Team Summer!

I freaking love summer.

I know, shocking, right??

But seriously, this is a fairly new development for me.  Up until pretty recently, I was always on Team Winter.  I used to (stupidly) love the colder weather and shorter days.  I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME!!  But, the important thing is that I've now come to my senses and realized that I belong in warm weather, all the time, and if I never have to see the temperature dip below 25C ever again I would be one happy Momma.  I've actually been putting a lot of thought into this, trying to figure out what made me switch teams. I think having kids contributed to it; it's a lot easier to go anywhere without having to load up with everyone's coats and sweaters and boots and mitts and toques and scarves and OH MY GOD I am starting to feel anxious just thinking about it all.  I also started realizing winter kind of sucked when I had to start shoveling my own driveway.  Then, we started spending more time in Arizona, and I think that is what really solidified it for me - winter blows, and I clearly have no business living in Canada!  I have spent far too much time researching real estate in Scottsdale and if it wasn't such a giant pain in the ass to move to a different country, and if my husband could get a job down there that paid more that 10 bucks an hour, and if I didn't have to like, get a Visa and take a test about past presidents and wars and shit, and promise to be a good American and all of that jazz, I swear I would pack up everything and move there in a heartbeat, just to be able to be warm ALL THE TIME.

But, alas, here we are in the Great White North, and I guess that means I have to deal with winter.  And I know I can't complain; we've got it good up here.  It just means that I have every intention of taking full advantage of all things summer while the hot weather is here!

Things like the Slip 'N Slide:

And super-cute Maxi Dresses:

And celebrating good friends getting married:

And swimming as much as we possibly can:

And golfing:

And scootering around at 8:30pm in full sunshine, wearing pajamas, flip flops, and the coolest helmet ever:

And frequent, long trips to the playground:

And drinking delicious green vodka slush in the hot sun:

And EPIC temperatures:

And holidays with the family that end in everyone exhausted and happy; and trips to the beach that end with sand in horrible places; and barbecues with friends that end with tipsy goodbyes and promises to do it again soon; and heading down to Music in the Park with a blanket and some ice cream and enjoying the warm nights; and putting the sprinkler on the trampoline and kind of jump-sliding around on it; and sitting out on the patio until you realize you have no idea what time it is and didn't even notice that it had gotten dark; and bike rides and cold beer and ponytails and tank tops and no makeup and dark suntans and the smell of the kids' sunscreen and the fact that they are outside 90% of the time that they are awake.

Happy Summer, y'all.

And be sure to stop by anytime for a cold beer or a big fat glass of slushy vodka.

I need a new title.

"MOM!!!"

"Hey, Mom, guess what? I have an itchy foot."

"Momma, I know what 30 plus 5 equals!"

"Mom, where do mushrooms grow?"

"Momma, can we go to the pool today?"

"Hey, Mom, watch this!!!!"

"You know what Mommy, I really love marshmallows."

"MOM!!  THE CAT IS SCRATCHING THE CARPET AGAIN!"

"Mommmmmmmmmm!!! Please tell AJ to leave me alone!"

"Mommmmmmmmmm!!!  Please tell Mackenzie to let me play with her!"

"Mom, I can read this book you know, it's a super hard one.  Want to hear it?  Mom?  MOM?!?  WANT TO HEAR ME READ THIS BOOK??  MOM!!!"

"Mom!!  I need help wiping my bum!"

"Hey Momma, what are we doing today?"

"How many mosquito bites do I have, Mommy?"

"Momma, my Hot Wheels are all lined up in the McDonald's drive-thru."

"Momma, my Barbies are having a dance show."

"Let's listen to Drive By again, Mom!"

"I don't need clothes today, Momma, just my bathing suit!"

"Mom, did you know that the place with the most redheads is Scotland!"

"MOM!!!!  WHY AREN'T YOU LISTENING TO US?!?!?!?!  M-O-O-O-O-O-OMM!!"

Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom.  All of the above took place within about 12 seconds of my kids waking up this morning.  I love being a mommy more than anything but I swear to God if I hear my name one more time I am going to either jump out the window, or get really really drunk, or make the kids give me a quarter every time they say any variation of the word MOM.

It's gonna be a long summer!

This makes me feel better.

I'm sick.

I know, right?!  It's frickin' July.  Who gets sick in JULY?!


Since about 5:00 yesterday afternoon, I've felt like I got hit by a semi, and it's progressively gotten worse.  As I write this, I'm in head-to-toe fleece; my eyes are red, half-closed, and running; my head feels like it's going to explode; the simple act of swallowing my spit makes me want to cry; and I have a tissue shoved up each nostril.

For real, y'all, I am a total babe right now.

We were in Vancouver for the weekend.  At one point, we took the skytrain into the city.  I am totally blaming this bout of complete disgusting-ness on the stupid skytrain.  Even though I thoroughly drenched myself in hand sanitizer, clearly Bath and Body Works is no match for the dirty slimy crawling infestation of germs that is public transit.  **shudder**

Now, normally, I am a pretty good sick person.  I am pretty good at sucking it up.  This evening, however, I had zero interest in "sucking it up".  Shawn and his buddy headed out to a movie at 7:20, leaving me and my pile of snot rags to care for the kids, so I really can't say I was all that sad for him when he came back in the door at 7:45 and told me it was sold out.  I passed the little darlings off to him, and promptly crawled onto the couch with a giant fleece blanket (yep, more fleece, I look like a goddamn hypothermia victim), a big box of tissues, and my iPhone.

And I did what is guaranteed to make me feel better:  I headed over to YouTube.

Now, because I just feel selfish keeping this kind of awesomeness to myself, I would like to share with you my most favorite videos on YouTube.  These literally make me laugh so hard that I can't breathe, and then I start to choke and a little bit of pee comes out.  True story.  Maybe don't sit on my living room couch.  Or use my fleece blanket.

ANYWAY, I'm not going to post the link, because I have no clue if I am legally allowed to do that, and you know, I hardly have time to Google that information, and I REALLY don't have time to get involved in some sort of crazy Internet legal battle over copyright laws, so you're just going to have to do the work yourself.  And trust me when I say, this shit is WORTH IT.  Here are the steps:

Go to YouTube.

Type in "GUY ON A BUFFALO"

You will see 4, 2-minute videos.

Watch them (#2 is the funniest).

Pee your pants.

You're welcome.

Thank God it's OVER!

Well, that's it.

The end of another school year.

I guess technically, tomorrow's the end.  But really, I hardly think an hour and a half of assembly time, with recess, snack, desk and locker cleaning, and dismissal at noon counts as a school day!

This year was...uh...well, it was...interesting.

My son started Kindergarten.  In the beginning, he was all set to go into the full Kindergarten class at the school.  But thanks to some late registration and general administration kerfluffle, they ended up having to add a K/1 split class.  And despite my several pleading requests, both in writing and verbally, to please keep him in the full K, he got placed in the split.  I was pissed.  He was emotionally immature (in my opinion) and he also has a late birthday, so he was still 4 for the first two months of school - and in a class with Grade 1's.  Instead of having 22 peers his own age in his classroom, he only had 6.  I was pretty upset, but I managed to keep Momma Bear in check, and decided it is what it is, and he will be fine.  And he was fine...he was more than fine.  He still made lots of friends from the other class, and academically (that word makes me laugh when we're talking about 5-year-olds!) he is doing extremely well.  So it's good.  It's all good.

In September, my daughter started Grade 2.  Her Grade 1 experience was absolutely fantastic; it was her first year at this school, the teachers were great, and she instantly clicked with a bunch of girls in her class.  Everything about her Grade 1 year was really, really, super.  So, like a bunch of dummies, we headed in to Grade 2 thinking it would be the same.

Big, big mistake.

You know how they say to never assume anything?  Well, they're right.

That whole late-registration thing threw the whole frickin' school into a tizzy for the entire first week of September.  And when the class lists were finally posted, my daughter was completely separated from her peers.  In fact, they could not have made her feel more alone if they had tried.  Out of the 11 little girls in her Grade 1 class, NINE of them had been placed in the other Grade 2 class, and TWO of them in Mackenzie's.  Her, and one other girl.  The REST were together, and MY CHILD was separated.  It should be noted here that not only was she split from her girlfriends, but also a few boys that she had gotten close to as well.  She walked into her Grade 2 classroom completely alone, while 9 (!!!) of her friends walked into their classroom, all together, on the other side of the school.

And you know what I did?

I lost my goddamn mind.

I had what you might call a "complete f***ing temper tantrum" in the principal's office, and went full-out Momma Bear on his ass.  It was awful, and in retrospect, completely embarrassing.  I cried.  I swore.  I accused him of not paying one bit of attention to the class lists.  I told him that it looked like he made it his mission to alienate my child.  I demanded to know how it was even possible to have such an uneven split.  My rational mind knew that she'd been placed with a wonderful teacher, and that she was going to have to face this life experience at some point, but all I wanted to do was stomp my feet, demand that she be moved, shove the principal out of the way, march over to Mackenzie's new classroom, drag her out, and put her in the classroom with her friends.  But, of course, I didn't.  Which is probably a good thing; I'm pretty sure that shoving the principal would be grounds for a restraining order and permanent dismissal from the school forever.  When I finally stopped crying, like, five days later, I thought - OK - she is a strong little girl, and she is going to be fine.

But here's the thing: I don't actually think she was fine.

She made new friends, she absolutely LOVES her teacher, and I know she had a great classroom experience.  We could not have asked for anything better on that front.

But socially, she is shy.  And we worked really hard on her friendships in Grade 1.  And approaching a group of people is very hard for her to do.  And she felt more and more distanced from her friends with every passing school day.  And at least once a week, for an entire school year, she would tell me that she missed her friends and wished she were with them.  It broke my heart, and it still does, and I will never, ever forget the mixture of sadness and rage I felt when I looked at that class list for the first time.  She still had lots of playdates with her old buddies, and birthday parties and sleepovers and stuff like that, but she wasn't with them every day on the school yard, even though she really, really wanted to be.  I literally feel physical pain when I think about it.

So to say that I'm glad this year is over?

Giant understatement.

5 things that are making me stupider.

I decided the other night to sit down and bust through a few shows I had PVR'd over the past few weeks.  I hit "LIST" to see what was on there, and then I laughed out loud.  My taste in TV shows is really rather embarrassing, and I'm quite certain that I kill a significant number of brain cells with every episode I watch.

With that, I give you the FIVE MOST RIDICULOUS SHOWS THAT I ACTUALLY BOTHER TO PVR.

1. My 600-lb Life.  So obviously, this is about people who are 600 (or more) pounds.  And they can't leave the house, or get themselves dressed, or get up to go pee, or roll over, or do ANYTHING, and frankly, it's fascinating.  Whenever I feel like a fat mess (which happens to be frequently, as of late), I turn this show on, and I instantly feel better.  It's like whenever I feel like my house is out of control, I just check out an episode of Hoarders.  Which doesn't help with getting the house cleaned, you know, because I'm very busy sitting on my ass watching TV, shoving Cheezies into my pie-hole - but hey, at least my house doesn't look like that, and I'm not 600 pounds!

2. Gene Simmons Family Jewels.  I've always gotten a kick out of this show.  It's always been fun, but lately, it got a little more serious - there's a lot about the family in therapy, and Gene Simmons' indiscretions with multitudes of women over the past bunch of years.  One episode revolved around a key that his wife, Shannon, found in their garage, which turned out to be for a safety deposit box that held like 12 portfolios, hundreds of pages in each, with thousands of pictures of naked women he had taken with a Polaroid over the years.  Is this good for their marriage?  Of course not.  Is it quality television programming?  Oh, HELL yes.  But the real question here is, SERIOUSLY?!  Have these women SEEN Gene Simmons??  Like actually LOOKED at him??  He ain't pretty, folks.  Not even a little.

3. Sister Wives.  We've talked about this one before.  I need sister wives.  I really, really do.  My friends and I do something that we call "Fun Friday", where a bunch of us gather at someone's house with all of our kids, they run around and play and have a great time, and we mommies eat our faces off and drink wine and visit.  It's so fun.  But I had to leave Drunk Friday early today, stone-cold sober, so I could take Mackenzie to piano lessons.  If I had sister wives, I would've just sent her off with one of them, stayed at the shindig, and really made something out of Drunk Friday.  See?  YET ANOTHER REASON WHY SISTER WIVES ARE A GENIUS SOLUTION TO ALL OF YOUR FAMILY PROBLEMS.

4. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.  This shit is bananas.  I love it.  I can't believe it's real.  I can't believe people live like this.  Where do they get the money for all of their fancy stuff?  Those insane wedding dresses must be like $40,000 each.  They might live in travel-trailers, but still.  They have very expensive clothes, very expensive cars, and just a very extravagant lifestyle, and they certainly don't seem to do anything that looks like it would be enough to pay for such a lifestyle.  It's mind-blowing.  Since my kids were babies I have always used the threat, "If you don't stop (hitting, biting, talking back, taking your clothes off at inappropriate times, kicking me, kicking your brother, etc), I am going to send you to live with the gypsies."  But I've had to stop using that one with Mackenzie, because she's seen enough of the show to know that those people have the BEST DRESSES EVER (to a 7-year-old) and would gladly ditch us to go live with them, just for the chance to wear an 80-pound floofy giant glitter-bombed dress shaped like a peacock that lights up with 1000 tiny Christmas lights with every move she makes.

5. Monster-In-Laws.  Seriously, just watch it.  Then go and hug your inlaws, no matter how freaking nuts they are, and thank them for being SO NORMAL.

Oh, and hey, guess what:  BIG BROTHER STARTS JULY 12!

Clearly there is no hope for me.

I should probably go buy more Cheezies.

Mommy's feeling crazy right now...

Do you ever feel like you want to crawl into a hole, any hole, even if it's filled with angry carpenter ants, just to hide from your kids?  Are you guilty of locking yourself in the bathroom and sitting in an empty bathtub, just to get five seconds of silence?  Have you found yourself bringing beer (or perhaps something stronger) in a metal travel mug to their soccer games?  Did you spend any time last week crying on your kitchen floor because they're JUST SO GODDAMN DIFFICULT THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO ANYMORE?!?!

If your answer to any of the above is "yes", then congratulations, friends...in my humble opinion you are 100% normal.  If you answered "no", you are either a) NOT a momma; b) you are a very NEW momma; or c) you spend most of your life drunk and oblivious.

Again - just my humble opinion.

So the reason behind this post, is my 5-year-old son.  My sweet, loving, adorably handsome, brilliant little boy.  I love that kid more than words could ever describe.  I am guilty of making him promise me that he will always love me more than he loves his wife.  Shawn says I'm traumatizing him by doing this.  I don't care.  He's my baby boy, and dammit, he always will be.

And sometimes?  He is a giant shit.

Lately, it's been especially bad.  It's hard sometimes to really pinpoint exactly what it is he does that makes me so crazy, but it's mostly just general behavioral and lack of respect issues, and it is constant.  I will ask him to do something non-negotiable, such as brush his teeth before school; he will argue with me over it (little side note here, NOTHING pisses me off more than having something like that argued.  You do not have a choice in this.  Brushing your teeth before school is mandatory and it is a battle you will never win.  So why, oh why, are you fighting me on it?!?!)  I will try to hug him; he will punch me in the arm and giggle.  I will send him for a time out; he will stick his tongue out at me, or make this spitting motion and sound without actually spitting at me.  And this one is a teeny-tiny bit funny now, but at the time it sure wasn't: last week after soccer, he came into the house, stripped down to nothing but his shin pads and soccer socks, and started shakin' his thang in the front window.  WHO DOES THAT!?!?  Seriously!!!  WTF??

And what's especially frustrating is that this kid is the textbook definition of a perfect student when he is at school.  I had one teacher tell me she wishes she "had a classroom full of AJ's."  Another informed me that he is the role model for the other students in the class.  And it needs to be noted that these comments are not one-off's - I get this A LOT.  Eventually, instead of making me happy and proud, like they did in the beginning, these comments from his teachers and coaches actually started to really piss me off.  WHO is this kid?  And WHY do I never, ever get to have him?  Why do they get this perfect child, and I get someone who I am constantly fighting with?  He pulls shit with me that he would never even dream of doing with his teachers, the principal, his coaches, his grandparents, and so on.  Everybody else gets this model child, and I get a brat - all. the. time.

I've taken away his Wii and iPad privileges.  He doesn't care.

I've taken away his special blanket.  He doesn't care.

I made him sit out the first five minutes of his soccer game yesterday.  He still got to play after that, so he doesn't care.

I've made him stay in his room alone for hours on end while Mackenzie and I enjoy some fun activity.  Say it with me now - He. Doesn't. Care.

We started a reward system using uncooked pasta noodles (25 noodles and they get a prize).  Mackenzie has 21.  AJ has 3.  He keeps losing them, thanks to his craptastic behavior.  And yep, you guessed it - he doesn't care.

I'm out of ideas, I'm at a loss, and I'm really, really f***ing frustrated (hence the crying fit in my kitchen last Wednesday.  It wasn't pretty, and if there was ever a time I felt like I had no right to be a mother, it was that moment.)  I know he understands.  I know he's aware of how he's behaving.  I know that he knows how to behave appropriately, because he does it at school and with his sports teams.  He understands right from wrong and he knows damn well what he's doing.

He just refuses to exhibit any sort of appropriate behavior when he is with me.  And my patience with him is totally gone.  I'm not proud of this, and frankly it's embarrassing to have no idea what to do with your own child.  But it's the truth.  I am starting to feel like I might actually be losing my freaking mind.

I was chatting with my friend V about it this morning.  Her kids are young too and she understands.  She had a great piece of advice: whenever you're feeling that mad at him, and you're still mad when he goes to bed, make sure you go back in  his room at some point and watch him sleep.

Tonight?  It kinda worked.

Tomorrow's a new day...

Apparently, it's do-nothing Monday.

I've just returned home from a few days of shopping in the states with my friend J.  It was awesome.  We shopped our asses off.  I'm not even kidding.  We left our hotel room at 9:30 on Friday morning, and we got back at 10:15 that night.  And that didn't even include any time devoted to a real sit-down meal, only a quick (and GIANT) plate of Panda Express at one of the food courts along the way.  I was armed with loads of diet Coke, she had her trusty iced tea at the ready, we ate Auntie Anne's pretzels from the mall kiosks whenever we got hungry, and we just shopped the ENTIRE time.

It was so much fun.

And, of course, as you can imagine, we came home with a ton of new stuff (thank you, Very Important Government People, for changing the border limits!!!)  Clothes for ourselves, clothes for our kids, toys, stuff for our houses, makeup and beauty products, all the awesome junk food and fun groceries we can't get in Canada, cheap alcohol, coolers full of cheese, and so on.  We took full advantage of the Stow'N'Go option in my minivan, and baby, we filled that bitch to the top.

We got home Saturday evening.

And all the shit I bought still isn't unpacked.

Not to mention the fact that Shawn was home alone with the kids while I was gone, and while the house was certainly tidy when I returned home, it definitely wasn't "clean" the way I like it to be (I'm a bit of a freak that way.)

And you know, I thought, oh, well, I'll do it on Sunday.  But Shawn had to work on Sunday, and it didn't seem fair to make the kids entertain themselves while I unpacked and cleaned up.  It seemed like a far better idea to just leave the house in its state of chaos, and go to my parents' nice clean tidy house and sit on my ass over there for much of the day.  Then, Shawn and I went to the Bryan Adams concert last night, so obviously nothing got done then either.  Which is all well and fine, really, considering the fact that my kids have school during the day and I have dick-all to do all day, so I told myself that yes, definitely, for sure I would get all the shit unpacked and the house cleaned today, and I would start as soon as I got home from taking them to school at 8:30.

It's 1:45 right now.

So far, I've put my pajamas back on, climbed back into bed, had a quick power nap, read some of my book, played a little Words With Friends, eaten some pop tarts and half a box of Kraft Dinner, sharpened all the pencil crayons in the kids' craft drawers, texted people, talked on the phone for an hour and a half, and farted around on Facebook.

I have NOT made beds, cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed, done laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, dusted, or unpacked from the trip I got home from two days ago.

I'm now trying to figure out how to make it LOOK like I actually did something today...you know, without actually having to DO anything...because clearly, getting anything done today just isn't in the cards.

Any ideas???