I'm from here...

Random person at get-together: "So, we just got posted here from Comox, and I have to say, this is the shittiest shit hole we've ever been.  This place is, like, horrible.  And the people?  OMG.  Total hicks.  You should hear them speak.  They speak so weird!   And have you heard about the South Mountain?? Like, wow!!  So, where are you from?"

Okay, so maybe the dialogue isn't exactly like that... and maybe they're not always from Comox (but, in case you didn't know, Comox is the most amazing place on earth, just ask someone from there!) but the conversations I find myself involved in as a military wife often go a lot like that.  I usually try to keep quiet, and refrain from hick-popping them in the head (let's make that a real thing!), until they ask that inevitable question... and then my answer is usually enough to shock them into silence.

Me: "I'm from here.  And by the way, it's scallllop."

Can I just say that I personally think that Valley peeps are some of the friendliest around?!  I mean, I'm fucking friendly!!!  And the Valley is awesome!  Sure, a lot of us try to escape it, but I think we all desperately miss it, and truly love it deep down.  I moved away once... for a whole 10 months.  And then I came back, and have been here ever since!

I grew up in a military family, but I was lucky enough to spend my entire life here in Nova Scotia.  I was born at the (old) Kentville hospital, lived in Upper Clements until I was 6, and then spent the rest of my life in Kingston.  I met Danny when I was 19, at the time when we still went to the Top Hat on Friday  nights, and the atmosphere there between military and "local" folks was pretty disturbing.  I'm sure Danny has had to defend his dating - and then marrying - a local girl more than once.

I understand that getting posted here from somewhere more exotic may be a culture shock.  But it also seems like people these days are so judgy.  They have their minds made up before they get a chance to really know a place.  Or a person, for that matter.  Any place is only as good as you make it.  Danny and I could be posted to the North Pole, and have to live in an igloo, but I know that as long as we support each other in a positive way, we'd get along just fine... I mean, we'd probably fight because I'd always be turning up the heat, and he'd be leaving the igloo window open, but we'd still make the best of it!

The Valley (and Greenwood) has so much to offer!  Beautiful views, spectacular drives, and hey! we even have a Walmart now!!   Anyway, the moral of this story is... I'm from here.  And here is awesome!

Back to the Blog... Oh, how I've missed you!

I'm baa-aaack!  It's been a long, lonely two months without you, Mr. Blog!  So many stories lost and forgotten, so many teachable moments, never to be shared.  You see, I broke my computer a while ago... the screen lost the thing-a-ma-jiggy that keeps it open on its own.  So I had to rest the screen against something to keep it open.  The wires were exposed, and it was a precarious situation... and of course, one night I knocked the screen off the box of wine it was resting on, and apparently severed some sort of wire inside the thing that made it possible to connect to the internet.  The only time I had internet access was when I was sitting directly in front of our wireless router.  And thus, the death of my laptop.  It was now a floppy, useless tool.  I was forced to used my tablet thing-a-ma-jiggy to blog, and that was not working for me, since I type 100+ words per minute, and it was a touch screen. Even after my parents got my the connectable keyboard thingy (can you tell how much I love technology) for Christmas, it was much better, but still unable to keep up with my fingers.  Not to mention, the screen was only 8 inches, and, let's admit it ladies, 8 inches just isn't enough!

But now I have a very pretty, shiny, new, blue laptop.  And when I type, letters appear.  Like, all of them!  It's fantastic.  So I can write again!

But where to start... where. to. start.  You've already missed so much!  Gracie's ongoing conversations with God.  Her 4th birthday.  The 238 times Ella has told us about her last birthday party, and about her coming birthday party.  That's right, 238 times.  Cause she talks about it every freaking day.  And it's been 238 days since her birthday!  There has been so much excitement!  So much asshole-ness from the kids!  So many new things learned by the little mister. And I can hardly remember any of them.  Apparently mommy-brain is in full swing, because I can barely remember to feed the kids these days!

It seems like it's been such a long, cold winter!  I know the snow didn't officially start until the end of January, but it seriously feels like we've been house-bound for months!  I cannot wait to start seeing some green grass.  Or even some brown dirt.  I'd even settle for the piles of dog poop buried under the snow!  I love winter, but I'm done with this shit.  Except, of course, for the 25+ centimetres they're calling for on Tuesday.  Then, seriously, I'm done!

One thing I've noticed this winter, with the girls not being in daycare, is the lack of plague-like illnesses around our house.  Except that one time that Nanny visited and brought all the sick germs with her, we've managed to avoid so many of the winter-time illnesses that we've gotten used to over the past four years.  After Nanny left that time, Ella got sick, and poor Jax got sick, but Gracie managed to avoid it.  Ella has yet to yarf, ever, and I think we've avoided the flu again this year (yay!).  Jax had a nasty, congested cold, and of course being too young to know how to blow his nose, it was a solid two weeks of nastiness running down his face.  Then, two weeks ago, Jax and Gracie both spiked fevers out of nowhere, Jax's man-cold came back, and poor Gracie had one nasty barfing episode and then felt fine (except for the 3 days of unexplained fever).  Jax stayed miserable for about 5 solid days... and I hid at my sister's house during the days to have back-up for the nasty attitude.  Babies are so much easier to tolerate in their miserableness when you have witnesses around.  Plus, my kids think Aunt Tricia is so simple and entertaining, and she can make even the crankiest of kids laugh!

After 5 solid days of crying and whining, I considered taking Jax to the doctor to have him checked out.  Except that on day 6, he woke up and was feeling much better... or so I thought!  The day his whining stopped was also the day I noticed his appetite slowed.  On Tuesday, he only drank about half his usual amount of formula.  On Wednesday, he barely finished any of his bottles, and only picked at his food.  On Thursday, he refused to drink his afternoon and evening bottles, and hardly ate any real food.  On Friday, he wouldn't drink any bottles, and would only eat strawberries and bananas..  When he woke up Saturday morning with a mostly-dry diaper, I knew I had to get the little man to the hospital.  I'm a fantastic potty-trainer, but not even I would take credit for a 9-month old not wetting through the night.  I tried to give him his usual morning bottle, and he screamed and screamed and screamed.  I woke up Danny, told him we were headed to the hospital, and off we went.

To make a long story short, our littlest man had a very nasty double ear infection, and his throat was raw and sore.  The doctor said every time he tried to swallow, pressure would build up in his ears, and cause excruciating pain.  Hence, the refusal of any sort of bottle, fluid, or food.  The good news was that when Jax cried, he cried tears, which meant he wasn't dehydrated.  Yet.  The doctor was very concerned about the lack of wet diapers, and his refusal of any food or drink.  She dosed him up with some pain medication, and offered freezies.  Apparently, even the sickest and crankiest of babies love frozen sugar!  He ate three freezies, and the doctor told me she would let me take him home.  She gave strict instructions on diet (liquid only for the next three days - freezies, soup, gatorade, watermelon, and jello), and gave 10 days of antibiotics, and motrin for pain every 8 hours, day and night, for three days.

We are now at the end of day three, and I would say Jax is just about back to his normal self.  Saturday evening, he had his first wet diaper, which made me dance and sing a pee-song.  Today, he started pooping again.  I did not dance about this... it's been 6 poops... enough already!  He took his first bottle yesterday evening, and has had all of them so far today.  Believe it or not, this is our first experience with an ear infection, the other two have not had the pleasure.  The worst thing about being a baby, is it's hard to tell if he's getting teeth, just being a pain in the ass, or is in genuine pain.  He can't tell us, and by the time we realized that it was not just regular fussiness, he was on the verge of dehydration, and nearly admitted to the hospital.   Thank heavens he recovered quickly and is back to his usual self!

Oh!  In all of the chaos that has been this winter, this little boy also turned 9 months old! Crazy how time flies!  He is scooching all over the place (we've never actually seen him scooch, but every time we look up, he's in a different location), pulls himself up to the furniture, waves, claps, and stands by himself (until he realizes, of course, that he's standing by himself - then he falls).  He'll be on the move soon enough, and I can't wait!  He is adorable, super chatty, and is the chillest of all my babies.  Speaking of my other babies... they are a little less adorable these days!  I have one smack dab in the middle of the terrible-twos, and one who is four.  I don't think there's a title for the terrible-fours, but I'ma create one.  Next time.  For now, we can focus on the adoreableness of the little mister!  :)

At the hospital, waiting for his freezie!

After some pain medication and a few freezies, he was feeling much, much better!

Some fresh paint...

Well, I did it.  Kind of.  I got up off my butt and started my renovations.  I completely overhauled my bedroom, got it all cleaned out, and freshly painted, and rearranged everything to make it look more spacious.  Easy, peasy.  Except it wasn't.  It sucked.  And I learned a few things along the way.

 

An old photo, but shows the position and kind-of colour of the room.

 

First of all, never attempt to paint a room that is full of your belongings.  It's just a bad idea.  Of course, my room was full of my belongings, so I didn't take my own advice.  For 4 days, we lived in a pile of crap, covered with towels, and had to climb over and around paintbrushes, stir sticks, cans of paint, and those tray things that the paint goes in.  Every morning I would pile all the crap on the bed in an effort to make walking around the furniture easier.  And every night I would pile all of the crap onto the floor in an effort to make sleeping easier.  So, yeah.  Paint a room when it's empty.  Much. Easier.

 

Second of all, don't paint your walls a dark chocolate brown.  I mean, totally do it if you never ever ever plan to paint over it.  Cause dark chocolate brown has been incredibly relaxing and comforting for the last 9 years.  But it's a bitch to paint over.  Thank goodness the lady at Home Hardware tinted my primer blue (to match the paint that was going over the chocolate) because it was a lot less coats.

 

So cozy, and warm... and so freaking dark!!

 

 

Third... don't paint your ceiling a lighter colour brown in an effort to make your room more cozy.  I mean, totally do it if you never ever ever plan to paint over it.  Cause it really does make your room more cozy.  But painting ceilings is a bitch.  And it makes you cry in pain for 2 days after you've finished painting because standing with your hands above your head while staring at a ceiling for a full day is apparently not a position your muscles will thank you for.  In fat, they will scream at you.  Usually at 4 in the morning.

 

See that smile?  It's cause my arms have only been over my head for 15 minutes!

 

Fourth... always enlist help when painting.  It makes the crazies stay away.  Because locking yourself in a paint fume-filled room by yourself for 4 days will make you crazy.  Having someone helps you means that when you cuss, they'll cuss too, and you can gossip the time away and then painting doesn't seem to suck nearly as much.  It helps too if they're not very good at panting, because then you can blame all the little mistakes on them (sorry, Tricia!).

 

My helper (by the way, she actually turned out to be a pretty decent painter!)

Having a helper means I can take more breaks.  Spinach smoothie, anyone??

 

And finally, never ever ever paint, unless you absolutely have to.  Because after you paint, you will have to paint baseboards.  Which will put white paint on your freshly painted walls.  Which you will then have to paint over with blue.  Which will then put blue on your freshly painted baseboards.  Which you will have to paint over with white.  Which will then put white on your freshly repainted blue walls.  And the crazy cycle will continue until you finally scream, "For the love of God, Danny, I can't do this anymore, I'm finished.  I'm finished!  Holy crap, get this paint brush out of my hand before I throw it at my freshly painted walls!!" Not that I yelled that.  Cause I'm not a crazy paint lady.  I swear.

 

Painting over the mini-mistakes, with the mini-paintbrush.  That's my "F-you" face!

 

 

So that's it.  The bedroom is finished.  All painted.  All done.  Thank God and praise Jesus!  Wait.... what? There are still 6 rooms to scrub, and three areas to paint?  Excuse me now, while I go cry in my paint tray...

 

All done, and officially lightened up.  As per the agent's request! :)

And totally de-cluttered!!



"Ta-da!! Now get me a drink!!"

 

It's a New Year... and I'm tired already!

Hey, it's a new year!  Okay, we're already two weeks into the new year... but does it count that I started this blog on the 1st of January?  I was going to write about all my hopes and dreams for the coming year.  All the resolutions I've made.  And how I'm going to actually keep them.  Except, it's two weeks into the new year, and I already know how some of those things turned out.

 

My main resolution for the new year?  Be a happier, "better" person.  Being a stay-at-home mom has given me a case of the grumps.  My little people are awesome, but I crave some intellectual stimulation.  The problem is that by the time the little people are all in bed, the mess is tidied, and I have a moment to stimulate my intellecualness (yes, that's a word...), I'm tired.  So I plop my bum down on the couch and Netflix it for the night.  My goal was to stop that.  I was going to stimulate my brain so I could be more energetic, and smiley, and get shit accomplished.  Yeah, that is not going well.  I keep telling myself, "Tomorrow you can.  Tonight you can rest."

 

That seems to be my main barrier in this "better" person goal.  I'm tired.  Crap.  Three kids is tiring.  Being home with three kids all freaking day is tiring.  Cleaning up after three kids is tiring.  Being in charge of three kids' intellectual stimulation is tiring.  Ugh, I'm tired just writing about how tiring it is.  I don't have enough energy to pretend to be a better person.  I think that was my real goal anyway, to pretend to be a better person.  Cause, let's be honest.  At my age... there's no changing who I am.  But I can change how people can perceive me.  I can pretend to be a happier bitch, instead of just a regular bitch. But I don't have the energy for that.  Instead, I still snap at my kids the same number of times in a day.  I still roll my eyes at my husband the same number of times.  I still plop my bum down on the couch and Netflix it, instead of washing the baseboards, or folding the laundry, or any other number of things a "good" person would do.  Ain't nobody got the time, or energy, for that crap.

 

Okay, lots of people have time for that crap.  And I hate those people. Damn it, that wasn't very "good" of my to say was it?  And now, on top of all my self-loathing and laziness, I have a house to get ready to sell.  It's supposed to be ready for the market by the end of January.  The last time I checked, I had 10 weeks.  That's now down to 2.  Crap.  I did get the kitchen floor replaced.  Well, I begged my father and grandfather to come down, and they got the kitchen floor replaced.  But I did empty the entire house of crap and shove it in a storage locker!  And, I spray painted the house numbers by our front door.  So I've gotten a few things accomplished.  And I still have two weeks, right?  So in the next two weeks, I have to paint my bedroom, paint the living room, paint the entry-way, paint the downstairs hallway, paint the mudroom, replace the kitchen faucet (which has decided now is a good time to leak), replace the bathroom faucet (which hasn't stopped leaking since the day we bought the damn thing but, again, we're too lazy to uninstall and return), frame the bathroom mirror (because Pinterest has convinced me that is a much better idea than replacing the mirror), and clean the entire house from top to bottom, including all the nooks and crannies I've been neglecting for the last 8 years.  No big deal.  Have I mentioned I'm also responsible for the health and well-being of three children while all of this is going on?  Still.  No big deal.  I work well under pressure.  I think...

 

I'm a perfectionist and a procrastinator, so some day this house will look amazing and ready to sell!  Not today though.  I'm tired.  Kids are tiring. Three kids are exhausting.  Plus it's Sunday, the day of rest.  Unless you run a Sunday School program.  In which case, it's the day you get up at the ass-crack of dawn, make sure you and your spawn are out the door by 8:30, and don't return home until after 1:00, after spending the previous hours, you know, running a program.  But I'm off topic here.  The point is...  well, I don't remember.  Cause I'm tired. 

 

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow is the day I will start being a "better" person.  I'll start by not yelling at my kids all day.  Then I will accomplish one, no, two! things on my to-do list.  We will eat healthy meals all day, because that is another resolution of ours.  And I will exercise.  Not the usual exercise of chasing three kids, but real exercise... with a sports bra and everything.  Probably in front of the TV, and possibly from a seated position on the couch.  We'll see.  Tomorrow will be the start of my new year.  Maybe. We'll see how tired I am in the morning.



Family Photos - The Ugly Truth!

It's that time of year... when the leaves change colour, and Christmas lights are starting to shine. It's family photo time!  I'm pretty sure that, to photographers, this time of year must be like tax time to accountants.  I know that I'm seeing new family photos of all my friends and family popping up on Facebook every day.  We've had two sets of photos done in the last two months ourselves... our fall family photos, and Christmas photos of the kids.  And the photos are beautiful.  Absolutely beautiful!

 

This was the first photo.  Michelle, our photographer, took it, and then said, "Wow, everybody's smiling!"  It was a perfect first photo.  It was a sign, of a beautiful photo session to come!  Except, if you've ever done a family photo session, especially a photo session with three children, you know that there's a story behind every photo, and there's a hidden truth behind all of those smiles!

 

Getting ready for family photos, for us, starts weeks in advance.  There's outfit coordination, my least favourite part.  I need something that sort of matches, without totally matching.  Then there's practicing the smiles.  Yes, that's right, I practice with the girls.  I say, "When Michelle says 'smile' what do we do??"  And then the girls run around in circles screaming.  Which is why we practice.  By the time photos come around, they smile when they are asked too.  And then I toss them each an M&M.  Because I train my kids like I train puppies.  Don't judge.

 

 

 

See this photo?  It's pretty cute!  The girls have their M&M faces on, and Jax is not crying.  Fast forward 5 seconds, after this photo, and Jax is screaming.  The nice thing about photos?  You don't get to see the after-effect of posing for pictures.  Jax screamed and cried, and Danny and I hopped around, made goo-goo sounds at him, popped out from behind Michelle screaming "Boo!" and nothing worked.  We were done with the three of them.  We bounced Jax, fed the girls more M&M's, and took a little break.

 

 

We started again with just Jax (does that remind anyone else of Will & Grace? No? Just me? Okay, then, moving on!).  We grabbed this cute little shot of him, moments before he scratched the crap out of the back of his head on the hay bale.  Parenting fail!  Also, moments later, a dog walked by and peed all over the hay bale.  I guess we were done with it, anyway!
 

 

I love these action shots!  They are some of my favourites, because they're not posed.  The girls here are running and having a good time.  Know what Danny and I are doing?  Having a mini-argument about exactly what it was that Michelle asked us to do.  Did she say get the girls to hold hands?  Were we supposed to hold hands? No, Danny, it's supposed to look natural, we can't line them up perfectly in front of us.  Yes, Sammy, the girls should hold hands so they stay closer together.  See Danny's hand in this picture?  I'm fairly sure he was holding his temple and saying "Why do I get myself into this every fall?!"

 

 

Michelle said, "Okay, stop there!  Everybody smile!"  The girls kept walking, Danny and I kept shuffling forward to keep up with them, and Jax kept pulling my shirt down so my boobs were hanging out.  Somehow, we got this photo.  Which is beautiful!!

 

 

Next was individual shots of the girls.  Gracie is amazing.  She has the best attitude, and loves the camera.  We got this.  It was perfect.  No drama!  I love this kid!!

 

 

Now, isn't that the most amazing smile?  So genuine!  She was getting fed up by this point, so I was yelling, "Guess what? Chicken butt!" at her to get a positive reaction.  I'm pretty sure Michelle thought we were nuts.  But it worked, and she is beautiful!  I love this kid!!

 

 

See this picture?  Jax had just thrown up down Gracie's back.  She didn't notice, because I wiped it off before she could completely melt down.  Also, Gracie is tired now.  She was stomping her feet and refusing to smile.  Also, Ella was pissed that Gracie got to keep the little pumpkin.  She had also discovered by this time that we were counting on her to smile.  And we were willing to pay in M&M's.  Which meant that she was holding smiles ransom for chocolate.  Smart kid.  Pain in the ass, but terribly smart!!  Behind that smile on my face, I was half whispering, half pleading with the girls, "For the love of God, just look at Michelle and SMILE!!"  "Gracie, stop stomping your feet!" "No, Ella! You cannot have a chocolate until after you smile!" Also, I'm sweating like a pig here. Not glistening, but dripping with sweat. I've wrestled kids all around the duck pond, while lugging an 18-pound sack of infant, and being slobbered and barfed on.  My usual calm mama persona is slowly melting into an about-to-lose-my-shit mama persona, and yet... the picture looks so calm!

 

 

I have no story about this picture.  I made funny faces, he gave us this adorable smile.  Michelle strategically placed that leaf on him, which made the picture oh, so adorable. And I love this kid!!

 

 

See this photo?  You can really see the love in our eyes.  After 9 years together, we are still so much in love.  Want to hear the conversation behind this photo?

 

Danny: I hate pictures like this.  What are we supposed to be doing?

Me: Looking lovingly at each other.  Will you freaking smile?

Danny: I am smiling.

Me: No, you're not!  God, I hate that beard.  You couldn't have shaved?

Danny: Can we not talk about this again?  You already told me 100 times to shave, and I didn't. The beard makes me look rugged and handsome.

Me: Tell me you love me.

Danny: Are we done yet?

Michelle: All done, great job guys!

 

Okay, so the conversation wasn't exactly like that.  But pretty close.  And seriously, we fought about the beard for days before these pictures.  After seeing the pictures, I have to admit, I kind of like it.  But for the love of God, don't tell him that... he'll keep it for the next four years!!

 

One of my favourite photos of Danny and I.  While we were taking this photo, Gracie was chewing on a different part of the fence, covered in duck poop.  Also, Ella climbed onto a fence rail and got stuck.  Michelle rescued her when she started screaming.  Ahhh, the memories!

  

 

Yeah, that face on Ella.  It basically says everything there is to say about the end of our photoshoot.  She was done.  Done like dinner.  She did not want to smile anymore, and although I'm smiling and "hugging" her here, and we look like a loving mother-daughter team, I was actually mere moments from losing my shit, and I was holding on to her because she kept trying to pull away.  I'm pretty sure I had just whispered, "If you don't stand here for one more picture, I'm going to take you into the woods and let that dog pee on you. Let me love you, damn it!"  So, naturally, we got this face for the picture.  Still kind of cute though, if you didn't know that I just threatened my kid with dog pee.  Also, immediately after this picture, I let her go and she fell off the log.  Parenting fail.

 

 

Isn't this a cute picture?  The girls "playing" on the ground.  Really, Ella had knocked Gracie over, and a moment before this, I'm pretty sure Gracie was screaming.  But Michellle turned that moment into this.

 

 

The sweetest moment of the day.  Such an amazing picture, and one that will be going up on the girls' wall.  Except that Ella was crying because she was soooo done with this day, and just wanted to go home.  She refused to smile and only stopped whining because Gracie took care of her.  I get it kid, I wanted to cry by this time, too!!

 

Last photo of the day.  A picture of daddy and Jax in their matching hats.  It was the end of a long hour, and I expected it to be difficult for them to get a decent picture.  Except, didn't I get Jax to smile right away?  Danny got this amazing picture without any trouble, or groaning, or crying, or screaming.  The bastard.

We did Christmas photos a few weekends ago, too.  The photos went so smoothly.  The girls smiled, Jax smiled, and the photos turned out awesome!

Want to know what happened leading up to the photos?  That day was the Somerset craft fair.  Three million people decided to attend the craft fair, so we had to park a kilometre away, walk in the freezing cold, rub shoulders with said million people, and try really hard not to lose one of the kids (thank God, we have three kids - we have back-ups, in case we lose one!).  In the afternoon, I realized that I didn't have hair clips for the girls.  I only have pink, and pink doesn't match red dresses.  Corny, I know, but we need matching hair bows.  So once I got everybody down for their naps, I had to run to Walmart, pick up hair clips, rush home, wake up the girls, wrestle them into their dresses, fix hair, and time it perfectly so that I have just enough time to get Jax dressed and still manage to get out the door on time.  See, our photo session was booked for 3:45.  Jax usually sleeps until 4, so we were waking a sleeping baby.  Thankfully, he woke up smiling, and I juggled him into that adorable little outfit you see in that picture up there.  I sat him up, and my reflux-baby power barfed all over my arm and his black pants.  I cursed.  Very loudly.  Multiple times.  Danny came running.  When he realized that we weren't dying in the bedroom, he went back to loading the girls into the car.  I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater, which managed to catch all of the barf that didn't land on his own pants.  I checked my watch.  No time to change, of course.  I took his pants off, soaked them with baby wipes, and took off his sweater.  He was NOT getting barf on that!  I rolled up my sleeve (cause what else could I do at this point?) and headed out the door.  Danny had the girls ready, and he was smart enough not to question why I was bringing our infant son out into the freezing cold wearing no pants, no socks, and no sweater.  If he was going to barf again, it would not be on that outfit, damn it!

We started driving to Michelle's house.  All I could smell was sour, disgusting, barf.  I smelled. Like barf.  I started crying.  Danny started laughing and asked me what was wrong.  Know what I said??  "This is why I can't have nice things!"  Okay, so it wasn't Jax's fault that I timed getting him ready to the last possible minute, and it wasn't his fault that he has reflux and power barfs all the f'ing time.  And it isn't his fault I hadn't done the laundry that weekend and had nothing quick to change into.  But I was blaming him, gosh darn it.  It was not a pretty drive.  Luckily, I pulled myself together before we got there, and was able to explain to Michelle why we showed up with a mostly-naked baby.  And in the end, the photos turned out great, despite my meltdown!
 

We've been lucky enough to find ourselves the most amazing photographer.  I give a huge shout-out to Michelle Darrell and Daydreamer Photography.  She's incredibly patient with the kids, and with their crazy, cranky parents. She jumps and wiggles, and always manages to get smiles out of everybody just when they're needed.  She is the most accommodating photographer I have ever met, and she truly understands the "joys" of having and photographing children.  Plus, she knows me well enough that when I threaten my kids with bodily harm, and curse at my husband out loud in public, she knows that I don't really mean it.  I'm just being "photo mom."  The mom that every mom turns into when they need good pictures.  I mean, every mom must turn crazy like me, right?  Everybody else must have as horrible a time as me, right?  Doesn't family photos make every mom cry, have nightmares and meltdowns, and want to drink an entire box of wine in one setting??  Anyone?!

A Month of Sundays...

It's hard to believe that's been a full month and a half since I've written a blog post. I don't think I have ever gone that long without writing! But since having Jax, and bringing the girls home from daycare, I find most of my thoughts and anecdotes have been reduced to a line or two shared on Facebook. I just don't seem to have the energy these days to actually sit down and compose a whole paragraph, let alone an entire post!  So let me break down the last 6 weeks for you:

The God Complex

Gracie and I have had many conversations lately about God, heaven, and angels.  I'm not sure if it's a stage and age thing, or if my girl is just naturally spiritual, but she seems awfully interested in everything I can't answer!  We had a very lengthy conversation about the angel, Sarah, who apparently visits her at night.  Sarah is a lady who got really old and then died, and who visits Gracie late at night and early in the morning.  Gracie tells me that Sarah is her angel.  And I'm not going to lie, it creeps me out, just a little bit!

Gracie is also quite certain that God is a girl.  She started Sunday School classes this year, and comes home every week with lots of questions.  Most I can handle, but I didn't expect the disagreement she feels about the fact that God is a boy.  She says it's not fair for both Jesus and God to be boys and, therefore, God must be girl.  Gracie now refers to God as "she."  As in, "Does God send the snow to us?  She's pretty awesome for doing that!"  Ahhh, my little feminist!

 

 

The Mommy-Daughter Date

I had the pleasure of taking Gracie and Ella on our first official mommy-daughter date.  The girls usually enjoy those dates with their dad (daddy-daughter dates), so I was very excited to announce that I would be taking them on one.  It wasn't terribly well received at first.  I got a couple "are you sure you don't mean daddy date?" and even a "why can't dad take us instead, and you can stay home with Jax?"  But as the days went by they got more and more excited.  My church was hosting a family movie night, showing Frozen, which I hadn't seen before.  When Friday night came, we got dressed in our jammies, stuffed my purse full of leftover Halloween candy, and headed to the church.  When we pulled in, Ella said to me "Mommy, we always come here. I don't think this counts as a mommy-daughter date!" followed by Gracie saying, "It's okay mommy, I'm sure you can do better next time."  We ended up having a pretty great time, and ate 3 bowls of popcorn (free popcorn tastes so much better than $10 popcorn!!).  And, by the way, Frozen is a pretty rockin' movie!!

 

The Boy

 

The Boy, also known lovingly as Jax, Jax-man, Little Man, and Dicky-Bird (that last one must be a Newfie thing and, for the record, I hate it!).  Oh yeah, and Sticky-Bird, cause the girls can't figure out what Danny is saying.  Anyway, Jax is now a whopping 18-pound, 5-month old baby.  He sits, and screams, and oohs and ahhs, and keeps us all entertained!  At least a few times a week, Gracie or Ella say to me, "Mommy, Jax is the perfect little brother.  Just what I always wanted!!"  Today Ella asked me if I could, pretty please, go back to the hospital and bring home another boy so Jax could have a friend.  I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and said "Absolutely. NOT!"  It's kind of wonderful passing through every crappy baby stage and knowing that this is the last time we have to deal with it. No more breastfeeding, no more 3-times-a-night feedings, no more 1-time-a-night feedings.  We just get to look forward to rolling, crawling, walking, talking, and all the good things to come!

 

Here he is at five months... such a looker!!

 

 

 

 

The House

 

Last night we had our real estate agent into the house... having a look at the house, and telling us what still needs to be done to get ready to sell.  We have a list already of things that need to be done; kitchen flooring, framing the bathroom mirror, repairing broken tiles, painting baseboards, painting, cleaning, and decluttering.  Our agent agreed with our list, and told us he really wanted to have the house listed by the end of January, early February at the latest.  That's 10 weeks from now.  Less Christmas, means around 8 weeks.  It's crazy.  I've been walking around the house all day, just staring at things, making mental lists of things to do.  It's going to be a crazy 10 weeks!  But I am looking forward to renting a storage locker and emptying this house of crap.  Maybe some stuff will get "lost" on the way to storage, and I wont have to find a new home for it in our new home.  I'm looking forward to painting, to cleaning, and freshening the house up.  And I'm looking forward to selling this house and moving to a new, fresh, clean house.  It's going to take a lot of elbow grease, and a lot of wine, to get through the next 10 weeks. Challenge accepted! 

 

 

The End

 

That's it for now... that's all I have the energy to write tonight.  I've missed sharing the stories of my children, especially since everything that comes out of their mouths is hilarious.  With all the chaos that is sure to take place in the next two months, I know I will have some stories to tell.  Here's hoping my fingers and brain can keep up with it all, and I can begin sharing their hilarity again!

Playing together...

Danny and I have a pretty perfect little family.  I mean, we actually have the 2.4 kids (Jax can't really count as a whole kid yet, can he?), and two girls and a boy mean things are fairly even in this house.  Not to mention that there's between a year and a half and two years between each of the kids, and we've struck child gold.  That means we get to enjoy all those good things people say about having kids close together.  For example, that they play together!

When it was just Gracie playing, she used to lay on the playmats in our living room and colour.  Quietly.  Sometimes she would sing songs, and it was just adorable.  She would play like that for hours, perfectly content to entertain herself.  Then Ella became old enough to play with her and, wow, did our lives improve.  I mean, from playing quietly by oneself, to two active toddlers playing with each other?  The change has been fantastic!

For those of you unaware of what it is like to have two toddlers play together, let me describe it for you.  Because it is just amazing!  First, let me set the scene for you:

The living room is clean, there are plenty of toys to be shared, and the two toddlers have enjoyed a good night's sleep.  This is a recipe for awesomeness!  But let's not forget the other components to this scenario.  If you would, please pinch the nearest baby extra hard so that you can have some background noise to the "playing" that is about to take place.  Also, please turn a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove, and let it start boiling and bubbling everywhere (good moms multi-task, dontcha know!). For good measure, and only if you're brave enough, please find some sort of mechanism or person to continually pinch your nipples over and over again to signify a breastfeeding mother enjoying the "playing."  If they could make the nipples bleed, that would be ideal.  Oh, but don't use your husband.  He should be strategically placed, either (a) in the bathroom with his computer, having a 2-hour poop, (b) on the couch "helping" to watch the kids while staring into his cell phone and developing sudden hearing loss, or (c) outside doing chores, because even though the lawn hasn't been mowed for 3 weeks, he knows "playing" is about to occur and chores must be completed this very minute.  If you have animals, please have your dog maniacally hump your cat over and over again while the cat tries to run away, hissing the whole time.  Of course, the dog should follow, quickly and clumsily, knocking over and into anything in her way.

Okay, everybody ready?  Let the "playing" commence.

Gracie and Ella have decided to play Barbies.  A favourite past-time.  They're close in age, which means they have the same ideas about how to play Barbies.  Today, the Barbie sisters are going to the doctor.

Gracie: "Ella, it's time to take Anna to the doctor."

Ella: "No."

Gracie: "Ella, I'm older and you have to listen to me."

Ella: "No."

Gracie: "Fine.  Then Suzy is going to the doctor without Anna!"

Ella: "Noooooo!!!"

Gracie runs down the hall with her Barbie, Suzy, while Ella runs after her, screaming for Gracie not to leave Anna behind.  They both eventually make it to the doctor, and Ella only cries a little bit.

Ella: "Gracie, I'll be the doctor, okay?"

Gracie: "Fine, but then I get to be the doctor after."

Ella: "Okay.  Here Suzy, it's time to get a needle."

Gracie: "Suzy doesn't need a needle, because she's really a secret monster with scary powers and she's going to eat the doctor!!!"

Ella: "Ahhhhh!  I don't like monsters!!!  Mommmmmmy, Gracie is being a scary monster!"

Gracie: "No, I'm NOT, mommy!!!!!"

Ella: "Yes she are!!"

Gracie: *whispers* "If you tell mommy on me, a monster will eat you, too!"

Ella: *screams*

They sort out the monster situation and start playing again.  They each decide to add another Barbie to the game.  More Barbies mean more fun.  Obviously.

Gracie: "Oh, look!  Another Barbie, I think I'll use this one!"

Ella: "I want that one!"

Gracie: "No, it's mine."

Ella: "I want it!"

Gracie: "You want it?  Okay, here."

Ella: *reaches for Barbie*

Gracie: "Hahaha, just kidding!"

Ella: *screams and cries*

Gracie: "Fine, here take it.  I'll take this one instead.  It has magic powers anyway."

Ella: "I want magic powers!"

Gracie: "You can't have magic powers, I'm the big sister, and you're just the little one."

Ella: *hits Gracie in the face*

Gracie: "Mommy, Ella hit me!!"

Ella: "Gracie said I couldn't have magic powers!"

Thank goodness, play time has only just started, so we have lots more of this wonderfulness to endure.  After about 15 minutes of playing together, the conversation looks something like this:

Gracie: "Ellllla!!"

Ella: "Unnnngh!"

Gracie: "Ellllllllllllla!!!!!!"

Ella: "NOOOOOO!"

Gracie: *shrieks*

Ella: *shrieks louder*

Gracie: *pushes Ella over*

Ella: *jumps on top of Gracie's head*

Gracie: "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Ella: *spitting sound*

Yes, having kids close together in age means they can entertain each other for hours.  Of course, mothers only need intervene every 4.2 seconds, and only dole out time-outs every 4th or 5th transgression.  If you're a smart mommy, like me, you will learn to send them to a room far across the house to play, where you only have to hear the loudest and most pain-filled cries, and can pretend, just for a few moments, that your children are playing quietly and peacefully together.  

And, thankfully for us, in another year and a half, we can add a third toddler to this playing mix, to increase the awesomeness of playing together.  It's going to be fantastic, wonderful, and just  absolutely delightful! :)

They always look like this when they play together, I swear!!