Merry Fraken Christmas

Let the drama begin. Goddamit.

While I was preparing dinner this evening Nora informed me that SWSNBN said that they will be going to her mother's house for dinner at noon on Christmas day and would then bring the kids into me afterward around 3:00pm.

This will be the third year in a row we've done this dance. The two-step where SWSNBN thinks it is her right to take my children to her mother's on Christmas day and return them to me at her convenience. The third year in a row I have spent the entire month of December vascillating between extreme anger and a desire to just let the fucking holidays be over with so I don't have to do this battle. Why can't she just catch a raging case of gonorrhea that puts her in the hospital over the holidays? I will so burn in hell for typing those words, I get that and am completely willing to accept eternity in the fiery bowels of damnation.

When Ex and I split we agreed that whoever had the children during the week of xmas would have them on xmas morning. This worked in my favor and the kids spent the first five years with me on Christmas morning. I brought them out to Ex at noon on Xmas day because I knew that he (and his parents) wanted to be with them as much as I did. They spent the rest of xmas day with him and Boxing day, returning to me on the evening of Boxing day. Three years ago was the first year they were with him on xmas morning. Everything went fine (besides the fact that I drank myself into fucking complete oblivian on Christmas eve because I couldn't stand the fact that I was completely alone and my kids weren't with me) and they came in to be with me at noon.

Last year, SWSNBN decided that they were going to do dinner at her parents home. She informed me at the end of November that they would not be bringing the kids in to me until after dinner on the evening of Christmas day. You can all imagine how well that went over with me. I spent the entire month of December arguing with Ex (ok I argued and he just responded with uh huh at regular intervals). I finally broke and agreed to let them keep the kids until 3:00pm on Christmas day. Yes, I broke. It was not a proud moment for me.

I have several issues here:

1. Who the fuck does she think she is? I mean how does this equate to being ok in her mind?
2.  Her mother is of no relation to my kids. So how is it ok for me to miss most of Christmas day with MY children so that her mother can spend time with them? How is it ok for their paternal grandparents to have no time whatsoever with their only grandchildren on Christmas day, so that they can spend the day with her hillbilly mother. What is that?
3.  Why does she tell Nora this shit?
4.  WHAT GIVES HER THE RIGHT TO DICTATE WHERE MY CHILDREN SPEND CHRISTMAS DAY?

I'm a good mother. I am a goddamn excellent mother. I could see her reasoning if I was some drug addicted crack whore (no offense to all you drug addicted whores out there) who neglected her children.  My children are my life. While I blog about what assholes they can be, curse and swear about the chaos that is our lives, wish some days I could trade them in for a new pair of shoes, they are my life. They are the only people in this world that I would give my own life for, without doubt or hesitation. I have sacrificed so many aspects of my personal and professional life for these little anklebiters because that's what parents do. As parents, we sacrifice our own lives for our children. Christmas is one of the small rewards involved with parenting and I'm expected to sacrifice that reward so this bitch can have dinner with her mother?

I know you're asking why I don't just discuss this with Ex and resolve it amongst ourselves. Ex is pussy whipped. He's so pussy whipped he doesn't know where his own mind ends and hers begins (or should I say where his penis ends). What she says goes and he refuses to stand up to her. I've told him time and time again - while I appreciate the fact that she is a part of his life, and in turn our childrens lives, I do not appreciate being dictated to by his girlfriend. None of it registers with him. There is no doubt that she would make his life a complete and utter living hell were he to stand up to her on this, but I frankly don't give a damn. Keep in mind his own parents do not get to have dinner with their grandkids on Xmas day because of her, and he allows it.

So what do I do?

Try to make Ex see things from my point of view (again, again, again, goddammit again) and ask him to tell her she doesn't call the shots? I know it won't work, but am willing to try.

Send her an email and basically say what I've said above. It will make her furious. It will cause untold difficulties for months and months to come. She will not forget that I played the mom card and if at any point in the forseable future I need to switch times with Ex because of work, or I need him to take the kids to an appointment, she will ensure that there is no flexibility. I'm willing to take that chance. She will make no hesitation about voicing her displeasure in front of the kids.

Let it go. Let her do what she wants. Typing that makes my stomach hurt and brings tears to my eyes. It's not an option.

Buy a big fucking bag of quick lime and kill the bitch, bury her in the backyard and tell everyone she ran away.

Seriously though, what do I do? I honestly do not know. I do not want to do this dance again. Please tell me if I'm not seeing this clearly. Please tell me if you have some ingenious idea as to how to handle this. I would love to hear from all you step-moms out there. I really would.

I want to be with my babies on Christmas day. That's all I want.

She had better watch her damn self, I am so going to sick my mice on her.

Housecleaning

Well, day two of the mouse infestation and as I sit here typing on my brand new HP (more on that in a minute) one of the lovely critters has just ran behind my bookcase in the livingroom. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck what am I going to do???? This is after being awoken at 5:00am this morning by the loud SNAP of a trap being sprung which I had strategically placed behind the refrigerator. I have decided burning my house down is the only way to get rid of them.

This is my third November in this house and the second that I've had mice. I believe they live in the field behind my house; once it starts getting cold they look for a warmer place to winter. Yeah well this ain't no damn hotel so pack  your bags and move your ass along dear mice, I have enough trouble feeding the human critters in my house. I think it's the boys room that attracts them. It's like hotel paradise for mice. They get in there and immediately text all their friends and family to invite them over, saying "holy shit man, you'll never believe the island oasis we found in this teen bedroom, there's dirty dishes to lick and half filled chip bags, clothes all over the floor to make warm snuggly nests". Before I know it they'll have squatters rights. Maybe I'll just burn the boys bedroom, which would be easier than making them clean it up.

*Sigh*

On the laptop - I bought the HP Pavilion rather than the Toshiba. I had reserached both extensively before buying and actually had my mind made up on the Toshiba, until I got to the store. The HP felt sturdier, it has a nicer keyboard. It did however take 6 years to setup because HP puts a bunch of preloaded crap on their laptops. It's not a big deal because you can immediately remove it once you get the initial setup completed. I will admit I'm enjoying my HP experience which surprises me because I'm a die hard Dell user. Dell desktop at work (various models over the past 12 years) Dell laptop at home. I decided to go with another brand this time as Dell has lost a bit of its presitge over the last couple of years, plus they are alot pricier. So there Daffy, that's the explanation for the HP rather than the Toshiba. Also, go with the 17 inch monitor, it makes such an incredible difference in a a laptop and is not nearly as cumbersome as one would think.

Does anyone know if those high frequency mouse deterrent thingy's work?  They supposedly emit a sound which deters mice from an area. I'm considering buying 16 one but not sure if they would actually work. With my luck I have deaf fucking mice and the little bastards would be immune to the noise.

Also, for those of you that comment (thank you by the way), I do try to reply if you have reply turned on. If you don't, I will reply to your comment in the comment box thingy (is there a word for that?) I think I may have scared a few soon to be new moms with my breastfeeding post. Sorry about that, just tellin it like it is. Though it appears from your comments there are a few lucky women out there that have actually experienced breastfeeding in a positive way.

I'm off to buy a can of gasoline and matches.

Three Blind Mice

There are few things in life that make me scream like a girl. Snakes don't bother me, I had one slither across my foot in the garden last summer and just kept on my merry way. Bugs meet their maker when they dare to darken my path without a flinch. I had to have a cyst removed once from my boob. The doctor did it in his office with a local and I watched him during the entire process. Cutting the flesh, cutting into the fat, removing the cyst, I didn't bat an eye. I am not what one would call faint at heart.

Last evening, I arrive home with my fancy new laptop (I bought the HP rather than the Toshiba in case you care). I am tres excited to get the laptop up and running. Just like a kid with a new toy. I enter the house, flip on the light and see two mice scurrying across my kitchen floor and disappearing into the cabinet. I screamed, I screamed like a girl and then started crying. I HATE mice. Mice are the bain of my existance and make me want to immediately burn my house to the ground and start over new. The little dirty, black, furry bastards are in my house. Oh for the love of all that is holy make the insanity stop.

My kitchen has become a warzone. Today I will purchase 400 traps and set up a minefield for the little fuckers. There will be no escaping my wrath. I will use an entire jar of peanut butter on my 400 traps to entice the dirty little bastards out of their hiding places. I will reclaim my kitchen if it is the last thing I do. Being that I have not slept all night because I kept imagining the dirty little bastards sneaking into my bedroom, which is absolutely ridiculous, I mean come on...what are the mice going to do, attack me? Yes, yes they might, because they are dirty, fuzzy, beady eyed little bastards.

My only problem, what do I do when I catch them? You can bet your damn booty I'm not touching a dead mouse. Yes, I can watch someone cut into my body but I can't pick up a dead mouse. It makes all these sense in the world, I know.

Happy Gobble Day

Wishing all you bloggers south of the border a very Happy Thanksgiving.

While you are stuffing your faces with turkey and fighting with your families, I'm going out to buy this:

Because I like to buy expensive, frivalous items right before Christmas. Plus it's shiny, I like shiny things. It has a numberic keypad....did you catch that?  Did I mention it's shiny?  If the kids don't get one of the items on their Christmas list of 4,564,322 items...well it sucks to be them. Maybe in their next life they'll get a better mother. One that isn't selfish.

Also, almost as exciting as my new laptop and all of you having a long weekend while I'm slaving my arse off at work because here in Canada we did Thanksgiving last month .... almost as exciting as all that- is the fact that it is Amanda's birthday tomorrow. Stop by and wish her well. Don't hesitate to tell her that she's getting old, she'd like that. Amanda, I'll be looking for those pies your sending me.

 

Happy Thankgiving Bloggers!!

Happy Birthday Amanda!!

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

I have been cruising around blog world and reading a few blogs from about to be first time mommies. Now I'm about to rant.

Lactaction consultants are liars. Each and everyone of them should be selling used cars; they lie that well. They tell the about to be new mommy all about the wonders of breastfeeding, how it doesn't hurt, how you will be filled with a feeling of amazement the likes of which you have never (nor will ever) experience again in your lifetime, how you will love your child so much more because you are the sole person responsible for sustaining their life.

Fucking liars.

I hope a lactation consultant actually reads this post because I would love to hear their side of the story. I would love to hear the justification for how they can lie so blatantly to these poor innocent, naive women.

Fear not poor, innocent, naive women...Dual Mom is here to tell you the truth!!

A little history, because there is nothing more annoying than someone on a soapbox talking about shit they know shit about. I have three kids, three kids birthed au natural, no drugs, not even a damn tylenol. I know pain. My third child was induced, my sister was with Ex and I during her birth. She said the first contraction hit, the monitor spiked and stayed that way. It spiked and did not fucking stop spiking. I had one long two hour contraction until the little darling was born. All I remember is biting my lips  - with tears running down both sides of my face. It hurt that badly that I knew if I opened my mouth to speak I would scream, and I would not stop screaming. I cut my lip so severely with my teeth that it cracked and bled for days afterward everytime I spoke. I know pain.

I would rather have 12 induced births than go through the first three weeks of breastfeeding. I shit you not. You might say - well Dual Mom you're obviously an idiot and weren't nursing correctly. My first child, who I had at the tender age of 18, was born with a hair lip. The lactation consultants (after trying to convince me there was no way in hell I would successfully be able to nurse him being that he had almost no top lip) were amazed at how well he nursed. He was a trooper. Three days later the pain started. Each time he latched on I would curl my toes and bite down on a pillow to keep from screaming. It was a pain that radiated from the very core of my body, not just the boob. The pain of my hoo hoo being ripped from tip to tip was nothing compared to the pain of breastfeeding. I persevered, even though I wanted to throw my beautiful little boy across the room everytime he needed to be fed. I persevered. After about 3 weeks, it did get better, it became something bearable, and eventually something that I cherished.

Child number two - refused to nurse off the right side. Again, I shit you not. The lactation consultants were dumbfounded. They had never seen anything like it. So while trying to supply my darling son with enough nourishment while only nursing from one side, the neglected boob became engorged, mastitis set in and it was all over but the crying. Me ... I was the one crying. Darling little Jimmy could not have cared less.

Child number three - my long awaited for little girl. I was older, wiser - breastfeeding would be a breeze. It was, after the first three weeks, after the blistered ,cracked nipples healed. Blistered nipples, yeah that's fun. They don't tell you about that in the breastfeeding classes, do they? Do you know how badly cracked nipples feel with a hungry little mouth attached to them every three hours?

I consulted 4 lactaction consultants with my first baby, 7 with the second and none with the third. They all told me I was doing everything properly, the babies were latched on properly. There was no reason why my nipples felt like they were being drug through the fires of hell each time I nursed. No reason at all. I nursed baby 1 & 3 until they were six months. Baby 2 got the shaft and I gave up after a month.

This is not a PSA against breastfeeding. I am all for the benefits of breastfeeding. It's cheap, easy (eventually) and nothing will get you into your favorite pair of jeans faster. Also, my favorite time of day was at 3:00am, when it was just me and my baby, and they look at you while nursing as though you hung the moon and stars...just for them. What I am against, is the misleading information given to new moms. I am against programming new moms to believe it is somehow their fault if nursing doesn't turn out to be the fairy tale romance the experts make it out to be. For all that is holy do they (new moms) not have enough pressure without "the experts" telling them they're doing something wrong, when in all actuality, nursing just fucking hurts.

So when you hear lactation consultants wax poetic about the beauty of nursing, call them on it. Tell them Dual Mom told you they are big fat fucking liars.

I have to ask all you moms out there, did it hurt you to breastfeed?

Beaujolais Nouveau

Bet you didn't know I speak french. Ok, I don't really besides "va chez le diable" which means go to hell. It's amazing that that is the only sentence I remember from my stint in grade 7 french immersion. Shows you just where my priorities were, doesn't it? Gee it doesn't take me much to get off topic....

Beaujolais Nouveau - I'm sure most of you wine drinkers are familiar with this time of year...it is Beaujolais Nouveau time. The third Thursday in November is when France rolls out Beaujolais Nouveau. Different from other red wines in that it has not been left to ferment as red wines are. In a matter of weeks (rather than years), these grapes are processed, fermented, bottled and shipped (in very limited quanties) all over the world to celebrate a new season of wine making in France. In France, the release of these wines involves celebrations the likes of which rival mardi gras in New Orleans. It is a time of rebirth in French wine growing regions.

The wine iteself, if you can manage to get your hands on a bottle, is as close to a white wine that a red wine will ever be. It's lighter and fruitier than most red wines because of it's expedited fermentation. It is delicious paired with just about any food, or just sit and drink the entire bottle on its own, as I am inclined to do. Make no mistake, this wine cannot be confused with the quality of a good bordeaux...but it's the novelty behind it that makes it fun to drink.

Nouveau wines should be consumed within a year of bottling. Age does not increase the drinkability of these wines (I like that this rule validates my propensity to consume large amounts of wine). Also, contrary to other red wines, this one should be served slightly chilled.

It is one of the items on my "bucket list", to sit in a little Parisian cafe in Burgundy, partaking of the festivities involved with the release of Beaujolais Nouveau. Of course, the only full sentence I can speak in french will not be of much use, unless of course I want to piss off a bunch of frenchmen.

What?? NO Wine!!

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO READ THIS!!

This is WHY I have been such a failure as a mother. I drink wine while my kids are around and I did not make a list of rules when they were born. Damn! Can I get a do over? C'mon...I deserve a do over.

This woman is free to raise her children in whatever manner she chooses. I have no argument with that. However, when you're asking someone else to watch your children for 3 nights, I'm not sure if you have the right to dictate what that person consumes. Yes, you have the right to ask Grandma not to get shit faced and start pole dancing in front of your child, but a glass of wine with dinner is not allowed? I think she needs to accept that Grandma has the right to tell her to take a flying fucking leap off the nearest bridge, that or hire a babysitter. My opinion....for what it's worth.

On your comments to my last post:

Heather - I think you and I may have been twins seperated at birth. I bet we even look alike . You say shit on your blog that gives me the willies because it is so similar to the way I think. Plus we swear alot.

Daffy - As I said in my email, I have fantasies of running a bootcamp for deliquent teens....kick some sense into them through the sheer force of my will. Daffy said it would make a good reality show.

Vinomom - I have a girl...she's 11 and you know the whole world will hear our fights because they will be furious. Why you ask? Because she is her mother out and out. She talks, walks, thinks, like me. It scares the absolute shit out of me. You need to be firm...it's all about being a hardass. Yeah, kids screw up, we all do, but if you're going to mouth off and be rude, there will be consequences.

Jacob - as I said in my email kids these days expect to get paid for getting out of bed in the morning. My children do not get an allowance. They both get copious amounts of money thrown at them by Ex's parents and grandparents. Ex pays them to do things like putting in the wood in the winter, mowing the lawn. They don't need my hard earned money. Damn brats cost me a small mortgage payment just to feed them every month.

Jennifer - damn straight hubby should be afraid of you!

Toni - Are you being sarcastic? You are, aren't you? I don't consider myself a good mom. I think I'm too much of a hardass sometimes. I've spanked one of my children in 17 years of parenting. My oldest (ironic no?), when he was 12 years old he told me to fuck off. I grabbed him and slapped his ass twice with my bare hand. My anger scared him more than my the slap on the ass. Fire coming out of my ears anger. I know, I know, the parenting books tell us we're not supposed to get angry at our children. I should have hugged him and asked him what was making him upset, explained to him that those words hurt mommy's feelings and then given him some money so he could go to the movies. Yeah, fuck that shit. He has never said those words to me again. 

I love your comments. They make me as giddy as a fine bottle of merlot.

I Was a Teenage Asshole

I think I have a realtively fucked up unique parenting style.  I allow the boys to play video games for hours on end.  I let them watch too much tv.  I don't get worked up when I hear the accidental "shit" come out of their mouthes.  As long as their clothes are clean when they go off to school, I don't really care whether Nora's shirt matches her pants or Jimmy's sweater is on inside out.

What I do not tolerate - rudeness. Zero tolerance for rude kids. Kids do not tell me what to do, they are allowed to voice their opinions (and often do) but they are not the boss in this household. Please and thank you are a must. When I ask them to do something, they are more than welcome to not like having to do it, but do it they will.

When we arrived home this evening I asked Monty to take the garbage down to the road for pick up tomorrow. I always forget about it in the mad dash to get out the door in the morning and then it sits for another two weeks in the bin. Do you know how gross that is? Anywhoooo, this is how it went:

Me: Monty, take the garbage down to the road please.
Monty: I'll do it in the morning.
Me: No, you won't, we'll both forget about it in the morning.
Monty: I'm not going to school tomorrow so I won't forget.

Pause.

Me: Oh? Is there no class tomorrow?
Monty: Yeah, there's class, but I don't want to go tomorrow.
Me: Laughing hysterically
Monty: Moooooommmmmmm why are you laughing?
Me:  In what type of warped reality are you living in my dear sweet boy? You will go to school tomorrow.
Monty: Why? Why can't I stay home?
Me:  Why would I let you stay home? You're not sick.
Monty:  Everyone else at school gets to stay home when they're not sick.
Me: If everyone else at school jumped off the bridge, would you? (OMG, I can't believe I said that to him, it's so fucking lame and my mother used to say the exact thing to me and it would drive me into an absolute fury because it's just so stupid)
Monty: Fine than, you can take the damn garbage down to the road.

This is the part where I pull an exorcist, my head starts spinning on my shoulders and vomit flies everywhere.

Me: Oh you did NOT just say that to me.

Monty storms off into the house. I follow. He goes to his room. The other two children are cutting a wide path around me, because they know the explosion is coming.

I proceed to pour my evening glass of wine and start preparing dinner. Monty is still in his room. Jimmy comes out to the kitchen to inquire if I'm mad. His brother puts him up to this. I firmly believe having children that are scared of their mother is a parenting necessity.

Eventually dinner is ready and I call Nora and Jimmy to the table. That's right folks, I'm going to starve the little asshole for being a dick. Monty is a 17 year old boy. Next to sleeping and that thing he does in the shower, eating is his favorite pastime. He is 6'2" and weighs over 200 lbs. He loves his food. Denying him dinner is pure torture. I swear it was purely coincidence that we were having chicken jambalaya...his favorite.

The two kids and I are just sitting down and Monty comes creeping out to the kitchen. I inform him he can sit down with us when he apologizes for being rude. An argument ensues over whether what he said was in fact rude. My house, my food, my rules is my motto. I explained that it is not ok to shout at me, refuse to do something that I had asked him to do all because he was pissed off by my refusing to let him skip school. (I see the absolutely horrid structure of that sentence) Monty is stubborn, I don't know where he gets this, but he's incredibly stubborn. He stomps off to his room and the rest of his happy family resume enjoying their delicious meal.

He does not come back out. We finish eating, Nora clears the table, Jimmy does the dishes and Monty is still in his room. He has enough fat stores to keep him alive for several months without eating. No, he's not fat, the kid is over 6 feet tall and on the wrestling team, I'm not worried about him starving because he misses a meal.

The lure of mama's chicken jambalaya was too much for his weak- ass will. One hour and thirty-eight minutes (yes I tracked every second of it) he comes to me and says, "Mom, I'm sorry I was rude to you", Then he puts his sneakers on and takes the garbage down to the road.

It kills him to say it. I can clearly see that. I thank him for his apology and heat up his dinner for him.

One could argue because it was a forced apology, it means nothing. I would argue that it's more about setting boundaries than the actual apology; about teaching our teens that they cannot be assholes whenever they fancy.  Teenagers have an infinite ability to be assholes if left to their own devices.

I'm sure a child psychologist would have a field day with my parenting techniques.

It Could Work

Received this in my email this morning.

I just love Apple products….

Apple announced today that it has developed a breast implant that can store and play music. The iTit will cost from $499 to $699, depending on cup and speaker size. This is considered a major social breakthrough, because women are always complaining about men staring at their breasts and not listening to them.

Sticky Ho

                                                                       Daffy posted about how much she loves sticky notes IRL and virtually. I bought these stickies for my bestest friend, who also has a sticky note infatuation. She'll love them!

Notes to my Neighbours:

Dear Beethoven,

I have a present for you. Please stop by at your convenience to pick it up. I love your St. Bernard, really I do. His shit all over my front lawn, not so much. You can have it back. You get that a St. Bernard shits like a small horse, right?

Dear Dipshit Neighbour ,

Please advise your child that it is not ok to drive through my flower bed. Obviously this message has not been conveyed when I chased him with a rake.  I have replanted my bulbs twice this fall because of your fucking juvenile deliquent. I will flatten your fucking tires in the middle of the night if I have to plant them again. Don't think I won't. Oh yeah, and it's a total asshat move to allow your son to drive that deathtrap without a helmet on.

Dear Neighbourhood Dog Owners,

Put your fucking animals on a leash. It is NOT ok for my daughter to be accosted by your various mutts each and everytime she plays outside. I'm sure your doberman is the most gentle creature in the world, but when he runs full steam right at my daughter with his teeth bared...she shits her pants with fear. See letter to Mom that lets her child drive an all terrain vehicle with no helmet. I'm serious about the whole flattening of the tires thing. Do not push me motherfuckas.

Dear Nosy Neighbour,

I was not aware we had a neighborhood watch program. Apparently we do because how else would you know (and be able to tell Favorite Neighbour) I sometimes get home really late? I'm not sure why it's any of your damn business when I get home as I have not had to account for my whereabouts to ANYONE in a very long time. Do you sit in your window ALL night? Perhaps to give you something to actually gossip about I'll start driving up and down the road at 2am with no clothes on. Get a life....

Dear Favorite Neighbour,

Thank you for hauling my car out of the snow twice last year. I really am a good driver contrary to evidence indicating otherwise. Please tell me that moving van parked in your driveway last week was just there to help you out with a fall clean up? You wouldn't move, would you? You know winters coming soon, right? I have cookies....

I Read

It's Monday, which means I picked up the kids from Ex today. It also means the drive home was filled with a touch of insanity as the kids all tried to talk over each other to fill me in on the happenings of their lives over the past week. So without further ado I present: Heard on The Drive Home.....

Jimmy: Hey Mom, I made a girl laugh today. I'm considering it a personal victory of sorts. (Poor Jimmy, he's such a nerd, which makes me wildly happy for some reason)
Monty: Jimmy, how do you know she was laughing with you and not AT you?
Jimmy: Eat shit Monty.

I love my kids.

Believe it or not, I do enjoy a plethora of other shit besides slamming SWSNBN, wine and my children saying wildly inappropriate things. Books. My earliest memories involve books. Memories of my mother sitting and reading (how she managed this with 4 children and the upkeep of a farm is beyond me). My love of books came from my mother. So I did a google search for "book blogs" and holy crap, there are a shitload of blogs about books out there. So here is a Q & A post on books.


Which book has been on your shelves the longest?


I have three bookcases in my house. Large, custom made bookcases. I love my bookcases more than almost as much as my children Alot of books. The oldest is a book called: "Bible Stories for Children". On the inside in my mother's beautiful script is: "To my beautiful daughter, may your life be filled with wonderful stories. Love Mom, Xmas 1981" Of anything I own, this book has the most value. The oldest book I have, a first print of the Swiss Family Robinson. I've never taken it to a dealer to find out if it's worth anything because I'm scared I would sell it for a really great pair of shoes, and that would just be an incredibly asshat thing to do.

 What is your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next?


I am currently reading The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson. Next up was going to be A Reliable Wife, but than Friday night I discovered Marian Keyes has a new book out and damn I loves me some Marian Keyes.....the QUEEN of chic lit. If you have not read her, go, do it, NOW. Start with Sushi for Beginners, or Rachel's Holiday...you will laugh your ass off. I promise.


What book did everyone like and you hated?

Life of Phi - oh how I tried to read this book. I couldn't - I got halfway through and felt as though I was being subjected to some sort of subliminal form of chinese torture. And I really wanted to read it because EVERYONE at the time was raving about what a wonderful literary masterpiece it was.

Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t?

Alot of the classics.

Which book are you saving for “retirement?”

I don't plan on retiring. I have this idea in my head I'm going to cash my pension in when I turn 50...travel the world until it runs out and then return to work.

Last page: read it first or wait till the end?

I don't get this....at all. Why do people do this?

Acknowledgements: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside?

Depends on the author, if it's a writer that I have read frequently, I will read the acknowledgements, makes me feel as though I "know" the writer.

Favorite Book?

Gone With the Wind...oh yeah. Nine times. I have read that book nine times. I think we should all go back to wearing corsets (because you know that shit makes everyone look skinny) petticoats and beautiful silk dresses. But we would bathe.....none of that nasty bathing once a month shit.

I read the Clan of the Cave bear series when I was 13. I read Anne Rice when I was 14 (so not appropriate for a 14 year old). I would run out of books of my own to read and steal my mother's Stephen King books even though they scared me so much I couldn't sleep for a week after reading one.

I read The Perfect Match before Jodi Picoult became a household name. She has a way of absolutely blowing the readers mind with the twisted endings of some of her books. I remember getting to the last two chapters of this book and sitting with the book in my hand muttering " fuck, fuck I can't believe it, fuck" as I read.

So tell me, your very favorite book, favorite author? Favorite book memory?

Friday's Tights

Ahhh Friday, how I love thee. Even after working only two days this week my love for you thee does not diminish. I would make sweet love to you Friday, if it were possible. Instead, I'll raise my delicious glass of merlot in your honor.

Wearing tights that are too small is a really bad idea. I like to buy tights at Win.ners. They always have a great selection and brands you can't find at other stores. Does anyone else intentionally buy tights a size too small? Of course the rational for this is that if they're just a wee bit tight, the fat on the back of my thighs will not jiggle quite like the lard ass that I am, the fat on my stomach caused by three pregnancies won't be quite as noticeable, and if they're just a little bit tight, my calves will look the same way they did when I was running 5k a day. So I pick up a pair of tights and flip them over to the sizing chart on the back. Size C fits someone that weighs 130-150 and is 5'4" to 5'7". Even though I fall within the proper height category (5'6"), I know damn well I do not weigh 150 unless I go for three days without eating and weigh myself immediately after having the biggest shit in my entire life, and I have to be naked and have shaved every hair on my body. Even then...even then I'm still over in the weight category. I'm delusional and buy them anyway. Then I wear them, but I wear them on a day when I have a 7am meeting, which means I'm dressed by 6:00 in the morning. I wear them knowing I'm going out for drinks with the girls after work and won't be home before 8pm. So yeah, I wear these tights, knowing they're too small, and knowing I'm going to have them on my ass for over 12 hours. Oh yeah, I also wear them with the highest pair of heels I own, because I'm all about the shoes.

Taking them off feels better than having really good sex while eating chocolate. It's almost orgasmic to get those damn things off my body. Fuck, the girls thought I was laughing at their wit and charm over dinner, but really I was laughing to keep from crying because the damn tights were cutting the shit out of my waist. I felt as though I was being sawed in half. Please don't ask if I threw them out, because I didn't...that would be wasteful. Shut up.

Drinks with the girls was a riot, as always. I love my posse of girls. One of the girls was telling us about going to the drug store looking for menthol crystals. She's been suffering from serious sinus trouble and someone advised her to get menthol crystals, which are sold at the drugstore, and put the crystals in boiling water, throw a towel over her head, and breathe in the steam from the water. It apparently works wonders. So this chick strolls into the drugstore and walks up to the counter, thinkin she's all that because she's discovered this wonderous remedy for her sinus troubles and asks the pharmacist, "Hi there, I'd like a bag of your crystal meth"......

She asked for crystal meth twice before she realized what she was saying.

Amanda dubbed me "confession all star" this week, I feel as though I've won the Nobel Peace prize. Thanks Amanda!
Happy Friday!

Things That Make You Go hmmmm.

Just let me dust off my pretty little soap box here. There we go, all nice and clean. Ok, ready? Let's go!

The cost of one H1N1 vaccine is now at $30 per shot (this is up from the $16 per dose it was only last month). The Canadian government expects to spend over $2 million on vaccines alone. Canada is not a large country.
15 MILLION children die annually from starvation. 15 million....think about that number. This year, H1N1 has killed 6 thousand people worldwide.

Six thousand. We are spending billions of dollars worldwide to prevent 6000 deaths but we have 15 million children dying on an annual basis because they don't have enough fucking food to eat. I am tearing my hair out right now.Yeah, I totally get if one of my kids happened to be in that 6000 I would just drown myself in the fucking ocean and get it over with, but still, how does this make sense?

I was watching as a friend poured an entire bottle of antibacterial hand sanitizer all over her body today at lunchtime and as I looked at the bottle I thought to myself...hmmm, the flu (all of them) is a viral infection, not bacterial. The only thing that can kill a virus is an anti-viral. So hey, how's that anti-BACTERIAL workin' out for ya?

The "experts" are now saying (contrary to what they said two months ago) that children 3-9 years old do NOT need two - half dose vaccines. One half dose will suffice. However, if your child has an underlying condition they should get the two - half doses. Ummm huh? What the fuck? What happened between than and now to make them change their minds? Why two seperate guidelines for kids? Does it have anything to do with the worldwide shortage so they're just saying shit for the sake of saying shit?

I'm not a health expert, I know shit about shit. I do know how to read, and I like to question things without accepting them blindly and unconditionally. I think we all have a responsibility to question what we're being force fed about this whole thing.

Stepping off soap box.

I was back to work after being home for three days. Being off work unexpectedly screws me up. By 3:00 this afternoon I said to my boss, "You know, you would probably be wise just to send my ass home before I do some major damage". I could do nothing right. He just rolled his eyes at me. I love my boss. I was filling out security check forms required by Corrections Canada for a bunch of our staff that are going to visit the local penetentiary (yeah we roll like that at work) and it was really detailed, like when was the last time you shit detailed. So I'm shouting to J in his office - "J, this form has some pretty personal questions on it, are you sure you don't want to fill it out yourself." "No, those forms drive me nuts, do you mind doing it for me?"  Meanwhile I'm sitting at my desk snickering to myself. So I shout again, "OK, what color would you say your hair is?". Poor J....he deserves a better assistant than me. I can hear him muttering to himself and then I hear, "Brown?" His hair is so not brown, it's gray and getting grayer by the day. So I reply, "Are you sure, you get that if you lie on this thing they may have to do a cavity search when you get to the jail." All I can hear is him laughing and muttering...jesus. Poor guy, he must have been a serious shithead in a previous life to get stuck with the likes of me in this one. I have nothing to do with the fact that the man is going gray. I swear.

Lysol is Your Friend

My eyes are bleeding I have spent so much time reading blogs over the last two days. What else does one do when stuck at home looking after a sick little girl? Clean the bathroom....blahhhh, laundry...screw that, clean out the hall closet that can't be opened because it's so full....boring. Thank god for creative, crazy, hilarious, slightly insane bloggers! Without you, you, you and you oh yeah and you and you I would have gone completely batshit crazy over the past two days.

Oh how is the anklebiter? Well, a year ago I would say that she was suffering from a bad cold that has kicked the crap out of her. Today, well it could be swine/avian/black plague. Who knows? High temp, a cough that sounds as though she has a broken muffler in her chest and a headache. I must admit it has been several years since I have seen her knocked on her ass like this. The fact that only last week I was bragging to all the world about how healthy my kids are....yeah the irony has not escaped me. Anyway, she has been handed off to her father. I was expecting SWSNBN to answer the door in full hazmat suit. I would have taken a pic for you all. Unfortunately the opportunity to have the entire blog world make fun of her did not present itself. Though she did tell me she had phoned 5 different clinics today to find out what to do with sick Nora. All five told her the same thing: do not bring her to a clinic unless her temp is over 104 for a prolonged period...or she starts turning blue because she can't breathe. No brainer right? You would think so. SWSNBN felt the need to hear this from five different clinics. The definition of insanity is .......ah hell her craziness isn't worth the keystrokes.

Right now I am watching ETalk. This Biggest Loser show they talk of... that's some crazy shit. One of the contestants had to be airlifted to the hospital after running on the beach? Holy shit. I do not have satellite/cable tv. I have one television channel. Pick your chins up off the floor....I'm sure I'm not the only one. So I hear of all these reality tv shows and when I see clips on a news show or Etalk, I'm completely fascinated. People will do just about anything in front of millions of viewers, won't they? So yeah, I'm totally uncool when it comes to reality tv. I can't tell you who the last Bachelorette was, the winner of last season's Big Brother, or the Biggest Loser. I suppose it's not a lot different than writing about your daughter being sick and posting it for two people the world to read. We all have a bit of the voyeur in us.

This is not to say I do not watch tv. I rent entire seasons of tv shows when they come out on dvd. You see, I love tv without commercials (apparently a new fangled device called Tivo is now available and you can record and skip right through the commercials). I love not having to wait an entire week before finding out what happens. Yeah, I'm always a season behind but whatever, does not bother me.

Daffy commented on my last post that I should send my letter to the paper. Ha, I actually did that once, had a letter to the editor printed by the paper. I sent in a rant about Canada Post to our local paper and holy shit knock me over with a feather didn't they go and print it. I was surprised after it was printed that my mail didn't suddenly start appearing in some obscure village in China....it was not a nice letter. (yeah I totally see the fucked up grammar of that entire paragraph....sue me)

Well, an entire post about absolutely nothing. I should go and lysol my house, or watch Season 1 of the Tudors.

Hope everyone is healthy!

Letter to the Editor

Dear Media:

I hate you. It's quite simple. I hate you. I know I should not hate, the emotion makes one weak. I know it is your lot in life to be such an attention whore. Oh but I loathe thee with a passion. You see dear media, you have turned an otherwise rational, level-headed mother into a stark raving lunatic that has lost all commen sense and ability to deal with her child's illness in a calm, rational manner.

My darling Nora complained of a headache this morning. I am a compassionate, loving mother therefore I told her to suck it up and go play. This afternoon she started coughing. In my seventeen years of parenting I have dealt with a plethora of childhood illnesses, ranging from the simple common ear infections to a rather life threatening episode of encephalitis. I laugh in the face of a pesky cough. hahahah Take that damn cough. I will pump my daughter full of ben alyn and ye shall be gone forevermore.

Well dear media, I am not laughing now. You see my lovely daughter fell asleep on the couch this evening. When I woke her to go to bed, I realized she was incredibly warm. Really really warm. It took me 20 minutes to find my thermometer, as it has been well over two years since I have required its use.

Her temperature is 103.3. Headache, cough, high temp - holy flying fuck.

It is your fault dear media that I am now sitting beside my sleeping daughter at midnight. I am wide awake rather than getting some much needed shut eye. You see dear media, you have managed to scare the shit out of every parent in the world, turning each and every one of us into cyberchondriacs. Otherwise rational mommies have now started stockpiling thermometers and children's ad vil. I had to go to three different pharamacies to find liquid ty lenol. The pharmacist at one store visibly stepped back from me when I told her my daughter had a cough and high temp. You have gleefully bombarded us with stories and pictures of grieving parents who have lost their children to the dreaded H1N1 and we in turn have lost all ability to act as an intellectual society. A simple childhood flu is no longer simple. I now sit here listening to my daughter breathe, holding my hand to her wrist to ensure her pulse remains steady and strong. You have turned an otherwise calm, rationale mother into a blithering raging, overreacting, lunatic. For that dear media, I hate you. The depth of my loathing takes my breath away.

I know whatever it is my daughter is suffering from will run its course and she will be fine. However, I wish a raging case of chlamydia on each and every one of you fucking media types.

Cordially yours,
Dual Mom

Babysitting

On the drive home Thursday evening, we somehow got onto the topic of purberty. I do not know what precluded this conversation or how we got there. Like the conversations where my son refers to being homesexual, it just seems to happen. So we're talking about purberty. Jimmy figures he'll get a dig into Nora and says to her: "You don't know what you're talking about Nora, you haven't even hit purberty yet." She replies (without missing a beat), "Yeah, for all you know I'm wearing a tampon right now". Jimmy covered his ears and started screaming. That'll learn ya Jimmy not to mess with your sister.

I was suffering from the wine flu earlier in the week and agreed to babysit my two nephews TODAY. I had forgotten (or blocked it) all about this until my SIL called last night to tell me they will be dropping the boys off today at 9:00 am. That's right folk, 9:00 am. My kids are older, there's no need for me to be up and about at such an ungodly hour on the weekends. The boys sleep till noon anyway and Nora is quite self-sufficient. Oh, did I mention I agreed to keep their hound from hell adorable 7 month puppy too? I was obviously suffering from a temporary mental breakdown. This is the same dog that required me to loan brother and SIL $1400 two months ago, so they could remove the obstruction from his bowel. He had eaten the styrofoam tray from the garbage. Pretty sure he's not going to survive his day with Auntie Dual Mom.

So here I am. Waiting for the invasion of my home. First they'll want to wake my boys up because all the good stuff is in the boys' room. Now, my boys are teenagers. On the weekends, bedtime is whenever they fall asleep with the xbox controler in their hand, drool running down the side of their mouth because their minds are numb from playing video games. Chances are they're not going to appreciate two energetic little boys and their hound from hell waking them at 9:00am. Will I prevent this from happening? Nahh I'll consider it good solid entertainment, I'm just that type of Mom. Then my boys will be forced to entertain these two little boys for the next three hours. The little ones will have unrelenting questions about the games Jimmy and Monty are playing. They'll nag the boys to play with them, they'll ask, and ask, and ask, until finally my boys throw up their arms in defeat and agree to play with the little ones. heheheh Throw the hound from hell into the mix eating socks from their bedroom floor and it should make for an all around exciting day.

Nora is at this very moment cleaning their bathroom. I did not ask her to do this. I heart my daughter.

I just realized I haven't used the f word once in this post. Miracles do happen.

Happy weekend everyone.

I KNOW This Flu Intimately

Received this in my email this morning:

Flu Warning IMPORTANT INFORMATION

I went to a dinner party last night, where I and other guests enjoyed copious amounts of alcohol. I awoke this morning not feeling well, with what could be described as flu-like symptoms; headache, nausea, chills, sore eyes, etc.

From the results of some initial testing, I have unfortunately tested positive for what experts are now calling Wine Flu.

This debilitating condition is very serious - and it appears this is not an isolated case. Reports are flooding in from all around the country of others diagnosed with Wine Flu. To anyone that starts to exhibit the aforementioned tell-tale signs, experts are recommending a cup of tea and a bit of a lie down. However, should your condition worsen, you should immediately rent a DVD and take some Advil . Others are reporting a McDonald's Happy Meal can also help in some cases. If not, then further application of the original liquid, in similar quantities to the original dose, has been shown to do the trick.

Wine Flu does not need to be life threatening and, if treated early, can be eradicated within a 24-48 hour period.

NOTE

If you find you are complaining a lot, it may be that it has mutated into Whine Flu. This is particularly common in men and can quickly spread to their partners where the symptoms are detected as a serious case of eye-rolling.

The World is Going to Hell in a Handbasket

Copied from Sun-Times

Best Buy is selling a transmitting device that lets parents keep track of their children. Parents can place the device in a child's backpack or lunch box, for example.



The "Little Buddy Child Tracker" retails for $100 (far less than other devices that sell for $200 to $500). It combines global satellite positioning and cellular technology to signal the child's whereabouts to a computer or smartphone.


Parents can program the device to set up specific times and locations where the child is supposed to be -- in school or at home, for example -- and the device sends a text message if the child leaves the site in that time.

I don't know what disturbs me more, the fact that such a device exists or that the Little Buddy is one of several available on the market. Okay, if you're a parent that would actually purchase such a device, you should probably just hit the little x right up there in the right hand corner of your screen (or the left if you happen to be a mac user). I'm pretty sure the rest of this post will offend the fuck out of you.

What the fuck is happening to our society? My eyes are bleeding and I may go drown myself in the river after reading this. I'm not sure if the main goal of such a device is to protect children from the boogy man or to prevent parents from having to teach their children that they cannot do whatever the fuck they want whenever they want without repercussions.

Why does an 8 year old kid need a cellphone? Is their posse that large they need to track them using an address book?

Is it necessary for EVERY 16 year old in the world to own their own car? I used to hitchhike. Yep, that's right, if I wanted to get my ass into my friend's house I hitchhiked. Of course I would never condone this for my own children. I was never what one would consider a delicate flower. I'm sure my loud voice and non stop chatter put any thoughts of child abduction right out of the head of anyone with nefarious ideas. Plus I was a really ugly teenager.

Birthday parties for 10 year old girls at beauty parlors. SWSNBN had one for Nora last year. She arrived home looking like Joan fucking Rivers and had that much perfume on that she smelled like a whore in distress. What is that? This is fun? What happened to sleepovers where little girls stay up all night giggling and talking about boys?

Not failing kids in school. Oh I could write 647 posts about the absolute fuckedupness of this? The premise being that failing children in grade school diminishes self esteem. Tell me this - what does it do to a 16 year old's self esteem when he gets to high school and can only read at a grade 7 level? Do you know what happens to these kids -they realize when they are about 13 or 14 that they do not have to work, they do not have to study, they do not have to try, because ya know what, no one is going to do a good goddamn thing about it.

So tell me, did you ever hitchhike? Do your kids have cellphones? Am I just uncool dear interneters?

Can Open....Hello Worms

Well, I've done it. After 8 years and having to get a prosthetic tongue from biting it so much in my dealings with SWSNBN- I have openly pissed her. I feel as though the apocalypse is about to start. Curiously, another feeling I have, is relief. I feel as though a weight has been lifted. I feel as though I have finally stood up to the classroom bully.

In my Swine post, I outlined the argument over vaccines. It was never really resolved and last week was the first week in over seven years I have not received an email from SWSNBN regaling me with some story of her wonderful mom prowess.  I knew she was upset that I was making an executive decision regarding the vaccines. No, not upset - she was pissed. I mean c'mon - how dare I, right? How dare I decide on matters involving my childrens health without deferring to her. Take me now and burn me at the damn stake for my audacity people!!!

I had sent her an email on Thursday asking her to send the boys school newsletters home. Let me explain why I had to do this. The children get off the bus at their father's. She ensures that all school notices are left there for their father to read. This is about control, it has very little to do with keeping their father informed. For some reason, the school newsletters never make it back into the kitbags and into my place. I don't give a shit, it's all online and I make a point of checking it. In her mind, having the news from school and keeping it from me, gives her one up on me. She is then able to email me at 4:00 on the day Nora or one of the boys is supposed to be at an activity and say, "Oh by the way.....they'll be later, or I just got back from such and such or whatever" Anyway, she did not email me back. Not a word, nor have I seen the newsletters (which were not put online this month for some reason, hence my asking for them) The radio silence on her end confirms the fact that she is UPSET with me.

We now interrupt this regularly scheduled program to allow Dual Mom to have a stroke. The emails are coming in from her as I sit writing this post. Wait until I show them to you, I'm so glad I can entertain you folks this fine morning.

So driving the kids to school this morning I'm mumbling to myself about a dentist appointment Nora and Jimmy have tomorrow afternoon. Ex knows the appointment is coming up as I had asked him (two weeks ago) if his mother could take the kids to it (she often has Wednesday off). She couldn't so I told him I would get the time off work. Case closed. Monty pipes up and says, "SWSNBN is getting her mother to take them to the appointment". 

I'll give you a moment to allow that to digest. I do not even need to tell you all the things wrong with this.
I arrive at work and send this:

Hi SWSNBN:

Monty told me this morning you have made plans to have your mother take the kids to their dentist tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know that I have this taken care of and will be picking them up.

Also, Jimmy is home sick today. I'm not sure if he's actually sick or just didn't feel like going to school. If he is actually sick I'll be canceling the appointment anyway.

Just thought I would let you know, would hate to have your mother show up to their schools and them not be there!

Talk soon
Dual Mom

 
I'm seething while writing this but think I managed to be respectful and polite, right?
 
I get this back not two minutes later:
 
Fine
 
Mom took them before so I figured it was easier as we all work.
 
So all the kids are are going to miss school?
 
There's no opening salutation, there's no closing, she is PISSED at me. This is NOT how she commicates with me. Her emails are generally so long and drawn out that I'm ready to drive a sharp instrument into my jugular by the time I finish reading them just to make the pain stop.
 
I reply with this:
 
I kept Jimmy home today. The other two are gone to school. As I said, I'm not 100% sure that he is in fact sick but didn't want to send him to school just in case.
 
I had no idea you had made plans for your mom to take them so I already cancelled two meetings and made arrangements to be out of  the office tomorrow afternoon.
 
Dual Mom
 
Her reply:
 
And FYI
I did not make plans. Ex wanted me to ask her as Nanny (Ex's mother) has to work.
 
Trying to make easy for everyone.
 
My response:
 
SWSNBN - I get the distinct impression you're upset with me. My intention here is not to upset anyone. Ex should have communicated this to me. I had no idea he had made these plans, but that's a discussion I'll have with Ex.
 
I appreciate you trying to make things easy! I really do.
 
Dual Mom
 
Then I get this:
 
I am sorry but you made it sound as though I had made these plans all on my own.
I just wanted to clear it up as it was Ex's decision to call Mom.
As long as they get there, I am happy. Nora is probably going to need her tooth out as well. It is growing in crooked.
I think you should call Ex as we all feel that the kids should have the H1N1 vaccination.
All of us in the house are getting it, even Ex. You can discuss that with him.
 
So obviously we both have our back up and just need to calm down, right? It was Ex that instigated the call to her mother. What I find ironic is that she can inform me my daughter has a crooked tooth (obviously I've lost my eyesight and can not see this for myself) but she can't inform me she has asked her mother to take my kids to the dentist? What's up with that? I'm ready to start biting my prosthetic tongue again and let sleeping dogs lie when I get this:
 
Oh.
 
I phoned the school today to let them know I will pick up Nora after school.
She has homework club today so I will pick her up at 4:00. 
 
Please excuse me while I go bang my fucking head against a wall just to make the insanity stop. DID WE JUST NOT SPEND THE LAST HOUR TALKING ABOUT THIS EXACT THING!?!?!?
 
Please dear interneters, help me make sense of this. My instinct is to lose my shit and just go ballistic on her ass. To what end though?  She obviously doesn't get it...
 
Teetering on the edge....
Dual Mom

A Study of Contrasts

My life last Monday (because I know you care):

5:00am    Drag my fat ass out of bed, stub toe on corner of the bed, curse, make my way to the coffee maker, spill old coffee grinds onto the floor while trying to dump them in the compost, curse, get coffee brewing, curse
5:04am    Drink a pot few cups of coffee while reading the news online to ensure the world did not spontaneously combust while I slept, curse because it didn't and now I actually have to go to work
5:25am    Hop into the shower to wash aforementioned fat ass
5:35am    Stand in front of the mirror examining the wrinkles and gray hair that seemed to have multiplied overnight, try to cover said wrinkles with makeup and gray hair with blowdryer and hairspray, curse because it doesn't really work
6:00am    Wake up the spawns of satan children
6:02am    Throw bread on the table for breakfast
6:04am    Shout from the kitchen, "If you're not out of bed in 30 seconds I'm coming in with the ice water". I'm very warm and loving. Curse
6:15am    The next 20 minutes involve  Nora screaming because her blue sweater is in the washer, andohmygodmyworldiscomingtoanendandyouaretheworstmotherintheentireworld, the boys stand posed to duck when her head explodes
6:45am    Everyone dressed, fed and into the car
6:55am   Stop for gas because fuckity fuck the tank is empty.
7:15am    Drop kids off at their dad's, Nora's other personality has taken over and she kisses me goodbye
7:40am    Arrive at work and drive around the block for 10 minutes looking for a parking spot, curse
7:50am    Work
work, work, work, curse, work, work
5:00pm    Leave work
5:05pm    Star. bucks stop for white chocolate mocha..........awww sweet mother of god they are so good
5:15pm    Arrive home. Silence. Sit missing children.
5:17pm    Pour wine
5:18pm - 10:00pm Drink wine, chat on phone, paint nails, read a book, read three years of blog archives on various blogs, drink wine, write a blog post, feed the neighbour's St. Bernard, iron favorite white shirt for the morning, crawl into bed with a new book.

This Monday:

6:50am     Drag my fat ass out of bed, stub toe on corner of the bed, curse, make my way to the coffee maker, spill old coffee grinds onto the floor while trying to dump them in the compost, curse, get coffee brewing, curse
6:54am    Drink a pot few cups of coffee while reading the news online to ensure the world did not spontaneously combust while I slept, curse because it didn't and now I actually have to go to work
7:11am    Hop into the shower to wash aforementioned fat ass
7:21am    Make-up, hair, get dressed
7:41am    arrive at work blah blah blah blah
5:00pm    Leave work to pick up kids
5:25pm    Arrive at Ex's, toot horn, drum fingers impatiently on steering wheel
5:27pm    Drive home with kids. I like this drive, I get stories from the previous week. This evening's drive involved me explaining to the kids why I did not want them receiving the H1N1 vaccine (oh you damn well knew it wasn't finished with) She who shall not be named is PISSED off at me.

Also heard on the drive home:
Jimmy: Hey Mom I have a joke - but it has the "F" word in it - it's not nearly as funny without the "F" word - can I tell it to you please?
Disclaimer - Monty and Jimmy will both use the word shit under their breath. I have no doubt they drop the f bomb all the time, they do not do it in my prescence, they know better. Yes I'm a fucking hypocrite. I digress....
Me: Sure Jimmy, curse you're face off.
Jimmy: Ok, so the big bad wolf and the three little pigs meet up one fine afternoon and the big bad wolf says to the three little pigs - "Look out little piggies, I'm going to huff and puff and blow your house down". To which the three little pigs reply: "Yeah well fuck that, we're going to sneeze on you"

I almost went off the road I laughed so hard. Obviously, the ole swine flu is garnering a bit of attention at the high school these days.

5:58pm    Arrive home

6:00pm - 8:00pm Start supper, pour glass of wine, fold laundry from dryer, put another load in washer, stir pasta, ask kids to come and get folded laundry, change out of work clothes, empty dishwasher, scream at kids to come get folded laundry, curse, smell wrinkled favorite white shirt to make sure it's clean enough to wear to work, curse at St. Bernard to go home and eat at his own damn house, stir pasta sauce, open can of peas knowing the little shits won't eat them, curse, lose my shit over having to ask the kids a third time to come and get laundry, holyfuck I could really do with another set of hands right now, start Nora's homework, sign Jimmy's permission slip for a field trip, go over Monty's test he had written last week, spill hot pasta sauce on barefoot, curse, supper on table, eat, chat, Nora cleans off table, Monty does dishes, Jimmy takes out garbage and I can pretty much guarentee they're all cursing (in their heads of course) that I actually make them do this. Because I'm the mom from hell dontcha know? I change clothes from washer to dryer, wipe up cupboards, sweep floor, cut up fruit for a fruit salad. MontyJimmyNora get in the shower, MontyJimmyNora pick up your damn towels off the bathroom floor. MontyJimmyNora stop fighting. MontyJimmyNora what the hell are you fighting over? MontyJimmyNora for the love of all that is holy please stop my ears are bleeding and I am going to sell all of you to the gypsies if you do not stop fighting.

At 8:00 I sit my fat ass down. Nora is sitting in my place on the couch and I ask her nicely to move. She does so while laughing "You're going to be sitting in the wet spot Mom" No you bunch of sick perverts, not that wet spot, the wet spot caused by her freshly washed hair resting on the back of the couch.

It takes me a day or two to get back into the swing of things when the kids return. Is it any wonder I use the handle Dual Mom? Happy Monday everyone.

Table Conversation Anyone?

I insist on eating dinner around the table. When my brother and his family arrived for Thanksgiving dinner (which was several weeks ago because I'm from Canada eh) the first thing out of my sister-in-law's mouth upon entering the house was, "Oh we're eating at the table?" Umm...as apposed to the floor, would you prefer I just set out troughs and throw the food at ya? When we're done eating we can just haul ass out to the front yard and hose each other off. I even go as far as to use a tablecloth. Apparently I'm one of a dying breed. People don't eat dinner at the kitchen table anymore. Jimmy was at a friend's house over the weekend and he said everyone laughed at him when he grabbed his plate of pizza and sat at the table. We tried it once, eathing in the living room, watching tv. We didn't like it. The kids said it felt "weird". Yes, I'm raising freaks of nature.

One evening as we were sitting down for dinner, Jimmy asked Nora something about her ipod. She replied with a bitchy tone of voice and Jimmy immediately brought her to task for it. Rather than have this explode into WWIII where I'm physically restraining the holy terrors, I intervened and explained to Jimmy that I did not think Nora had meant her reply to come out as snarky as it sounded, though sometimes a girl's tone of voice could be construed as such (how fucking lame am I). Jimmy didn't buy it and replied, "That's not a valid excuse for being a bitch Mom, you know sometimes I think it would be easier to be a homosexual".  Whatever I was drinking at the time immediately spewed out my nose in my effort not to laugh. This kid says the damndest things that make me absolutely piss myself. The kid is 15. And he's right, isn't he? I've often said it. Unfortunately I like the male body way too much to be a lesbian.

Yes, my son said bitch. I don't know where he learned such language.