Friday, December 24, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't wish you a Merry Christmas first.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

twelve of the most mirth filled, wild, gleeful, squealing, magical, exhausting, wonderful, hours that is Christmas with small children.

Of which I wouldn't trade all the presents in the world for, not even a nap with nobody but me.

And so I in my 'kerchief (yoga pants and tank top) and he in his cap (nightcap of rum and egg nog) will all settle down for a long winter's nap.

May you find yourselves all snug in your beds with visions of sugar plums dancing in your heads.


Thursday, December 23, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't get a very shiny nose first.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my children gave to me...

eleven stop the fightings (over who gets the orange car, sharing the blanket on the couch, which story to read, who touched the Christmas tree...)

Ten hours sleeping (the luxury of sleeping in past 7:00).

Nine all out rantings (Costco how dare you make me think I need a 4 pack of bacon, now I'm going to have to eat it and I'm going to have to figure out what wine goes with bacon. Way to ruin Christmas, Costco).

Eight maids-a-cleaning (but then I would have to clean before the maid came, so that the filth we normally live in wouldn't be so apparent).

Seven glasses brimming (brim-ming).

Six listen to what I'm sayings ("Use your indoor voice", I'm fully aware yelling it totally negates the request).

Five meals that someone else brings (or McDonald's cheeseburgers, no onions please).

Four swearing words (for when I'm trying to wrestle toys out of ridiculous packaging).

Three holding pens (so they won't hear the swearing).

Two latex gloves (you don't even what to know why -shudders-).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't smoke a corncob pipe first.

On the tenth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

ten hours sleeping (what's that again?)

Nine all out rantings (Wal-Mart you are the bitch teat at which I must suckle this holiday season, mostly because of your cheap stocking stuffers).

Eight maids-a-cleaning (that should be enough to tackle the kids' bathroom).

Seven glasses brimming (brim-ming).

Six listen to what I'm sayings (I know, total pipe dream).

Five meals that someone else brings (like poutine).

Four swearing words (I'm going to need them when opening my Visa bill).

Three holding pens (so they won't hear the swearing).

Two latex gloves (you don't even what to know why -shudders-).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't take a ride on a jingle horse first.

On the ninth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

nine all out rantings (there are so many things I would like to rant about right now Wal-Mart being one of them, but let's start with the red Monte Carlo I follow to work everyday. First a Monte Carlo, really? Are you sure you wouldn't like to hang a pair of chrome testicles from the back bumper, you know to class it up a bit? And if you have the balls to drive a red Monte Carlo then for the love of gods drive it a little faster than 10 under the speed limit! Oh and one more thing, the left lane is for passing asshole!)

Eight maids-a-cleaning (I could use nine but I don't want to be a complainy complainerson).

Seven glasses brimming (which is different from the usual six).

Six listen to what I'm sayings (or just ignore me completely and throw a huge temper tantrum).

Five meals that someone else brings (thanks Mom).

Four swearing words (which is strange, seeing as I hardly ever find use for profanity).

Three holding pens (only until the Christmas tree comes down and also until the kids turn twenty, I'm just kidding you're legally an adult when you turn eighteen. So only until they're eighteen).

Two latex gloves (and the pee, -sigh-).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Monday, December 20, 2010

twelve days of Christmas... if I don't deck the halls first.

On the eighth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

eight maids-a-cleaning (eight is a start anyways).

Seven glasses brimming (of wine, because duh).

Six listen to what I'm sayings ("Put your listening ears on", said through clenched teeth).

Five meals that someone else brings (but not fruitcake, I draw the line at fruitcake).

Four swearing words (I would settle for saying fuck four times).

Three holding pens (its the gift that keeps on giving).

Two latex gloves (because of the poop, -sigh-).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if someone doesn't bring me some figgy pudding first

On the seventh day of Christmas my children gave to me...

seven glasses brimming (with a nice Shiraz or even a Merlot, I'm not picky).

Six listen to what I'm sayings (its like I'm talking to a brick wall, a brick wall that never sits still and occasionally pees his snow pants).

Five meals that someone else brings (its nothing but candy canes and almond bark from here on out).

Four swearing words (I've got a lot to get off my chest).

Three holding pens (so I can get some peace on earth).

Two latex gloves (need I explain).

And a nap with nobody but me.

the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't fa la la la la first.

On the sixth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

six listen to what I'm sayings. (there's a lot of selective hearing going on up in this ma and Santa's pissed)

Five meals that someone else brings (because cooking with a toddler wrapped around your leg, licking your jeans is exhausting).

Four swearing words (so I can express my self properly).

Three holding pens (one for each kid, especially for my 33 year old who won't leave the chocolate chips alone).

Two latex gloves (because wiping ass is a dirty job).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Friday, December 17, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas ...if I'm not candy caned first.

On the fifth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

five meals that someone else brings (my palate is ready to move beyond frozen pizza and caesar salad).


Four swearing words (don't worry the c-word isn't one of them, Conservative especially when paired with Progressive, is even too much for this blog, although sometimes when I stub my toe or someone cuts me off in the passing lane, I yell out "Stephen Harper!").

Three holding pens (but the humane kind).

Two latex gloves (you know, to preserve my manicure).

And a nap with nobody but me.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas...if I don't get tipsy off the holiday spirit first

On the fourth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

four swearing words (fuck, shit, damn and ass preferably.) To be used without repercussion in situations meriting their use, instead of settling for fudge, snap, darn and bum.

Three holding pens ( "No touching the Christmas tree", fudge!)

Two latex gloves (Because kids can be gross and they're really leaky)

And a nap with nobody but me.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas...if I don't jingle any bells first

On the third day of Christmas my children gave to me...

three holding pens (seriously if I have to say, "No touching the Christmas tree", one more time I'm going to loose my shit.)

Two latex gloves (shit and I have become way too familiar)

And a nap with nobody but me.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas...if I don't get mistletoed first

On the second day of Christmas my children gave to me...

two latex gloves. (I'm done with shit. Done.)

And a nap with nobody but me.

Monday, December 13, 2010

the twelve days of Christmas... if a reindeer doesn't get me first

On the first day of Christmas my children gave to me...

a nap with nobody but me.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

sepia and Lululemon has pretty much ruined my life. not really.

I would like to say that yes, I did use this picture as last year's Christmas card.



That, that is what greeted family and friends during last year's holiday season. Because that just about summed us up at the time. That picture was so us, for so many reasons. And because it is pretty fucking awesome in all kinds of ways.

But in reality this was last year's Christmas card.



Which speaks to the reality of motherhood, of parenting, that pair of pictures. Really fucking loudly.

That behind the scenes there is always a reindeer fight or something. That when the antlers come out it gets really real, really fast.

That parenting is not all soft glowy and sepia toned.

Because when you're standing behind a perfect blond ponytail clothed in light coloured Lululemon pants in line at the grocery store. And the blond pony tailed Lululemon is speaking all sing songy to her spotless children who are singing the alphabet and working through quadratic equations, while my own are blissfully eating my grocery list, you feel a little lacking in the sepia department.

Children have no business being well behaved in grocery stores, it just ruins it for everyone else and light coloured Lululemon pants! Everyone who has given birth to more than one child vaginally and sneezes a lot knows that light coloured pants are a total fucking faux pas and that the industrial strength Lycra in Costco yoga pants are way more effective at holding in your gut. And anyways I can only get my hair in a messy kind of half pony tail.

But there it is right in front of you, that little sepia toned moment and it just totally fucks with your perception of things. And there you are wondering what it would be like. The sepia.

And so last year's Christmas card was that. Because, for a little bit, it was nice to be sepia.


This year? This year we are all about this.



Which is pretty much where we are at right now.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

wordless wednesday, because I'm feeling all chipper and shit

And also I'm riding out a Benylin high, which makes me all warm and fuzzy and partial to participating in blogging memes.

(It's Wednesday right?)



Last year's attempt at a holiday photo card. It was a raging success.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

hear that? that's the sound of the mighty falling.


It totally sounds like a balloon deflating, all farty and depressing, with a sharp hissing sound. And it hurts. Me being the mighty and having fallen so hard and unceremoniously.

One day I was walking around spreading motherly love and wisdom throughout the land.

Meaning, I was yelling at my kids to eat their carrots, swearing under my breath at the familiar shooting pain of a Lego underfoot and bribing my husband with sexual favours to clean the garage. (You don't even want to know what I had to do for a clean basement. -shivers-)

When the next thing I know I'm laying here indulging in my recreational drug du jour, Neocitran, with the kids running around unkempt, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, yelling 'poopie' at the top of their lungs.

Motherless and wild.

Its bad, real bad. With the aches and feverishness, the chills, sore throat and the mucous. Its the mucous that just might be the end of me. And if it is and the end does come (I always thought that it would be someone else's snot that would kill me) please, someone give me a pedicure and a bikini wax before they hand over my body.

Don't let me go down like that.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

vigil

As an 11 year old girl, living in upstate New York, listening to radio out of Montreal on December 6, 1989 I remember a feeling of bewilderment. At such a great loss of life. At the senselessness of it. At how being a woman had became a death sentence.

For 14.

* Geneviève Bergeron (born 1968), civil engineering student
* Hélène Colgan (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
* Nathalie Croteau (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
* Barbara Daigneault (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
* Anne-Marie Edward (born 1968), chemical engineering student
* Maud Haviernick (born 1960), materials engineering student
* Maryse Laganière (born 1964), budget clerk
* Maryse Leclair (born 1966), materials engineering student
* Anne-Marie Lemay (born 1967), mechanical engineering student
* Sonia Pelletier (born 1961), mechanical engineering student
* Michèle Richard (born 1968), materials engineering student
* Annie St-Arneault (born 1966), mechanical engineering student
* Annie Turcotte (born 1969), materials engineering student
* Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz (born 1958), nursing student


...never again.