD. Then I proceed to sit on my ass for an entire weekend and watch an entire season of a television show in two days, commercial free. None of this having to endure a week wait to find out what happens next shit. Plus with the dementia and all I can never remember what happened the week prior.

The exception to this rule has been Lost. I was a Lostie before it was cool to be a Lostie. I was there from the very first episode when Jack stumbles around the beach saving lives with his sexy good looks and rock hard abs medical prowess.  I was there when the fuckers writers went on strike and screwed up the entire season. I was a die hard Lostie who would break sound barriers to get home in time to watch my show. Until last year. Oh dear producers of Lost how you have gone astray. How you have disappointed my poor faithful heart. What the fuck do you think you're doing? Who the fuck do you think you are? Ok, the mysterious smoke monster I was willing to let slide. The polar bears in what is obviously a tropical climate I could overlook. The dead coming back to prance through the jungle I could abide. The mysterious healing powers of the island even made a little bit of sense. The killing of dear loveable Charlie almost sent me over the edge but I recovered and continued to watch.

Then in season five you started with the 3 timelines running simultaneously bullshit. Every new episode made me dizzy. It's 1954, oh now it's 2008, no now it's 2003, oh look now it's 2008 and 1977 at the same time!!! Holy hell where's my dram.amine? To make matters worse, you weren't revealing any answers to the mysteries from the previous four seasons (like you PROMISED us you rat bastards), you were just adding more questions.  You pissed me off boys. Pissed me off to the point where I stopped. That's right I stopped watching your fucked up show, take that! Yeah, I know you were quivering in your Prada loafers because you lost ONE viewer. Halfway through last season I said, "Dual Mom, that's enough..no more will you put up with these fuckers playing with your mind and heartstrings." So I stopped watching.

Guess what I did last night? That's right, I rented the entire 5th season of Lost which was released on Tuesday. So instead of Christmas shopping and decorating you know what I'll be doing, right? It's ok though, I still have 13 weeks left before Christmas, right?

Ohhh it's 13 days you say. Oh well, whatever. I'm sure the Christmas Shopping/Decorating fairie will stop by any day now to get these things done for me. No worries.

So the ass-groove in my couch awaits. What will you do this weekend? If you're being all proactive and getting shit done, please lie to me.

Thankful Thursday..With a Twist

I started a post about Lost but I'll save that for another day (I know, you're breathless with anticipation right?) This thankful thing from Daily Dribbles actually requires sarcasm, and hey, I'm all about the sarcasm. So without further ado, things I'm thankful for.

To SWSNBN (She Who Shall Not Be Named), for coming into my life via EX and forcing me to contend with your inability to realize that your wants and needs (when it comes to my kids) do not supercede mine, thank you very much.

To the bank, for actually approving my ludicrous request for a personal loan therby perpetuating my sadomasochist attempts to drive myself into debt for the REST of my life..... thank you very much.

To Boyfriend, for whining about the fact that all my boys want for xmas is video games. Fuck off, they are teenage boys. Your whining...not so attractive.....thank you very much.

To Boyfriend, for leaving his pile of receipts on top of my fridge, for the 6 millionth time. For the 6 millionth time...put them in your goddamn wallet because you know I will throw them out after you leave.....thank you very much.

To the kids, for changing their chistmas wish list 15 days before Christmas. You get that I'm going to kill you right? Thank you very much......

To the city maintenance crew, for your absolutely wonderful fucking job of clearing the sidewalks. No sense in being too motivated, is there? Thank you very much....

To coworker, for the wonderful peanut butter fudge recipe. It's so great that I'm able to whip up an entire batch of delicious fudge in 20 minutes, which I'm then forced to eat because it's there...and we all know fudge goes bad, right? Thank you very much...

To Nygard, for putting this jacket on sale (30% off) 2 weeks before Christmas and leaving me bawling like a big suck arse in the middle of your store because there's no way I can justify spending this kind of money on myself right before Christmas, even though I have the perfect pair of red suede boots to go with the jacket. Thank you very much......

To the hottie twenty-something who flirted with me this morning as we walked into work....and made me feel as though I'm NOT a cow who should be put out to pasture....THANK YOU VERY MUCH (no sarcasm here at all). There are special places in heaven for guys like you. I'll be your Mrs. Robinson anyday. I'm in the groupwise email directory. Ummm sorry Boyfriend, I'll be good now (but I bet hottie wouldn't leave his receipts on top of the fridge).

What We Take For Granted

On my way to work this morning I was running the to-do list through my mind. The longer the list became, the more my blood pressure increased. It's the time of year when Christmas cards wish us Seasons Greetings and we pay lip service to the true meaning of the holidays. Lip service. We're all guilty of it. We become so wrapped up in finding the perfect present, having the perfectly decorated home, cooking the perfect meals, hosting the perfect parties. We completely forget about what is important. Just being with those we love. Making memories to hold close in our hearts. Laughing.

Go read this http://www.cbc.ca/canada/nova-scotia/story/2009/12/08/ns-delorey-dies.html

I'm sorry. If you're like me now you're crying. I know dear blog friends, my heart is breaking too. I can't help but wonder, how many perfect trees, how many perfect presents, how many perfect parties this family would give up to have their son with them this Christmas?

It is the nature of humanity to want more. It's how we evolve. If we could somehow wake up each morning knowing to the very core of our being that this might be our last day, this might be the last day we share with a loved one, how different would our lives be? How much more meaningful?

I'm by no means a hypocrite. I know I will post this post and then proceed to go out at lunchtime to the mall in search of another perfect present. I'll stress and worry about the cost of that perfect present. I'll curse at the idiot in front of me who insists on spending 10 minutes digging in her wallet for the correct amount of change.  I'll flip the bird to the guy who steals my parking spot. I'll continue adding to the "to-do" list until the length of it alone has the potential to drive me into a mental care facility for a much needed rest. I just wish there was a way to keep the image of this little boy forefront in my mind. To remind me that this shit is not the important stuff. The fact that I'm able to hug my kids and share this holiday season with them is what is truly important. The fact that I have friends to sit with in the evening, drinking wine and laughing is what's important -not how clean the house is or how perfect the hor d'ouvres are. 

Nora has a Christmas concert next week. I've been completely wrapped up in how inconvenient it will be to drive the 45 minutes to get to the venue for the concert on that particular day.  Obsessed with finding Nora the perfect outfit to wear.  Obsessed with putting on a great appearance so that all the other Mom's know I have my shit together, swoon over my shoes, and know that I am da bomb.  I totally lost sight of what was important. Being there, so my daughter could see me in the audience as she sang an off key rendition of Rudolp the Red Nose Reindeer. Helping make memories for her so that when she's grown and raising her own daughter she'll be able to say "I remember in sixth grade....." Smiling at her and clapping with glee and gushing over what a wonderful job she and her friends did. Just being....

One of my favorite sayings is, "Don't sweat the small stuff". How do you live that?

So here it is folks. Things I'm not doing this holiday season.

I'm not spending 4 days cleaning my house. Yes, four days. I'm retarded, I do not debate the issue. Rather I'm going to make sure the bathrooms are clean, the floor is scrubbed and the mirrors are free of fingerprints. If the fridge door isn't glistening, that's too fucking bad.

I am not going to kill myself stressing over the perfect gifts for the adults in my life.  I've thought of you, that's enough. If you don't like it, take it back, the receipt is in the box.

I am not going to beat myself up because every fucking inch of the house is not covered in decorations. I will not stay up till 4:00 in the morning hanging garland.

I will not spend a week trying to work around family schedules so that I can have the honor of spending an entire day cooking for them. Everyone is busy, I get that. If you can't come when it's convenient for me well than come another time. You may get a PBJ sandwich rather than a 5 course meal, but I will guarantee there will always be wine and good conversation.

There are lots of things I will do instead.

I will take my kids to the local pediatric unit with a bag full of teddy bears. They need to know how good their lives are.

I will sit with them and play video games, or board games, or whatever it is they want to do, rather than cleaning the house.

I will let Nora run through the house with her boots on because she's excited about playing in the snow. I'll cherish that excitement rather than seeing that the floors need to be scrubbed, again.

I will spend this holiday season marveling at the treasures in my life, rather than bemoaning the material treasures I don't  have.

Rest in peace little James.

All I Want for Christmas Is A Condo in Florida

Dear Santa:

Is that too much to ask for? I mean really, I've been a somewhat good girl this year, I have not committed any grievous sins against my fellow man. I have been kind (sometimes), generous (sometimes), and full of sunshine and flowers (okay never, shutyourface).  My point is, there's a helluva lot worse people in this world than me Santa, my biggest sin being I curse like a sailor and believe children should be seen and not heard (did I say that outloud?)  Anyway, I don't think a condo in Florida is too much to ask for you big fat fucker in a red suit. It does not even have to be Florida, it could be any southern state really just get me the fuck away FROM ALL THIS GODDAMN SNOW. Please, please help me or I'm not going to be held accountable for my actions (like I ever am, really).

Santa, it started yesterday morning. Okay, maybe it started prior to me dragging my ass out of bed at 10:00am, who knows, who cares?  Anyway, it was snowing when I woke up.  As I drank my 6th cup of coffee curled up in my recliner, it was quite pretty. I have a very nice view of the water, (perfect spot to park your sleigh Santa, just make sure it's frozen through, wouldn't want to have to fish you out of the river on Christmas eve) from my living room window, the trees were covered with snow, the flakes were falling softly on the shore, everything had a hushed, calm quality about it.  This is the year I'm going to like snow, I thought to myself. You get that I can delude myself like nobody's business, right?

So the snow was beautiful, yesterday. This morning, not so much. At 6:45 in the morning the last thing I want to do is scrape 3 inches of fucking ice off my car. The last thing I want to do is fight, curse, scream at my car door because the goddamn ice has it frozen solid and I can't get in to start it to warm the fucking thing up. The last thing I want to do is rip my wipers off because I'm too goddamn lazy to completely clear the ice off my front windshield.  The last thing I want to do is have some jackass cockfucker riding my ass during the my entire 60km drive - do you see the ice on the roads you stupid fucker? Do you? Prick - back off my ass I am driving a brand new vehicle and if you ding my bumper I will take you down.  I have three kids in the car and if you hit me you are going to die a slow, very horrible, painful death mothafucka.  Of course I said none of that, because the kids were in the car and it would make me a horrible mother to say those things in front of my kids. Right Santa? Okay ... maybe I mumbled "prick" but the kids all had headphones in and couldn't hear me. Yeah, I get that you see me when I'm sleeping and you know when I'm awake, happy, sad and cursing like a truck stop whore. Whatever.

I know, I know you're from the North Pole and the sprinkling we got yesterday is nothing compared to the blanket of snow I'm sure you have. But you have fucking REINDEER with light UP noses, not a front wheel drive that needs winter tires. You have all that fat and the big red suit to keep you warm. I can't even find my damn gloves from last year.  You have a sled for fuck sakes.  How is that fair?

Can you tell I like snow? Yeah, I figured this would paint a very vivid picture of my love for the fucking white stuff. I apologize for all the bad words Santa, but holy fuck can somebody stop the insanity?

You will argue that snow puts folks in the Christmas spirit. I'll tell you this, I was in no damn type of holiday spirit before the snow and ruining a perfectly good pair of heels walking on the ice hasn't fucking improved my disposition any.  The skiers, ohhhh the skiers. They're flitting around here at work today like someone has handed them a million dollars. They say things like "oh isn't it a beautiful morning" and "oh doesn't the snow just do wonders for your soul". No you fucking fairy, blazing hot sun and palm trees would do wonders for my soul, this white shit just pisses me off. You know the skiers have been performing midnight human sacrifices to the snow gods since the first of November, because that's the way they roll. Shifty lot...

So Santa, I'd like a condo in a southern state please.  I will leave carrots for the reindeers and cookies and milk for you (though it wouldn't hurt you to lay off the cookies a bit and lose a few pounds...hey a bunch of us bloggers are doing a fit challenge in 2010, you're more than welcome to join us).  Send my warmest regards to the old ball and chain, Mrs. Claus. We'll see you in 18 days. 18 days, holy shit, 18 days, must go hyperventilate now.

Love
Dual Mom

Eh? Yeh? Dat? What the Hell?

I'm so glad to hear y'all suffer from dementia just like me.  I was meant to be a southerner I think.  I really like using the word "y'all".  Alas, I'm a little Canadian, but we have some good words too here in Canada, home of the free.  We have words like "yeh", but you don't say it like yeh,  you have to take a really big breath while saying the word simultaneously so it sounds like you're suffering from asthma when the word actually comes out.  We have words like "eh".  This word really has no purpose but Canadians seem to enjoy sticking it on the end of sentences, for instance, "It's cold out, eh?", "That was quite a hockey game last night, eh?", "I bet our southern brothers sure are glad they got rid of that Bush fella, eh?"

Looking at that I guess its' purpose is to turn an otherwise perfectly good statement into a question.  Huh, who knew?

The province of Newfoundland, well they have a language entirely of their own.  You'll hear someone being desribed as "right crooked" in Newfoundland, which means they are cranky.  "Yes b'y" is a term often used to express anything from agreement to surprise.  The word "that" is expressed "dat" as in "Dat dere's shockin b'y".  It really is quite an art form to have a conversation with a born and bred Newfoundlander.  Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form making fun of these people (okay I lie like a rug), Newfoundlanders are the NICEST people you will ever meet, but c'mon y'all have to admit you have some fucked up language skills. Muuuahhh love y'all.

Look what I got today.

I told Daffy since she's broken my "blog award" virginity, she's now responsible for my life...just like the old chinese proverb.  There should be a ceremony so I can buy a new dress and give an acceptance speech.  There would also be a red carpet at my imaginary award ceremony, obviously.

Now if anyone lives near Daffy, you should probably check on her throughout the day. I'm thinking taking dog insulin rather than human insulin has to have some type of affect (effect? I never now how to use those damn words) on the body. Perhaps she'll start barking and pissing on trees.  Just sayin....

In all seriousness, thanks Daffy girl, I will treasure it foreva' (or until I get another award in which case your award will be forgotten like a drunken one night stand).

For reading to the bottom of  my rambling thoughts you get a reward.  Yeahhh you (or yous as our Newfoundland friends like to say)!!  I present to you (by popular request) my sangria recipe.  Now keep in mind this is not out of a book.  This recipe is a culmanation of years of effort on my part. I was like a mad scientist turning my kitchen into a lab complete with bunson burner and glass tubes.  Trial and error if you will. I have made countless jugs of sangria over the years perfecting this recipe.  It required the consumption of gallons of red wine in the pursuit of the perfect combination, this was a sacrifice I was willing to make (okay, it was no damn sacrifice at all, shut up).  Do not use a fine bordeaux, get the cheapest damn bottle of red you can find. A fine wine is wasted on sangria because you're adding shit to it.  You can use a merlot, or whatever red you like, it doesn't matter as long as it's red.  Leftover red wine works great too.

2 bottles of red wine
1/2 cup of brandy
2 cups of freshly squeezed orange juice (I have used concentrated frozen but it makes the sangria sweeter...the freshly squeezed is much better)
1/4 cup of sugar (eliminate this if you're using the concentrate orange juice)
1 cup of sparkling water (use ginger ale or club soda if you don't have sparkling water...it's the fizz that you want..you can also increase this a bit if  you like your drinks fizzy)
3 cinnamon sticks (do not use ground cinnamon .. it will leave flaky crap in your sangria)
1 orange cut in slices
1 lemon cut in slices

Put the wine, orange juice, sugar and cinnamon sticks in a pot and simmer the shit out of it. Try not to boil it because it will affect the taste of the wine. Put it on low heat and leave it for about 1/2 an hour. You want the flavor to come out of the sticks and the sugar to melt. This will make your house smell unbelievably good.

Take it off the stove and add the sliced lemon and orange. Cool it, add sparkling water just before serving. Drink it from straight from the pot the way I usually do put it in a pretty clear jug so everyone can oohhh and ahhhh over how creative you are. Serve cold over ice.

Sangria is a great drink because you can do so many things with it. I once added a crapload of fruit (cut up strawberries, peaches and kiwi) for a summer bbq. I had bought little bags of spice at a craft fair once to make apple cider, and decided on a whim to throw them into a pot with a bottle of wine. OH MY GOD it was orgasmic it tasted that good. That was actually what got me on the whole kick to create my own recipe, because I couldn't find the damn little satchets of spices again.

So go forth and drink.

My name is....huh look at that...I can't remember.

I am so tired I could fall asleep standing up. You ever have one of those days where EVERYthing seems like such an effort and all you want is the day to end? Whine whine whine, I know. I should just shut up. There's starving people in third world countries and I have it pretty damn good.

I swear I have early onset dementia. I know this shit is nothing to laugh at but the thought scares the crap out of me, so I laugh. Isn't that how everyone copes with their fears? Plus the humour to hide the pain thing...it really works, trust me. Who says that it's not healthy to cover up pain rather than dealing with it? Who says that? I'll have you know I function just fine in this manner. Those voices in my head...they're really nothing to be concerned about. Shutup. My sisters and I constantly complain that we have shit for memories. Yes, I can remember how to say go to hell in french, and how to spell completely obscure medical terms, but can't remember my childrens names.

For instance last week, I had to run to the health department admin office. I have been to this office 56,430,964 times. Alot. So I stroll down the hallway with coffee cup in hand and come to the admin office. But wait...it's not the admin office. It's a classroom? What the hell? When did she move her office? Why did no one inform me that this was happening? What the hell is going on? So back to my office I go and I email admin girl.

Hey Admin Girl,

I just ran down to your office to pick up crappity crap and your office is now a xxx classroom?? When did you move and where are you?

Admin Girl's reply,

Dear Dementia sufferer,
I haven't moved, I'm on the second floor, where I've been for the last 7 years. xxx classroom is on the first floor, you were looking for me on the first floor.

I went looking for an office I've been to a million times, on the wrong floor of the building.

One of my drinking buddies coworkers emailed me an xmas reception invite to proof. I send her back this email:

It looks good. Should it be "for some holiday chair" rather than "in some holiday cheer"? I'm not sure, which reads better?
 
She emails back:
Will there be holiday chairs at the reception? You're losing it, aren't you?

I proofed that email before sending it to her. Duh. My response:
 
Can't you see the holiday CHAIR, right behind the imaginary table? For god sakes woman get your shit together.

We leave home before the sun is up in the morning, getting all three kids into the car on time is a feat comparable with Brad Pitt's ability to convince us all he was NOT sleeping with lips mcgee while he was married to Jen (just sayin). So we're in the car (or so I thought) and the boys are bitchin about something and I'm bitchin right back at them while running my to-do list through my head, trying to remember if I remembered to shut the coffee pot off  and I can't quite remember if I put underwear on when I got dressed... as I threw the car in reverse. Both boys immediately stop bickering and shout "Mom, Nora's not in the car!!!!". Here is poor Nora, standing there with the back door open and this shellshocked look on her face. The car didn't actually move, but she felt it when I put it in reverse. This is not funny I know, it could have been a terrible terrible accident  I shudder to think what would have happened if the boys had not simultaneously shouted at me. I'm expecting my mother of the year award any day now. They do give those to mom's who almost run over their kids, right?

When I order my coffee in the morning, I usually order a medium coffee but I have them put it in a large cup. This allows me to run around at work with my coffee and not spill it on myself. This morning I pull up to the drive thru window and ask, "Can I get a large coffee please, and can you put that in a large cup for me?". I was obviously ordering the large because I was traumatized by almost running over my daughter and felt a definite need for an extra caffiene jolt. But the large cup? The poor fucker at the speaker says to me: "You want a large coffee in a large cup, as opposed to what ma'am???" "Never mind, just give me the large coffee please and put it in a bucket if you have to and don't call me ma'am".  Don't worry, I tipped him really well for his troubles.

I was thinking I should pay some bills this evening but suspect I'll fuck that up royally at this point in the day. Best leave that to tomorrow when I'm not scaring the shit out of my little girl and traumatizing coffee boys. Please tell me you've done something so incredibly stupid or absentminded that it makes you question your own mental state.

The Gauntlet Has Been Thrown

Seventeen comments, the most on any post to dates (go away you ho's and male equivalents to ho's that get like 458 comments on EVERYTHING you write and leave me to my small piece of satisfaction). You guys are just fanfuckintastic and have picked up the gauntlet in fine style. I am so hugging all of you right now (and I am NOT a hugger).

I don't normally check my blog or my blog email during the day. Not because I have some sense  of responsibilty to my employer (that would just be vomit inducing goody two shoes), More because I'm usually so busy I don't know if I'm coming or going half the time. Around 4:00 today I had 5 minutes down time so I checked my g. mail. There was an email from Brandee that said this:

Yo woman!


I gave you some lovin' bloggy style at the Think Tank today. I kinda sorta threw down about your challenge! Hope you don't mind! :D

Love!
 
Because I'm retarded and can jump to conclusions like nobody's business, I initially thought she was giving me my VERY FIRST blog award. The thought had me shitting my pants. The truth of what she had done was so very much better. I clicked on her blog and this is what I found. It's on like Donkey Kong....how does she think of this shit? I fully realize alot of the people that read my crap wonderful insights on the world also read Brandee and I'm totally wasting your time by linking to that but whateva'. In posting about my off-handed challenge (and it was totally off the cuff) she has started something which I think is going to change alot of us.
 
When I get excited about something...like really really excited...I spin like an ADHD tasmanian devil. That's it, I just spin the fuck out. I am so excited that so many of you have picked up this challenge. I cannot convey to you how excited I am. I am spinning gals. We are so going to rock the fuck out of the blog world with our fanfuckintasticness. I have so many ideas running through my head I'm pretty sure I can't put them on "screen" yet.
 
We are going to do battle of the bulge Dual Mom style. You just know there's going to be alot of self-effacing, swearing, laughing and all around inappropiate shit involved. We're going to call each other bitches, we're going to curse at our own weaknesses, we're going to encourage each other, we're going to laugh, cry and occassionally shit ourselves. Can you contain you're excitement? I know, me neither. I know you've always wanted to shit yourselves and tell complete strangers about it.
 
You'll be glad to know I'm an organizer. I am going to organize the shit out of this challenge and come January 2nd (you know damn well I'm not gonna make you give up chocolate while your hungover on New Year's Day) on January 2nd the red flag will be waved by yours truly and we're going to make some changes bitches!!
 
We're going to have an "official sign up". We're going to have official weigh ins. We're going to share what works and what doesn't. We're going to have prizes. Battle of the bulge (we need a new name and Brandee is working on a button...eeeehhh we're going to have a button) 2010 is going to be the THE thing to do. We're going to shed the shame of being overweight and we're going to post about our fat, how it affects us, how it makes us feel ashamed and how we are doing something about it because we are fanfuckintastic. Yes we are. I am posting a pic of my sexy legs when I get them back, I know y'all can't WAIT for that. We are going to celebrate bloggy style when each and everyone of us reaches a goal.
 
I'm so buying pom poms. You'll lose weight just to make me shut the fuck up. Just remember, I'm so going to kick your ass in this challenge. I'll feel a tiny bit bad about that, but I'll get over it.
 
This will not become a weight lost blog - I enjoy bitching writing about other stuff way too much to stick to just one topic.
 
So it's on like Donkey Kong indeed!

Oxymoron Much?

Aunt Juicebox posted today about weight, she then asked her readers to comment about their experiences with the battle of the bulge. I typed out a long, self-effacing comment about my experiences, hit post and my comment disappeared. Stupid fuckity blogger.

So as I sit hear eating my fourth first piece of fudge that has barely cooled in the pan before I cut into it I just made, I thought it would be fun to blog about weight. Yeah, the level of retardedness does not escape me. Weight is one of those topics women love to bitch about with a group of close female friends while drinking wine, almost as much as we like to talk about our love/hate of blowjobs with a group of close female friends (usually the same friends in both groups).

I used to be skinny, I think I was two at the time. My mother was obese, 5'1 and over 200 pounds. She also died from a combination of heart disease, blood pressure, and diabetes. Yeah, I have a great family medical history. I lucked out in the height category, I'm 5'6 so I can carry weight better than a shorter counterpart. I was probably 10 pounds overweight when I had my first kid. By the time I had the third, I was 40 pounds overweight. I yo-yo'd up and down until about 4 years ago when a co-worker challenged me to a "weight loss" contest - the loser having to dish up money to the winner. Nothing fires me up like winning. It doesn't matter what it is I win, I just need to win.  So to assist in my endeavour to pound this guy into a bleeding stump of losiness, forcing him to face the fact that I was superior in all things weight loss, I started walking. Let's get something straight here, I fucking hated exercise. At the time, I would have rather chewed my arm off than move out of my own way to exercise. After two weeks of walking, I realized it wasn't really that bad and hey, I actually felt kind of good. The walking led to eating better, because who wants to stuff their face with a bag of chips after walking for an hour.

Then a miracle happened. I started going to a gym. The angels sang from the heavens. At the gym, I started running. At first, it was more plodding quickly while gasping for breath and assuring the gym people that I was not about to drop dead on their treadmill. Then it became a bit more graceful, and lasted longer than 32 seconds. Inch by inch, little by little I became what one would consider a runner. I became a gym freak. I became ... well fit. Not only was the weight falling off my body, I stopped having daily headaches, I was working a full-time and part-time job and had tons of energy. I was going to the gym six days a week at 5:00am (before the kids got out of bed) and I was loving it. I fucking loved it. I was addicted to exercise.

Prior to starting I was wearing a size 14 on a good day. Five months later, I bought a pair of size 5 pants. My screams of joy were heard throughout the entire mall. I'm sure the salesgirl thought I was masturbating in the change room as I shouted "YES, YES" over and over again. I knocked the gym time down a bit and started running outside, going to the gym only 3 times a week to do weight training. I had muscles in my back. My legs could have been used to model panty hose on the cover of Vogue (I shit you not, I had unbelievably fucking sexy legs). I had cheekbones for the first time in my life. I was fitter, sleeker, healthier than I had ever been in my entire life and god I felt good. Happier....I was happier.

Two years ago I was diagnosed with a tumour behind my ear. A six hour surgery saw my head cut open, my ear ripped forward to access behind it, and part of my tympanic menbrane removed (tympanomastoidectomy...it amazes me that I can remember how to spell that but forget how to spell my own name somedays). Me on a morphine drip, the hilarity is still talked about by those who visited me after the surgery. Apparently there was this poor old lady in the bed beside me who had just had her SECOND leg amputated. She was on the phone with her blue-haired, church-going little, old lady friend talking about a Sunday service and how well Father so and so had talked about blahblahhaah. I was in the bed next to her apparently using the word "fuck" and "goddammit" like most people use the word "the".  I remember NONE of it, I swear, it was the morphine.

Digress much?  They had to rebuild part of the mastoid bone with a piece of titanium. I am a metal head...literally. Anyway, the doctor told me to stop running for 8 weeks. The jarring motion was apparently counterintuitive to a piece of titanium meshing into my head. Eight weeks was all it took to lose my love and desire of running. Two years later, though I have not gained it all back, alot of those fucking pounds have found their way home to mommy. My love for the gym is like my love for the Ex....long gone.

So to recap:

If I can go from a size 14 to a size 5 you can too. It won't be easy, anything worth having is never easy.

Exercise is key. If you don't move, neither will the weight. Trust me, I spent 15 years trying to lose weight without exercising, it does not work.

Exercise makes you feel good. I know it sounds like a cliche, but it's probably one of the truest things the medical professional will ever tell you.

When your body is moving, when you're exerting effort and energy exercising, all those shit foods you love so much, lose their appeal. I shit you not.

It is much easier to break a good habit than it is to break a bad one.

I think in 2010 we should hold some sort of blogger biggest loser thing. Who's game? I'll so kick your ass.

I Can't Be The Grinch

I seem to be very Grinch-like this year. I have no shopping done, the outside lights are in a tangled mess on the patio (I'm hoping they'll just miraculously untangle and hang themselves), I scowled at the line of kids waiting to see Santa at the mall. I actually SCOWLED at them. The thought of dragging the boxes of decorations in from the garage makes me want to hang myself right alongside the outside lights. My friend tried to play a Christmas cd in my car the other day and I almost threw her and the CD out the window. Who carries a Christmas cd in their purse?

I need to make a concerted effort to shake myself of this Grinch like attitude. Think of the children Dual Mom!!!! So in that vain here goes a Christmas meme blatantly stolen borrowed from Kys over at this awesome blog.

(1) What is your favorite Christmas movie?

Fuck this is going to be difficult isn't it? I didn't sign up for difficult. Ok, let me think...the one where all the teenagers are in the house together and the ax murder is in the woods...oh wait that's not an xmas movie, is it? Ok hold on...I got it. The one where the detective is interviewing the murder suspect and she is sitting in the chair all sexy-like and she uncrosses her legs and she has no panties on...oh wait...no that's not a Christmas movie either.

Miracle on 34th Street - it makes me cry every year.

(2) What is your LEAST favorite Christmas movie?

Charlie Brown's Christmas. Charlie Brown bugs me, and the dude with the stinky blanket...like what the hell is that? You just know Lucy's a whore, right?

(3) What is your favorite Christmas Song?

Damn, damn damn damn. I'll Be Home For Christmas. It was my mother's favorite song. I remember her singing it to herself with tears in her eyes during the holidays when my older sister couldn't come home. It's a love/hate thing. I love it because it brings vivid memories of my mom to mind. I hate it because it brings vivid memories of my mom to mind. Now I'm going to cry. Thanks stupid meme.

I miss my mother and therein lies the crux of the problem. Every year I try to not miss her, I try not to let this time of year be overhadowed by her absence and every year I fail. I fail miserably.

(4) What Christmas song(s) drives you crazy?

Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I mean c'mon. What's the chances the dude really had a red nose?

(5) What is your favorite Christmas drink?

Ohhh I like this question. Coffee and Bailey's.
My homemade sangria (I shit you not it would ruin you for any other xmas drink....for life...it is THAT good. I could convert recovering alcoholics with this shit it is so good.)

(6) What is your favorite Christmas memory?

Ok this walk down memory lane - doing nothing for my Christmas spririt.

I was 16. My older sister (who was in Toronto) was not coming home for Christmas. She was a student at the time and just couldn't afford the plane ticket.  My mom was raising us (four of us) on her own and could not afford the plane ticket. Mum was devastated. Christmas eve we were sitting in the living room trying very hard  to be jolly and happy. It wasn't working too well let me tell you. The front door opened and my mother, thinking it was a friend of one of her kids, immediately shouted "Take your damn shoes off, I just scrubbed the floor". (Because my mother liked to scrub the floor on xmas eve and she hated when we wore our shoes in the house).

Sister popped her head around the living room door and said: "Ah Mom, do I have to?".  I have never seen Mum so thoroughly shocked. Sister probably sold her body to get the plane ticket home, I'm not sure. Somehow she managed it, and showed up at 7:30 on Christmas Eve without telling anyone that she was coming. I can't describe how happy it made Mum and in turn the rest of us.

(7) What is the best toy/gift you've received on Christmas?

Cabbage patch doll when I was 11. I think Mum sold her soul to get it for me.

(8) What is the worst toy/gift you've received on Christmas?

Nothing, the first Xmas after Ex and I broke up. Yeah that was a good gift. Surprisingly enough, I was so damn happy to be free that it didn't really bother me.

(9) What do you LOVE about the holidays?

Not having to work for almost two weeks ... WOOT WOOT!!!
Sangria

Waking my kids up on Christmas morning, and then forcing them to wait until the coffee is ready before they start opening presents. Their excitement is palpable and I love the feeling of it.

(10) What annoys you about the holidays?

Having to share my kids with Ex and bitch face.

(11) Do you prefer star or angel on top of a Christmas tree? Or something else?

Star

(12) What is your family favorite recipe at Christmas?

Icelandic Christmas cake (another Mum memory)
Cherry balls

I have a recipe book my mother made for me. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it was her last xmas present to me. She compiled all of my favorite recipes from my childhood and put them in this book. Each recipe she wrote out by hand and included some little memory from my childhood at the bottom.

Do this for your daughters when they get older, it will one day be their most cherished possession.

Ok crying again.

(13) Are you a Grinch or a Who at Christmastime?

I'm a Grinch this year, though normally a Who. Do I get points for trying though?

(14) Christmas light displays - Love them or Hate them?

Love them, especially all white lights.

(15) Santas at the mall - Fun times or Creepy?

Totally depends on the Santa. A Santa that reeks of bourbon is pretty creepy and generally makes parents a bit leary.
For the love of all that is holy, don't make your kid sit on Santa's knee if they do not want to.

(16) Christmas cards - do you send them, yes or no?

No, and the ones I receive, I read them and throw them out. My bad.

(17) What is the best thing about Christmas, in your opinion?

Homemade sangria.

Lots of food and spending time with my brother and his family (even though his kids drive me nuts). I love my brother. I love the pics I have of my kids and my nephews hamming it up for the camera on Christmas day.

(18) What is the worst thing about Christmas?

Missing Mum.

Spending an hour on Christmas eve looking for boxes to wrap presents because I don't have my shit together and realize at the 11th hour that I'm short 3 boxes.

(19) When do you put the tree up and take it down?

I'm a real slacker in this area. It goes up the week before Christmas and comes down the week after. Pine needles all over the floor drives me absolutely insane and I hate fake trees even more than pine needles.

(20) Out of the 12 days of Christmas, which day and item would you want your truelove to give to you?

Must google song...just a sec.

Golden rings - but white gold please, I'm not a yellow gold kind of gal. Precious stones in said golden rings would be kinda good too.

(21) Why do you think that Grandma got run over by a reindeer?

She was drunk, obviously.

(22) Who is your favorite reindeer?

Dancer - who doesn't like a dancing reindeer?

(23) Do you believe in Santa Claus?

I would like to, but no.

(24) What is your favorite smell at Christmastime?

Pine trees and nutmeg.

(25) What would make you happy at Christmas this year?

This is just a mean damn question. Mean meme....

So yeah, this worked really well. I feel so much more festive now. Thanks meme. Fucker.