A Festivus Friday Vent

My girlfriend Magz, had a facebook status this morning bragging about  rubbing in  talking about how wonderful her day was going and it wasn't even 8 in the morning.  Because I hadn't yet had my morning coffee, I was in a delusional haze and decided to comment about how my day was also going stupendously.

What an idiot I can be!

Why would I think that I could talk about how great my children were behaving?  Not 20 minutes after writing that little tidbit, they started fighting.  All I hear is, "Don't touch me....give it....stop looking at me....you're bugging me..." (need I go on?)  Also, for some reason, Adam has decided that instead of using words today, he'd much rather just put on the whine.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but whining is one sure way to drive me directly to the loony bin.  I hate it.  I feel myself turning into Gargamel.  It's horrible - but there's nothing that I can do about it.  Me + Whining Children = The nastiest thing you will ever see.

So, combine this nasty freak of nature with my moody husband and I tell you, it was nearly the start of World War III here.  Can you believe all this because I asked him to be quiet during nap time?  (no, conscience, I don't think that the readers need to know that I over reacted to his obnoxious antics and said "If you wake up the children I'll kill you!!!" why would that have any affect on the support my lovely readers have for me??)

So now I'm sitting here, stubborn and angry and just wanting someone (Mr. Delusional) to bring me flowers and say sorry (even though I should be the one apologizing).

The Trouble with my Man

Unless you live under a rock or don't follow me on Facebook, you'll know that Mr. Delusional hurt his leg the other day....here's the story.

A few years ago, we had a bit of a flood in the house.  It ruined the floor and furniture, so we got new stuff.  The new stuff included what I like to call "the one-ton coffee table."  Now, of course the table doesn't quite weigh a ton...but it's built of very, very solid wood and has big old glass panels (and drawers too)...If I had to guess, I'd say the thing weighs a good 80+ pounds.  It's so heavy that I dread it when the kids eat popcorn or something, because it means that I have to drag the thing out of place to vacuum underneath it, and then put it back.  It's heavy.

So, fast forward to Friday.  I'm happily doing a little bit of homework okay then...doing some curriculum research....okay fine - playing on Facebook while the kids were napping.  Mr. Delusional was getting ready for work and came into the room to put his laptop away (on the end table).  He came into the room rather briskly - and as he walked towards the end table, he swung his leg and smacked his knee into the corner of "the one-ton table."

Okay, there was  not nearly enough gasping and sympathy from you all.  So let me clarify a little...he hit the table so hard that he moved the one-ton table.  Yup, it lifted up out of the grooves that it had developed into the carpet and over by a few inches.

There's still not enough sympathy folks.

He hit that table hard; a direct hit on the knee cap to the very corner of the table.  In fact, he hit the table so hard that he took the black off of his pants.  No lies peeps...what I thought was maybe something transfered from the table to his pants is in fact a section of pant where the dye has been removed.  It's a little 1 inch bar of white against the black of his pants.

He had instant swelling -- not a whole lot around the knee itself, but definitely on the knee cap.  He swore up a streak...and seeing him in so much pain almost made me cry.  After he calmed down a bit, he took an Advil and hobbled into work.  I called him a couple of times to check on him, until he said "Please don't talk to me about it anymore, I can't think about it!"


Yup...he was in pain.  But, he was also a man - which meant he wasn't going to the hospital unless a piece of bone was sticking through the skin.

He worked his full shift, came home and iced it (it was still swollen and by then it was hot and swollen to about 3 inches above his knee cap) took another Advil and went to bed.  The next day, he couldn't bend it.  But he still went to work.  His excuse was "it's the long weekend, I can't ask another manager to come in on the long weekend because I hurt my knee."  He did the icing and Advil again when he got home.


*sigh*

He worked again on Sunday and told me that he'd go to the hospital that night.  For whatever reason, he didn't leave the store until 8, and then felt it was too late to go to the hospital, to which I lovingly replied, "Fine then!  If you're too stubborn to go to the hospital, don't come hobbling to me when you have to have it amputated!"  Yup...shining moment for me right there!  I still helped him with the ice and elevation and all that.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that he was unable to get dressed/undressed on his own for the last few days.  I did that for him, too -- cause I'm an awesome wife that way...except for threatening him with amputation that is.

On Monday, I get a phone call from him around the time I'm expecting him home.  He's at the hospital!  Hurrah!!  The doctors looked at it, x-rayed it and came up with this: "you've likely got a hairline fracture of the kneecap - these things don't show up well on an x-ray, so just continue to do what you're doing." (meaning the icing and Advil).  

Don't these guys know anything?  How can you tell a man like my husband something like that?  Do you know what that means?  The next time something happens to him he won't go to the hospital.  He'll just put it off and put it off....and then you know what I'll be stuck with?  Him, hurt beyond what is necessary because he's just too stubborn to go.

Saving my Sanity

So -- probably 2 years ago, I went all Flylady crazy and bought a bunch of her stuff.  The dusters, the "control journal" -- and a little book that she recommended called Saving Dinner.  I browsed through it, got distracted -- and left it at that.

Well -- after being sick of the same meal every week, I decided to give it another go.  I figured I didn't have much to lose.  If you saw my recipe book collection, it would become painfully obvious how many I've tried, and how many I've given up on.  I'm tired of trying and putting all this effort into foods that the family doesn't eat.

So, I pulled it off of my book shelf, blew off the dust and took another look at it.  I'm into week 2 of  using this - and let me just say, this book is awesome!  She has her recipes set in different seasons (so a winter, summer, spring and fall group)  She has a weekly menu complete with side dish suggestions (that's what always gets me when I make a meal!).   She has a grocery list -- nicely divided up into categories for you (such as produce, dairy, meat, etc).  Best part -- So far, it hasn't taken me more than 1/2 hour to cook my meals, they are healthier than anything else they would have eaten before AND most of the time, most of the family likes it.

That's saying A LOT.  You see -- if it were up to my kids, we'd have Spaghetti every night.  I'm lazy - so I'd rather just "cook" cereal.  Hubby's picky and likes his 4 square...it's a never ending battle!

I've been really sneaky with my meals so far.  I've told the family that we will be using this book for the whole year, and that I expect them to let me know what they think of each recipe.   We are rating it on a scale of 1-5; where 1 is please don't serve me this nastiness again!! and 5 is oh my God, I've died and gone to heaven!!  So far, most meals have been a 4.  That's something considering the range of picky eaters that we have!

We've had amazingly yummy things like Tuna Fusilli (sounds horrible, but was so good.  the kids each gave it a 5!), Sweet Bean Burritos, Herb Crusted Chicken Piccata (This was fabulous -- even though it was a little more black than nicely browned -- lol!), Ginger Beef, Romano Turkey Burgers (mmmm!!!), Fish Nicoise....etc...

It's been FABULOUS.  It's been fun to find some of the things on her shopping lists (like Neufchatel cheese....even the deli manager didn't know what it was -- but a quick google search told me I could easily substitute Cream Cheese).  Kale is a vegetable that I'd never heard of or even knew what it looked like -- but  the produce boy showed it too me...I was dubious when cooking it - but it's now my new favorite!

Her book has a bunch of recipes (also quick and easy) in the back for side dish options - BUT -- even better - she has "serving suggestions" listed under each recipe.  Things like "a big green salad and some roasted red potatoes" -- and she has those serving clearly marked on her grocery lists so if you don't want to make something, you can simply leave it out.

The menus serve 6...as in 6 adults - so we always have left overs.  My own family is eating fabulous, but my daycare kids are eating just as well - as the left overs often make it to their plates for lunches.  I nearly fell over when my little daycare girl (a very picky eater) ate 1/2 a chicken breast and a side of spinach and squash and then asked for seconds!

Yup, I'm sold.  I love this book.  I think you should try it.  Give it an honest to God try.  She only has 5 menus/week - so you still have the option to make an 'old favorite' or go out for dinner, or whatever.  So, my lovely readers -- if you'd like to check out the book, the link to it on Amazon is up near the beginning of the post, and my fellow Canadians - you're link is below.  I think the only complaint that I have is that it's written in US measurements (like "buy a 15oz can of ___") where as in Canada, everything is in grams.  It takes a little math okay, Google searching, but is oh-so-worth it.

I lost it...

"I lost it"


You will not believe how many times I have heard that from my sweet middle son.  He loses his pencils, he loses his lunch, he forgets his back pack, or forgets to change out of his indoor shoes to his winter boots...he just forgets and loses things.

Last Monday, he came home from school saying that he'd lost his snow pants.  I didn't freak out or anything, because every once and a while it happens...mittens, snow pants (which all look the same) will accidentally make it home to someone else's house, only to be returned the next day.  So I didn't really think much of it.

By Wednesday, they hadn't been found.  I was irritated, but know that the end of winter is near (and I also have his old pair here)...he was going to need a new set for next winter anyhow...so didn't really take it any further.

On Friday he comes home and there's the normal chaos and craziness that happens when the kids arrive - this day, it's amplified because "Uncle" was here.  We play, we eat dinner and then we need to take Uncle back home.  Isaac gets ready and he's wearing a winter vest with a hoodie under it.  He NEVER does this.

"Where's your jacket?"
He puts on his most winning grin, "Uh....I...uh....lost it?"
"What?  How did you lose your jacket??"
"I don't know, but I think it's on the hill at school."

I'm still at a loss as to how you lose your jacket in the dead of winter, but I digress.  We delay the trip to Uncle's place and drive the route the kids take to/from school.  We stop at the school (at the hill) we look in alley ways, we look on the road.  There is no sign of his jacket.

Yay.

All weekend, the weather has been great, so the missing jacket wasn't that big of a deal.  Yesterday, his job was to go to the school to search the lost and found for it (and hopefully the matching snow pants too!) -- It wasn't in the lost and found box.

Oy.

This morning I wake up and the weather is -10*C (that's 14*F for my American friends) and the forecast was that it was to get steadily colder all day long.  A vest over a hoodie will not do.

So, it's 8am, I'm scrambling up and down stairs looking in bins and boxes and hoping and praying that I can find a jacket.  Every year, I donate their old winter gear -- but I didn't remember doing it this year....the old jacket is nowhere to be found.  I have toddler whining because his Frosted Flakes are soggy, I have daughter whining because she doesn't know what to wear...and Isaac is trying to convince me that the vest will be okay.

I find an old jacket of mine.  He looks like he's playing dress-up.  He starts crying because he doesn't want to wear an "old lady" coat.  A light bulb goes off and I call my friend/daycare mom -- she's got a son the same age as Isaac.  I managed to catch her before she left and she shows up with 2 jackets.  Yay!

I forgot that her son is tiny!  The sleeves are short, the waist is short - but alas, it's a jacket.  Then he goes to put on his snow pants....and I do a double take, "Those aren't your snow pants!  Who's are they??"

He's got someone's size 12 snow pants.  He wears a size 8.  He's swimming in them!  I tell him to make sure they get back to the rightful owner and send him off -- my son -- pants 4 sizes too big, and a jacket 2 sizes too small.

We have another 1 1/2 hours until they come home.  What do you think are the chances that he'll come home with his own jacket??

Mexico Details

I've made a new blog about my upcoming trip to Mexico -- I know that I have other child care providers and/or teachers who follow me -- I thought that those of you who were kind enough to donate would like to know where your funds are going. If anyone is interested in donating goods (craft supplies, feminine pads, or simply monies) you can get in touch with me via my email - delusional_mom @ hotmail.com

chips off the old block

Just a sample of my life.

Today, while cleaning up supper dishes - I was happily singing "Shiny Happy People" (does anyone remember that song??)  After a few verses, Adam looks at me and says, "Stop singing or I'm gonna puke!"


Later on, while having a conversation with my daughter who wants to be an adult so that she can "boss her kids around" (which I do NOT do, for what it's worth!) - she says to me, "I'm not bossy, I just have better ideas!"

Oh my....I love these kids.

I has a stress

Yup - I admit it, I am NOT superwoman.  Today did me in.  Here's the reason why:  I woke up.


This is how my day went today:

• Wake up at 6am.
• attempt to spend the hour before my children wake up getting some reading done.  Failed because I spent it cleaning.
• Make lunches for the kids and Mr. Delusional.
• Chosen daughter arrives for the day, wants toast. I make it. She doesn't eat it.
• Children wake and finally get dressed (after 1/2 hour of nagging)
• feed all the children, get them washed up and out the door for school.
• Search for the walkie-talkie that has seemingly disappeared. (still lost for what it's worth)
• clean up breakfast dishes.
• put in a load of laundry.
• Chosen child arrives for the day.  He's talking a lot lately. 
• Adam and chosen toddler go off in a toddler talking duo.  It's funny/cute.
• Chosen daughter takes them "to the beach" - they must wear winter gear to the "beach"
• On their way to the beach, they find *insert suspenseful Jaws-type music here* an electric piano.
• yeah.  I was thrilled.
• The three children play with said piano at it's lowest volume setting (which is just a few decibels under bleeding eardrums)
• Yeah.  I was even more thrilled.
• They are happy though, and I can tell, because I can occasionally hear their squeals of glee when there's a momentary pause in the music.
• They are all running loops around my basement as they "dance" (hey, it's cold, there's not a lot of things they can do to get rid of the energy)
• They did the running/squealing/high-pitched piano playing for two hours.  Yes...Two Hours.
• Lunch time!  Yay.  Quiet.
• Chosen daughter refuses to eat anything except for her naked noodles.
• Nap time (otherwise known as bliss)
• During nap time I clean up lunch dishes, sweep, put in another load of laundry, finish my passport stuff, print off some papers for school, sit down to finish the Unit I'm working on now...and then relax.
• My tea kettle hasn't boiled yet - and they all wake up.
• They find the piano (how on earth did I forget to put it away??)
• We're back to the piano music/screaming like banshees.
• I lose my patience and shout at them (and take away the piano)
• they pout.
• I feel bad.
• Chosen toddler talks my ear off for the next 2 hours.  Like non-stop talking.  As in never stopping.
• I give up on feeding my kids a real supper and just tell my kids to eat a bowl of cereal instead.
• Argue with Iman about her homework.
• Get invited out to a movie (with an adult!!) - but can't go because hubby has to work late and I'm here with the kids.
• Shed a tear because I know I could have had a conversation that did not include the words: Iggle Piggle, penis or poop.
• Now - I'm simply waiting.  Waiting for them to pass out and hope and pray that I get a little "me" time. God, how I need some me time!

Toddlerized Terms of Endearment

Most families call each other little love names.  My father used to (and still does) call me his punkin (not to be confused with the gourd!).  My grandpa called me his sweet-pea.  I call my kids by their own little nick names - each one has some sort of special meaning for them.

My daycare kids have taken this to a whole new level.  It started on one of the very, very rare occasions that I treated them to McD's.  Adam teasingly called my chosen son "chicken nugget" and since then it's completely taken off.

Our day will go something like this

"Hi, Chicken Nugget!"
"Hi, Ketchup."
"Hey, Mustard, do you wanna play Legos?"
"Okay, Hamburger."
"Hey, Apple Pie - come see this!"
"Wow, Frosted Flakes, that's cool!"
(except they can come up with such a variety of names, it's mind-boggling)

And it goes on and on .  All. Day. Long.

But the best had to be when Adam was snuggling with me the other night.  He's all warm and fresh from his bath, curled up in my lap and looks up to me and says, "I love you, Sippy Cup, as much as I love Iced Tea."

New Layout!

Eeeek!  I'm so excited guys -- I got me a new blog layout that really reflects my personality!  I LOVE it!  I can't thank Miss Nye enough for the picture that represents me oh-so-well, or Princesstefer for taking the time to do the layout (cause God knows, I don't have anywhere near the patience to bungle with all that stuff!)

There will likely be a few changes as I tweak it to near perfection -- but let me know what you think so far.

Morning Sickness Flashbacks

So last night I had a bunch of friends over here for one of those Direct Selling Parties.  Not something I do often, but it was fun.  We had lots of laughs together as mothers...some of us had a few sighs as we dealt with our children who were fighting ...not sharing...not staying downstairs where they belong er...I mean, where they were having fun playing.

Anyhow -- the night went late - and ended up with just one last friend and I sitting and chatting.  For the life of me, I cannot remember how we got onto the subject of morning sickness -- but I recounted the story of my most severe "morning" sickness moment that I had while pregnant with my lovely little Adam.

Here it is for you all to enjoy -- or commiserate with (there may be a bit TMI here -- you're warned!):

It must have been sometime in November.  The weather was cold, but not snowy - and there were still the hard core occasional bikers on the road.  I also can't remember if we were on our way too or from  my mom's house (sorry, these details are fuzzy...the others....not so fuzzy)

Anyhow - I decided to stop at Tim Horton's (that's like Dunkin' Donuts for you American readers) - to get my kids a donut and hot chocolate...I really wanted a bagel.  The thing is, here in Canada, Tim Horton's is a busy, busy place.  This one didn't have a drive through, so I just parked and brought the kids inside with me.  The lineup was long as per usual...and I told the kids to grab a seat while I waited in line.

As happens with long lines, it moved rather slowly.  Someone ahead of me had ordered something toasted -- and it got stuck in the toaster...the faint smell of burnt toast started to waft out into the restaurant.  My pregnant nose smells the offensive odor and my stomach starts to churn.

I shuffle forward a bit in line.

My blood pressure starts rising...and I start taking long slow breaths in an effort to delay what I know is coming....My ears start ringing....

I shuffle forward a bit in line.

All I can smell is burnt toast.  People are all around me...I shuffle forward more in line.  My heart is having palpitations.  I'm swallowing a lot in an effort to keep my stomach contents where they belong.

Finally it's my turn.  By this time, I'm on the verge of blacking out...and my throat is tensing up in the pre-gag warm up.  I order 2 hot chocolates and throw my money at the cashier.  It's inevitable - it's coming.

I dash to the bathroom - there's a line up, I don't care, I bang on the door -- it's locked.  Some woman says (in that Valley High kind of way) "Um...excuse me, like, there's a line up!"

I spy an exit next to her and dash past.  She jumps out of the way (I don't even want to know what she thought about the crazy, rude Muslim lady with the green face running towards her with arms outstretched like a zombie)....

Then, there is fresh air on my face - it feels so good, but isn't enough, I retch....I retch and retch -- into the parking lot - kneeling on the dirty sidewalk.  I see my kids in the window of Tim's...they're crying...I wretch some more.

With those long, puke-filled bits of saliva hanging from my lips, I look up to see this gang of bikers slowly backing away from me.  The big, burly leader of the pack (I'm not sure if he was the leader, but he was the only one brave enough to call out to me while slowly backing away) he says to me, "Hey....you okay?"

I weakly reply, "I'm fine now....thanks."  -- I creep over to a cement picnic table and lay my face on it's cool (and very dirty) surface.  The kids come out with their hot chocolates...my heart is returning to it's regular beat and I can feel my blood pressure dropping.  Mr. Bike Leader says to the kids "Hey...is your mom okay??"

Iman's still crying (but trying not to) pats at my head, which is still resting on the dirty table top, and whispers "you okay, mom?"

I grunt. -- Iman translates this to "I'm great honey, tell the nice biker-man that everything's okay"

The bikers drive away -- only looking back once.  I make the kids drink their hot chocolate outside - I don't know if I'll be able to handle the smell of it through the car.

The whole restaurant is very pointedly watching me... "what's the crazy Muslim lady doing now??"

When I finally feel well enough to make it back to the car, we all get in and I prepare myself to go -- that's when Isaac pipes up..."Mom...you forgot our donuts!"