Right Now

There are Five boys in the basement. It smells like puberty. I swear.

Memory #34

The Mixed Tape. Year: 1995. When CDs were just coming into style and double-cassette decks still populated most houses and the era of mixed tapes was about to die. This is the year I got my first and only mixed tape: From a Boy. My City Cousin and I would exchange mixes once in a while (an expression of my late eighties/early nineties tastes I will Never Ever Live Down as I gave her nothing but Guns'n'Roses in exchange for nothing but The Smiths) but that didn't count. Cause we were related and she wasn't a boy. And she was giving me music out of what I can only assume was pity (and a kind attempt to make me less lame) while he was giving me music to get in my pants. Oh the romance. Once in a while I come across a song from That Mixed Tape and I'm forced to remember the Only Mixed Tape I Ever Got From a Boy. And oh that boy. That was before we fell in love with Velvet Underground and banana pancakes and other people. And before the Celestine Prophesy (yes, I'll have some cheese with that cake) and before Chabbits (a chicken + a rabbit), before I understood just how damn scared I was and before the Only Poem Ever Written Just for Me. Oh that boy. Used to send me letters on things he found in the street. And hitch-hike across the country and materialize at my window. It was also the first time I heard a recording of Here Comes the Sun. And when I hear it now, I think about waking up on the beach to the sound of the PEI ferry docking and chasing airplanes out of the sky and calling my mother asking her to put some chips (and antibiotics) on the evening boat to the island cause I was SO Hungry (nothing has changed really) and that it burned when I peed. I wish I still had that tape. But it was lost 10 hundred years ago during my Famous Exodus of 1999 when I left all my belongings to someone else. Oh well.

The Eve before several days of Single Parenting: AKA the revenge Trip

I'm hardly mature enough to be in-charge. I miss my mommy.

To do:

1. pray (for forgiveness, an early spring, instant potty training, a coma), extra hard.

2. buy all the groceries. In K-town.

3. and most of the alcohol

4. stop thinking about the always-on (since last week) Check Engine light in the car

5. Put all my back-ups (babysitters) on Call.

6. wonder the streets aimlessly, alone, in the dark

7. Rent 10 hundred movies

8. eat a bag of chips (you know, to calm my nerves)

9. sleep in (till 8 am)

10. take an afternoon nap without Risk (of death, shit-art, escape) 

11. Carb-load

12. Charge my phone. Find my credit card. 

13. buy ponchos. In case of a monsoon. 

Sometimes I think about this poem

The Taxi

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

.....The Taxi by Amy Lowell (1874-1925)

I'm a jerk but at least I'm pretty (ish)?

One of my pet peeves includes: jerks who don't do what they say they are going to do. Sadly, oddly, I am one of those people (and I hate myself, really). For instance: I said I was going to three parties last weekend and I only showed up to one (by a hair: I was totally going to stay home and eat chips). Then, I said I'd work out with people: bailed. Oh oh. Don't forget how I scheduled that work meeting: cancelled at the last minute. And I just got off the phone after leaving a message to say, yeah, no, not going to be getting that laser hair removal. RESCHEDULE (the first of three cancels before I manage to make myself go). Yes, it is one of my best skills. Make a plan and not follow through. Very much NOT what Brian Boitano would do. My favorite things to bail on: Dentist appointments, anything that involves a potluck, and things planned long in advance. This is to say, SIGN ME UP! I won't show up. Once I know where I'm going, I'm already bored. I blame Future Me talking shit to Present Me. Please don't ask me to do something next week. Or next month. Planning ahead is not for me. But there are times I agree to some things. And when I cancel (which I usually do) at the last second, I Feel Awesome. I am Stealing: Stealing FREE time and giving it back to ME. Unplanned time. Spontaneous time. Anything-could-happen time.  Everytime I say "Maybe! We'll see! I'll Try!" Yeah. Not so much. Honestly it's an 80/20 split. In that: yeah, probably not. And what will I be doing instead? Frolicking in my free time, probably in my underwear doing whatever the fuck I feel like doing. I'm a fucking jerk, and I'm sorry. I feel terrible about it. But not really. I'm sure that's a big part of the problem.

morning vs me

Children always get more sleep = make so much mother fucking noise right inside by brain with all that energy: morning wins

It's January and still night-time at 6:30 am: morning wins

Bed (I love you, let's do it doggie-style): morning wins

Sometimes people talk to me: morning wins

"The word peanuts has PEEE and NUTS in it": morning wins

Sometimes I can drink an entire cup of coffee: I win

"Lew has poop!!": morning wins

Showering with three people staring/peeing/yelling for breakfast: morning wins

Picking out socks and then misplacing them so have to do it twice: morning wins

Leaving anything "to do in the morning" (dishes/garbage/homework): morning always wins (and wipes it's ass with me)

Staring at the wall for 30 minutes in silence after I arrive at my place of phd-ing: I win

Getting a parking ticket for leaving the car on the street overnight: morning wins

Going Bizerk on a snowsuit that won't get on a toddler: HAHA I win you son-of-a-bitch

CURRENT KICK

Wearing my underwear inside-out. 

Not because it feels extra-awesome.

Or because I want to.

And it seems that those time I put more effort into it than necessary (you know, look) is when it is more likely to go terribly wrong (i.e., me discovering at approximately 9:45 am that I've done it again) and I find my self going "what the fuck? I thought I did it right this time." 

Getting dressed is hard.

Today's Word

Entropy: the tendency of nature (my life) to spiral into disorder/chaos. Wheeee.

Last Night

Went to a dinner party!

Was excited!

Socialized with Real Live Grown Ups.

Refreshing.

The events:

1. my skin (the new skin, found under the old skin that I had lasered off four weeks ago) is extra sensitive, in that, I have some zits. I looked 14...because of the acne, not the laser. Everyone else was at least 10 years older than me. Felt like a babe in the woods. Divine.

2. I was unsure of the dress code. Does dress like a Bard mean dress like a ballerina? I thought so. One guy wore a towel with a kilt printed on it. Awesome. 

3. They served Haggis. I enjoyed it. Especially when paired with scotch.

4. I made plenty of on-purpose inappropriate comments/jokes. 

5. My hair: I did not cut it. I did not wear my grey tuque to hide the mop. No one barfed on my head. A miracle.

6. I was starving (I haven't eaten in a few days do to fear of old food and boredom with feeding myself). So I had TWO servings of haggis.

7. Learned what feltching is. And that you can also spell it fletching. So there.

8. scabies can be sophisticated dinner party talk. And still continues to be hilarious. Especially when the guy beside you has a phobia of public transit and changes his pants immediately after sitting in a cab/bus/subway.

CURRENT KICK

Leaving the stove and stove elements on. 

I am either:

a) unconsciously trying to burn my house down

b) dementing (days before my 33rd birthday)

c) no where near being on planet earth (aka: in the here and now)

d) bored

Right NOW

Trying to get to Haiti.

Current Kick

Drinking water straight from the bathroom tap. It used to be a middle of the night thing. Now it's all the time.

Estimated time: 8:15 a.m.

Lew is crying and screaming because he asked for breakfast, yelled for breakfast, cried in my face for breakfast. And then I gave it to him. I know. I'm a terrible horrible mother. As soon as I get to work I'm going to re-evaluate my mothering skills. And drink some vodka to chase the crack pipe I will smoke.

Dex is crying/pouting because I told him that working on his computerized/programable robot (complete with 100,000 small/delicate pieces) was a bad idea 30 minutes before school, in the middle of the living room floor, five steps away from Lew who likes to trash other people's stuff just for the fuck of it.

And where is Nev: hiding in his bed, naked, crying hysterically because he is asked to put on clean clothes (that is to say: clothes he hadn't been wearing for four days already). It is now ten minutes before we need to leave for school.

I have been awake for roughly 30 minutes. I think a job negotiating with terrorists while underwater fighting sharks would be easier than this. My Mother is definitely to blame.

But No Worries: No one was beaten. Or eaten. Or given away to the Gypsies. And when one of my profs revealed to me his partner is pregnant five seconds after I delivered the snotty/crying mess to school, I did my best to act like having children is a Great Thing and So Fun and Awesome. High Fives. Two Thumbs Up. Good Luck with That! I don't think he got my sarcasm.

Conversations

7:30 a.m.

Nev: "Mommy! Dex just showed me a magic trick!!"

Me: "oh?"

Nev: "He put a car into his slinky and turned it into his penis!"*

Me: "Gross. Please put your penises away and get ready for school."

_________________________

*Who knew boys actually practiced tacky pick-up lines so young.

Today's Motto

It's just a little touch of fate. I'll be okay. I'll dream the rest away.

Today

I hate other people's ear infections. A Lot. 

So: to distract myself from other peoples' agony, I made boeuf bourguignon. It took six hours, 3-4 of which required active cooking. It tasted like God pooped in my mouth (which of course tastes like braised onions and slow cooked browned beef). 

Dexter: ate the bread only.

Neville: "I think I'm the only kid in the family who likes meat"

Lewis: too full from his 800 previous snacks.

Today's lessons: don't cook fine french cuisine for children. they are jerks. Oh and when your kid's ear starts spurting blood, it's just a perforated ear drum. No big deal. Although visitors will find the blood stains on my pillows curious. 

Parental Law # 7

Earaches ALWAYS strike at three am.

Todays Observations

1. That being told your child almost choked to death and they had to hymlick him isn't scary at all. 

2. I was right: my hellishly sore and terrible throat was just a virus. Or Astrid: 1, Strep throat: 0.

3. When I work, boy, I work. And when I work I don't think. Yay.

4. my laser face burn-off backfired: at three weeks out, I look worse instead of younger. maybe it just needs more time.

5. tapping into the internet once daily is best. Versus 5000 times.

6. that people with Teeny Tiny Heads exist. 

7. People litter on purpose. Crazy.

8. Social Grace is a lost art. 

Memory #80

While in the shower tonight I started to think of all the Fictional crushes I've had over the years. I found this memory alarming:

1. First celebrity crush (I was probably 8ish): Corey Hart. I would get super pissed when my siblings, who couldn't help it cause we shared a room, would "listen" to my record as I was listening to it, back in 1986. I needed alone time with him, Just me and Corey.

2. Corey Haim: I think it was a "Corey" transference, crushing from one Corey to the next. 

3. David Hasselhoff, as Night Rider. What a dreamy man. With such a cool car. And a HERO. (hot.) If I had been born a boy, this is the man I would have wanted to become. Scary.

4. Superman (Christopher Reeve): I had a thing for heros

5. Almost all of the New Kids on the Block, at one point or another, except Danny, cause he looked like a monkey.

6. Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. At age 12, that was the most sexy movie I'd ever seen. 

7. Brad Pitt (from Legends of the Falls) and Tom Cruise (from Far and Away). I was 15 and stuck in the woods. I couldn't help myself.

8. Jude Law: oh wait. that's now. He's such a baby-implanting scoundrel. Yummy

Zen and the art of potty training: conversations

Me: "hey Lew! look, there's a Guy in your potty! PEE ON HIM! 

Lew: "That's funny!"

Dexter: "Lewis is going to pee on a guy?! I wanna see that! Hey Neville, Lew is going to pee on a guy! I'd do it. Can I do it??" 

Neville: "me too me too me too!"

Me: "oh crap, this isn't what I meant. Jesus put your pants back on the whole lot of you!"

Today: The Zen of Potty Training

I dislike potty training. You know why? Cause there is Nothing I Can Do About it. It is the ultimate Zen test. Let be. Let go. Relinquish Control. Just Live. A person (i.e., Me) has to hand over responsibility to the Child: a 3.5 year old Irrational Beast. This was a difficult task 5 years ago with Dex, before I had learned that controlling one's anus has nothing to do with the degree of my "I'm so disappointed" tone. This Time? Fuck it. I'll put him in underwear, let him sit in his own excrement. Live it. Feel it. The problem? The child has nasty tricks up his sleeves. He doesn't mind his filth. He Enjoys it in fact. Plays in it. Quietly. Waits for me to find him all decked out in a film of shit. I have a feeling the Kingdergarden teacher is really going to disapprove of my parenting philosophy (again): wait until he feels like using the toilet. So what if he's 20 and still wearing a daiper? That's his life choice, not mine. Cause really, making someone do something (love you, lose weight, put their socks in the dirty clothes) is impossible. Unless duct tape is involved. 

How to: get drunk and gain personal insight

Ahem: the list of favorite wines grows by one:

1. Mateus Signature, Douro 2007, Portugal. $8,95

2. Conde De Valdemar, Reserva 2003, Spain. $21,10 (i.e., yikes!) 

I like #1 the BEST so far (wins with taste to price ratio), but I think #2 is actually a better wine. But then, I'm an "other peoples' preference slut" in that I am easily swayed: someone told me it was very very good and then gave it to me. Even said to Save it for a Special Occasion. (I don't understand special occasions. I wasn't born with a sentiment circuit.) But! Free Wine? Extra DELICIOUS. But in all likelihood, my taste buds are biased. I'll buy #2 when I'm feeling Impressive and Sexy. Oh, and Rich. The search for 3-5 continues...

In the meantime it seems I am learning things about myself:

1. I like to taste this part of the world with my mouth.

2. I like drinking.

3. I like it when I get stuff for free

Realizations that let me to subtract 5 points from myself for being like every other jerk in the world.

How to: have a good time for one

Me + Charles Bukowski + Night = Fun Times

Things Found

You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold.

(the original Dire Straits version is pretty sweet too.)

And holy shit, does it ever make me cry and turn my eyes a crazy shade of blue. 

CURRENT KICK

Being awake at 4-5 a.m. For the day. 

The Murder of 2010

Fact: Started punching and kicking classes (Me. I. this woman signed a six month contract to learn some martial arts. seriously. I find it hysterical. and atypical-I'm not so great with plans and commitments and promises. Step 2: register for the Kingston Tri. Step 3: EAT. A LOT. Step 4: mmmmm cake.)

Fact: Stopped drinking coffee. Had my regular at work after a two week absence and disliked it. Mildly considered starting antidepressants. Will start running again instead. Ran 20k cold on a random January day last year. Need to do that again. 

FACT: getting shit done at work. sort of. And by sort of I mean: not really.

fact: spent an inappropriate amount of time looking at new cars today. will likely buy a new car before the year is out. With cash bitches. with cash. This is the part where I high-five my financing skillz. And the part where I am living how I planned to. (CASH CASH CASH)

fact: sometimes I lie. 

Fact: haha. funny. I don't care. I don't care if you think I'm lame. a bad mother. old. a jerk. smelly. stupid. no difference. and the more different you and I are: ha! the more fun I'll have figuring out how to be your friend.

fact: pretty sure I'm going to Burning Man (and the sweet desert) and we're gonna drive. and then peru (that's where the mountain I will climb lives). I will start the vaccines soon. And by "pretty sure" I mean, it's on my mind. And maybe it will have to wait until 2012.

FACT: my seven-year-old is insanely socially intelligent. 

fact: I am writing my MCATs in 8 months. And then I will go to Medical School. After I get my PhD. And it will look just like that. 

FACT: I changed my mind. 2010 is going to be insane. And after a low-key 2009 I'm ready.

Fact. just had two glasses of my current favorite wine and believe I can conquer the world. Yikes. Just have to do it now.

Things Found

Can I be the girl that you met at the coin laundry?

Fear and Loathing

Something to do with it being a Sunday AND the last day of vacation

Fear:

That People I miss will die before I see them again (I am selfish)

A creepy feeling I'm not going to stay out of trouble in 2010 if I don't live impeccably (impossible)

Wearing my contacts (re: recent blinding events)

Loathing:

Cleaning out the refrigerator (barf)

Facing my undone work (=I'm a jackass)

Making lunches (everyday: dull)

Waking up on time (translation: going to bed before 2 am; booo)

Leaving the house (which will involve putting on pants: sucky)

Making dentist appointments for the kids (3 years overdue) 

Watering the Poinsettia (it's going to die: I know it. not good)

NYE conversations

Me: "WOW, this smoked salmon on bread is delicious!"

Dex, as he cream cheeses his baguette: "You cannot talk me into eating fish."

Me: "oh"