Don't you love it when you go out to a restaurant or somewhere and just as you are all ready to order, your kids pull a fast one?

Labels: Battle, EvieG

I love the holiday season and getting into the holiday spirit. What I mean by this is that I can use this time of year as some serious leverage when it comes to the shenanigans of the Wee Ladies. No, no friends. It's not all the cookies and shopping, presents and chopped trees that have me giggly. It's that I have Santa on my side. We are a United Front. Santa's watching your kids.

Labels: Battle

Illness is infiltrating our house. EvieG was off most of last week with a virus. May have been the HiNee (H1N1) or some other bug. She is still coughing a bit. The Destroyer has a urinary tract infection. I am entering week four with a head cold. But I started taking Cold FX.

Labels: Battle, Mission

Sayonara to the Soo Soo! And to diapers too! There have been lots of changes going on around here! The Destroyer has kicked her soother habit and bid farewell to diapers. While this is liberating, it also means my last baby is growing bigger all the time. But today, we talk addictions.

Labels: Battle, The Destroyer

We've been running around a lot the past couple of weeks. From here to there and there to here. I have started up a new business. And it's called DDM Cab Co.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Mission

At the request of some, I am writing the follow up to EvieG's camping trip. Click here to read about how she graduated Kindergarten and left for two nights away on her own all in one day. She had a great time, but it wasn't without incident.

Labels: Battle, EvieG

There is nothing I dislike more than public restrooms. They are germ harbouring stations that keep illnesses spreading like wildfire. I have three Wee Ladies with small bladders. Having to take them into a public washroom always gives me the hee-bee-gee-bees.

Labels: Battle

We have had some trouble sleeping around here. Not so much trouble, I guess. It is more of a I'm-up-waaaaay-too-early kind of problem. Just 5 more minutes doesn't apply here. It is the I-didn't-even-hear-the-rooster-call-baby-and-there-is-no-way I find myself saying every morning. Spark Plug and The Destroyer share a room and are up at the crack of the first ray of sun, even when it pushes its way through the cloud cover. We put a stop to this crazy, insane nonsense.

Labels: Battle

Breaking bad toddler habits. Is there any better way to spend 3 hours during a power outage? This is what I did solo last night. I pulled a Supernanny, brought the hammer down, and worked on getting Spark Plug and The Destroyer to bed at the same time and in the same room. This was not easy.

Labels: Battle

Someone tell me- why is that whenever I go out anywhere, one of my kids always has to do a number? Or cause a commotion, or break something, or just become completely uncontrollable? Tell me. Please. Because I don't get it.

My Wee Ladies are always getting up to some kind of mischief when we go out anywhere. They rearrange things on the shelves at the store, drop stuff, or even crawl around on a filthy floor. The inevitable practice? Stinking up the immediate environment. Always.

EvieG had her final Sparks dinner last night. Hubby had a dinner engagement with his colleagues, which meant I had to take the entire entourage with me. To a sit down dinner. Ugh. Sparks happens in the church basement and we weren't there five minutes when we were shown the way to the door. Not the way out of the building thankfully, but the way to the church playroom. Yay us. We had to keep Spark Plug and The Destroyer contained somewhere.

I managed to get one plate of buns and cheese. I make healthy choices for my kids. This plate of food was dinner number 2. Our first dinner happened at McDonald's at our regular eating time. Healthy choices. The second dinner happened an hour and a half later. So really it was more of a healthy snack. Followed by cake. One plate, four people- the Wee Ladies and I. The Destroyer was in my lap as I held her down with all my might, Spark Plug was at my side, and EvieG across the table using a knife to butter her bun. One plate was all I could manage as I held onto The Destroyer for dear life as she squirmed like I was the jaws of life clenched around her. There was no way I was letting the drink cart fall over on my watch. Sparkle was kind enough to provide us with a couple of more plates.

The night went on and we made it through without any major catastrophes. There were a few laps around the room, but for the most part we came, ate, and returned to our room of 4 heaven-painted walls.

Then it was time for the ceremony. The presentation where 2nd year Sparks move up to Brownies and where the girls get some badges. This meant it was time for both Spark Plug and The Destroyer to unleash the depths of their bowels. Almost simultaneously. Why, I ask? Why is the timing so utterly perfect?

Poor EvieG had to hang on without me for a few minutes during my search for a clean floor to change, stink, bathroom, running out of toilet paper, washing of the hands, getting the bag as far away from the crowd as possible mission. We didn't miss anything with her, thank goodness. But man! Heads kept turning our way as I sat down, got up, exited, returned, took a bite, exited, came back in, slugged some water, and wiped away the beads of sweat, only to leave again. For good- three Wee Ladies in tow. Well, 2 actually, and 1 under my arm like a football.

Exhaustion.

One of my friends was there to help me by watching one while I changed the other. Sparkle did her best to help too. We weren't completely alone, although it felt like it. This is a new level of tired, situations like these. When you are out and watching everyone at the same time, it completely drains you. Especially when you are being watched by everyone else. You want to keep the kids somewhat calm, but it doesn't always work like that. People are generally supportive, but it still doesn't change the fact that you are in a space where things are set up; there is a certain structure. And you sure as heck don't want your kids to be the ones to screw it all up.

We got home and I got them to bed as fast as I could. Only to sit down, gulp down half a glass of wine, and go to bed.

How about getting up in a few hours and subjecting yourself to more testing of your psychological and emotional stability? Only if I can be fed some serious caffeine directly into my veins first.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Who's DDM should be up tomorrow some time! Keep checking back!

PPS My Scarlett Lounge column is up too! Feel free to check it out too!

Labels: Battle

The Craugh (pronounced craff) is something we see almost on  daily basis. This is the half cry, half laugh. I call them Phony Bolognas. I call their bluff. I give them no sympathy. They hate this. I just continue taunting them.

Labels: Battle, The Destroyer

Everywhere I turn, I find another empty box of Kleenex or roll of toilet paper. Here's the thing- we only have 2 out of the three Wee Ladies potty trained. If we are going through this much toilet paper now, what is it going to be like when they are all using the bathroom non-stop wiping, blotting, smudging, and dabbing? We are going to have to take stock out in Proctor and Gamble, who make Charmin, or one of the other huge tissue companies, like the Kimberly-Clark Corporation.

Labels: Battle

It's amazing how some days my fuse can be shorter than others. This morning my fuse was short and I let it blow. The Wee Ladies were getting under my skin. By the end of the day, I am fine, although tired as my nerves are have reached their maximum capacity.

Labels: Battle, EvieG, Guilt, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

If I were a cashier surrounded by confectionery, I would have a few problems. I would for sure have issues with my willpower and keeping myself away from the Kit Kats, but I would also have issues with the number of tantrums I would be privy to. I have three Wee Ladies and even I can't stand the Automatic Whine that comes with checking out at a store where candy is at look-and-grab levels.

Labels: Battle

After a long day with the Wee Ladies, bed time is like reaching the finish line. You're all out of breath, ready to chug a bottle of water, and fall to the ground (or the couch) as your body screams for rest. And then comes Daylight Savings. The annoying coach you had in school who keeps pushing you to move. They spray spit in your face as they shout, Keep going! You have one mile to go, baby! You're not done yet!

Labels: Battle

I have written a lot about losing things and finding them again. I feel as though this subject is ruling my days. 

Labels: Battle

It is Thursday. My cleaning day. I find that as the week goes on, the more frustrated I become as stuff keeps piling up, even though I quasi-attempt to put everything in their spots and keep up with laundry. I do it to myself.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM

A car trip would not be complete without a juice cup or favourite stuffed animal or soother falling from a child's hands onto the floor at the side of their seat. When this happens, a mom is met with, "My juice! My juice!", or "Doggy! Doggy!", or "Soo soo! Soo Soo!" The question them becomes, Should I pull over to get the toy? The other question is, Should I try and reach my arm back to retrieve the fallen object?

I have had this happen countless times. And to answer the questions, I have done both.

I have had to pull off the road to return a lost Doggy to The Destroyer on a few occasions. Her soother too. This is generally not safe, especially when whizzing down a major 400 highway and then you have to find the nearest exit, glide down the off ramp and pull over onto the gravel shoulder. It is in times of bad weather, like freezing rain, that this become extremely problematic.

But it is a risk we take. We have to weigh our options carefully. Deciding whether or not the retrieval is worth it. There are many variables to consider when problem solving in a situation like this. How much longer will you be on the road? Did the kid(s) nap? Are they about to? Do they need the object to fall asleep? Will the retrieval allow for some quiet time so you can concentrate on the road and traffic without spending the next two hours listening to a screaming child in Dolby Stereo? Where is the next service station? How long can you go before completely losing your mind?

The other set of questions to consider when deciding what your next move will be are: Where did the object fall and land? Is it still in the seat itself, just out of reach? Can I reach back and get it? Without driving off the road?

I have done this too. This also is generally unsafe. So either way we are in a risky situation after a favourite object has dropped. I have secured my one foot on the accelerator; left hand firmly on the steering wheel. I have straightened my legs and right arm and reached back to the car seat, felt around, found the soother, and stuck it back in her mouth, all while watching the road. Anyone who says moms are not the QUEENS of multi-tasking are lying.

Peace. For another five minutes. Until the Wee Lady has decided to turn the dropping-the-security-Doggy into a big game. Repeated dropping. On purpose. I hate this game.

Crap. Now what?

I can't keep reaching back and I can't keep pulling over, otherwise a) we might crash and die, or b) we will be 5 hours behind schedule. The solution? Crabby mom!

TheD: Doggy! Doggy!

Spark Plug: My juice! My juice! Cup! Cup! Waaahhhhh!

EvieG: Mom, I dropped my crayons and I can't colour now!

DDM: Well guess what, sweethearts! Tough! That's right! You will have to wait until we pull over at the next stop! I am trying to drive and you are just going to have to sit there and look out the window! You understand me?

Wee Ladies: Yeeeees.

A risk indeed. We have to wait to see how it will all play out in these situations and then reassess.

Or just keep a cooler of snacks or box of Timbits beside you in the front and toss back a few to shut them up.

Wait. Who am I kidding? I can't even leave the parking lot of Tim Horton's without pulling over.

Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to keep your self intact. It's all about your survival.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS March Who's DDM? is up! Head on over to check it out!

Labels: Battle, DDM, EvieG, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

There is definitely an increase in the sibling blame game happening over here. There is a lack of accepting responsibility for one's difficulties, hardships, and inconveniences. It is funny to watch the pointing and the blaming. It is interesting to see the speed at which the blaming occurs. Even the dog gets blamed for stuff.

Labels: Battle

I don't hoard and I try not to keep stuff around to pile up. And so it is not surprising that I am typically not one for collections. The only collections I ever had were a sticker collection when I was 8 and a chewed gum collection on the side of my dresser in my room.

My in-laws came to visit last weekend and my MIL brought three RBC Olympic coin collector cards for the Wee Ladies. It has become a mission to find 3 of each coin for them, even at the risk of losing coffee money.
Still stuck on the chewed gum collection? It grossed most of my friends out, except my one best pal who had one of her own. And we contributed to each other's too. We would chew a wad of gum until there was no flavour left. We would get it all balled up, remove it from our mouths, and placed it in its designated spot. I think I had around 40 pieces. It smelled really nice and fruity as I made my way to the bathroom. We were so proud of our accomplishment.
My MIL thought it would be a good idea to have the Wee Ladies collect coins in celebration of the 2010 winter Olympics in Vancouver. So she brought the cards along with a few coins to get them started. We got them placed appropriately and glanced at the chart to confirm which ones were in circulation and which ones we have to wait patiently for.

And now we search, collect, and wait for new ones to come from the Royal Canadian Mint. There are 17 to collect in all. EvieG has 6. Spark Plug and The Destroyer both have 3. EvieG has doubled them. My MIL thinks that come the time, they should all trade to make sure they end up with them all.

I don't know. Here's what I foresee-

DDM: (accepting change from my Starbucks grande mild with double cream) Oh look! I just got the curler! Do we have that one yet?

EvieG: No! I want the curler for my collection!

DDM: Well, what about your sisters?

Spark Plug: I want it!

TheD: Ahhhhhhhh!

EvieG: Well, I think that we should fill up my card first. And then we can add to Spark Plug's and then to The Destroyer's. How's that sound?

DDM: Hmmmm, that's not really fair is it? Can we come up with another idea? Maybe you can trade one of your coins with Spark Plug for the curler?

EvieG: Nooooo! I don't want to lose my coins!

She has a point. Why don't we just fill up one card at a time? Do Spark Plug and The Destroyer really know what is going on? At least EvieG can actively participate. I think we might have to do this all stealth like because there is no way we will have 3 of the same coin all the time. And if we make it a very public addition to one of the collector cards, and it is not Spark Plug's, she will have a rangy for sure.

With this collecting in mind, I have now become obsessed with looking at all quarters and loonies. I am searching through coffee change, my wallet, through pockets, Hubby's change, and am even planning my payments with the intent of receiving quarters for change.

What is happening to me? Will I not rest until all 51 coins are in their rightful spots? I will not rest until this task is completed. This is going to drive me to insanity if I am searching for Olympic change for the next year. And you know I will get really annoyed if I keep getting the same figure skating pair over and over and over again. Or if I keep seeing that regular caribou, or special addition in celebration of Canada's veterans. And all I will need is one more. The Olympics will come and go and it will be the damn speed skater that I needed.

EvieG is the star of the week at school. We sent her off yesterday with her favourite books, some pictures of the family to share with her class and then the piece de resistance- the coin collection. And she told her class all about it. I am making her into a obsessive collecting freak.

We will get them all. Oh yes, we will.

I lied. I just remembered my other collection. Bazooka Joe comics.



All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, EvieG, Mission, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

For some reason I can't stand sock shopping. I never know what size to get for the Wee Ladies and I never know what the best kinds are. Tube socks from Wal*Mart, or those socks with the treads on the bottom from Joe Fresh? Or something else? Price is a big issue when it comes to socks. Why? Because they always disappear between the foot and the end of the drying cycle.

EvieG has about three pairs of socks left and none of them fit very well. Her drawer is made up almost entirely of singles. I have no idea where they went. It is time that someone heads out in search for new ones. She is not a fan of socks and would rather run around in her bare feet, even in the dead of winter. She also has issues with her socks. She gets 'bumps'. When she puts them on, she complains that it feels funny; that there are bumps rubbing against her toes (this is the seam along the toes that she despises). She is not Type A at all. I conclude that she must be up to something. It is not completely fair that I blame the AWOL socks on the dryer. It could be EvieG herself responsible for their disappearance! Arguably, they could be stuck in the couch, under furniture, in the back of the closet, or in another drawer.

I feel like Nancy Drew. Or the Dana sisters. Only I don't have a twin to solve the mystery with. What would Carolyn Keene say?

It seems peculiar too that many of Hubby's socks have also gone MIA. Every time I fold another load of laundry, there is a 95% chance that I will end up with random singles. Socks who have lost their partners. So sad. But so annoying. There have been times when I think a) it would be nice to take apart the dryer just to see how big the party is in the back, and b) maybe I should check the garbage to see if the Wee Ladies accidentally threw them away. Did they have holes and Hubby got rid of them? Or were they mismatched and then thrown away because they weren't properly balled up with their partner? Maybe The Destroyer flushed them down the toilet along with that whole roll of toilet paper.

Spark Plug and The Destroyer share socks. Hand-me-downs, obviously. As I mentioned, I hate sock shopping. I have some singles in their collection as well.

As far as my own collection, I have holes in the majority of the heels. But it becomes a matter of being unable to find the time to go sock shopping for myself and that it is highly unlikely I will find socks that are the right shade and softness.

Funnily enough the dryer has opted not to eat any of my socks. I am sensing a conspiracy here.

Where are the missing socks? Where is my Dana twin to solve the mystery?

Instead of blaming the dryer for eating the socks, perhaps I should solve this by giving Tom Cruise a call at his Telluride home and tell him that I have a whole other movie for his Mission Impossible series? He can be my Dana twin. I challenge Tom Cruise to help me find the party guilty of stealing our socks. And then I challenge him to find me new ones. Good quality ones. Ones that only Katie Holmes would buy for Suri.

We all know it is the Mission Impossible series that will keep him employed. Chances of solving this caper side in our favour.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

Doing anything that includes hauling the Wee Ladies around is always a chore. There's buckling, unbuckling, keeping together, keeping hands off merchandise, and it all takes forever. It is Hubby's birthday today and we had a list a mile long to get done in order to surprise him at work. Throw a missing Doggy into the mix and we have automatic panic and chaos.

I got the Wee Ladies winter-dressed. I loaded them into the van. We proceeded to make a stop to get him new ski gloves. I only said, "Stay with Mom," a few hundred times as they ran around in and out of the Burton gear. The only mark we left were some fingerprints on the change room mirror. I threw them back into the van and headed for some caffeine relief. Oh, and some Timbits. I know. I caved.

We continued to the balloon shop where we had a balloon bouquet made for Hubby. Upon our arrival The Destroyer leaned over and pressed the button to open the door on her side of the van. I quickly pressed it again from the other side of the van and pulled her out. We went into get the balloons and during our short, but chaotic stay, EvieG learned not to try and blow up balloons we hadn't ordered. So a balloon covered with 5 year old cooties was purchased using money from her money bank. The Destroyer tried to play with balloon sculptures that were waiting to be picked up. Wouldn't that have been fun if she had popped one of those?

I placed the order and returned them all to the van so I could pay up and easily carry out the balloons without my entourage.

We made one other stop before heading home for a snack.

When we arrived home, I was unloading the Wee Ladies and noticed something potentially disastrous. The Destroyer's stuffed Doggy, which is her version of a security blanket was not in the van. I know she had taken it with her. I know I remember seeing her cuddling it. Where did it go? I searched the van high and low. Under the seats in the Timbit box. No Doggy.

This was bad. So bad because I have no back up in case it should get lost. EvieG has Lovesy, one of those Ty Pluffies that she can't live without. She sticks her finger through the tag and sucks her thumb as she is falling asleep.
I bought 3 extras on eBay to keep just in case we lost them. And she has lost it once, so we are on number 2.

Spark Plug has a chenille blanket she got from a good friend of mine when she was a baby. It comes from Toy R Us and she lives for this thing. She calls it her Kiki (pronounced kee kee). I made a special trip to Toys R Us to buy back up. I have 2 others. She sleeps with 2 and there is one still in the package. So if she ever loses the original, she has another already worked in. I have it all figured out.

But leave it to The Destroyer to have a dog with long legs and arms and a big, blue bow that she can't sleep without. There is no duplicate for this thing. And Doggy was confirmed to be officially lost. Crap.

So I hurried them to finish their snacks and then piled them all into the van. Again. We drove like mad back to the balloon store. As I was pulling into my original parking spot, EvieG and I both spotted Doggy. Along with her hat. EvieG shouted, "Look! There's Doggy in the snow bank! And her hat! It didn't get stolen!"

You can imagine the feeling of relief that came over me.

I was seriously panicked over this. I didn't want The Destroyer to lose her true love. That would be a horrible loss for us all. Not only would she be devastated, but we would have to suffer her wrath. The screaming and stomping and crying would have been hard to deal with and no doubt would have led to more Timbits.

I had already had a Plan B ready to execute if Doggy wasn't in the dirty brown, salt saturated snow. I was going to run to every store within a one block radius and ask store employees if anyone had been kind enough to bring a stuffed dog into their place of business. The whole town would for sure know me by then end of this caper. Thank goodness it didn't get to that.

I gave Doggy back to The Destroyer. She squealed with excitement and gave her a tight hug. I felt like a true hero. And then she looked at me and held Doggy out towards me and said, "Yuck, foot!"

You're kidding me. I just swooped in to save the day like a grand super human with x-ray vision and the thanks I get is a complaint that Doggy's feet are wet and dirty?

I turned around with my knuckles clenched around the steering wheel and stared out in front of me. I put it in reverse and drove away in silence. No appreciation. And there will be worse eventually. I will have sat in front of the computer or on hold trying to get tickets to the coolest concert ever and I will end up with amazing seats, to which they will say, "You couldn't get us any closer?" And then I will say, "Well, if that isn't good enough for you, I will go with Auntie Lisa, Auntie Missy, and Nenny with Twins. Oh, and I will be sure to tell you all about our VIP access after we get home."

Carrying on to Hubby's office with balloons, cupcakes, and a gift, I rallied the Wee Ladies together as we headed into his building. A lovely lady on the street helped me keep them all together. We went in to surprise Hubby. We were on-the-edge-of-our-seats-excited only to be told that he was not there.

What?What?What?

I told him this morning that he needed to be at the office over lunch and that I would bring his suit jacket to him!

I even called his boss two days ago to get permission to bring my entourage to the office!

He forgot and ended up having a meeting out of the office.

We waited for a while and one of his colleagues graciously helped keep the Wee Ladies contained in one area. She gave them paper, markers, and even helped EvieG blow her nose. Amazing.

We waited and waited some more. We left the gifts and went home.

After all that work and drama, it ends like this?

Yes, it ends just like that. In complete and utter disappointment.

It is now time to make and eat cake.

Happy birthday, Hubby! We love you even though you pulled a guy move and only listened to part of what I said! I know 'something came up' and you had a meeting and that's okay! We will forgive you! Over some double chocolate cake.

Don't forget EvieG wants a cupcake!

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a fun weekend! Thanks for reading!

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Drama, EvieG, Hubby, Nenny with Twins, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

As I complete my jobs as CEO of damage control I realize that our house and the Wee Ladies have a serious case of the blimey grimies. Everywhere I turn there are stickies, gloppies, and greasies. Oh, the squalor.

The kitchen table and chairs are disgusting. The chairs stick together and to the floor. The backs of the chairs have little hand prints of honey. The yogurt is dried on and under the table, like a wad of gum. Somehow the grimies get on the legs of the chairs too.

The fridge handle, the drawers, and all doorknobs have been covered by banana hands. The light switches in all rooms, the jacuzzi tub dial included, feel like they have been wiped down in pudding.

Cheerios and dried Corn Flakes make trails through the dining area and kitchen. I find Cheerios under the pillows and stuck in the couch. Today I found a chunk of chocolate chip cookie under the computer desk and bits of Red River cereal behind the toilet.

I blamed the dirty toilet seat on Hubby, but he was having none of it. He is adamant that the seat is not because of him, but rather a recently potty-trained Spark Plug.

The blimey grimies are annoying, yet amazing. It astonishes me how much grime there is in one house. The Wee Ladies take it everywhere. They carry it on themselves too. I have often referred to taking them out in public with breakfast face. I have admittedly wiped them off with my thumb and saliva. Gross, I know, but a good way to get rid of the grimies.

They sometimes walk around all afternoon with yogurt face, or as Nenny with Twins says, banana face. At first the banana is hardly noticeable, but after a while of being exposed to the dust filled air, the banana browns. If you go out in public, you for sure have to resort to the thumb-lick and wipe.

There are times when we haven't had to go out anywhere and I have made the call to put them to bed without a bath, leaving clumped yogurt chunks in their hair. I promise myself to deal with it tomorrow.

So I admit I am partially responsible for the blimey grimy that exists in my house. Sure. But now that I am CEO of damage control, I always get rid of it, even if it takes a week to get to.

Hubby contributes to the grimy in his own way, exempt from the toilet. When he thinks the Wee Ladies need a good moisturizing he puts them in a bath of baby oil. This is his way of being efficient. And for the next 2 days, or until they have another bath free of baby oil, they wander around with grease-head. Slicked hair, like the kid in class who never bathed.

The mother-of-the-year award certainly gets placed around my neck as I take the Wee Ladies out in public with breakfast face, hands covered in dried banana, and slicked hair that no one knows is baby oil. A vision of attentive parenting.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Hubby, Nenny with Twins

Nenny with Twins and I have the same dream. And we continue to work to excel and make it a reality. We try not to give up. We try to persevere, we try to practice. Because we truly believe that practice will make close to perfect. At least practice will get us from an F to a B. We hereby declare and publicly vow to do our best- to properly and successfully fold a fitted sheet. After that declaration, I take it all back. It will never happen.

We cannot for the life of us fold a fitted sheet. We have been working on it for years. Even when I was a kid, I remember my mom and even my Nana showing me how to do it. My mom laid the sheet on the ground, folded the corners in a way that made the sheet a nice square and then proceeded to fold it into a flat, wonderful, straight 4 sided quadrilateral.

And can I do this? Nope.

Exhibit A: The poor excuse for folded fitted sheets

Look at these pathetic bundles of fabric, all wrinkled and well, pathetic.

No matter how hard I try, or how many times I convince myself that 'this will be time I finally get it right', it never happens. And so I continue to hear the words of my mom and Nana, plus the words of my great-grandmother tsk-ing in my ear from the heavens beyond, "Now, you can do better than that. Take your time. Don't get frustrated. Maybe you should get out the iron for once."

Instead, I ignore them and roll the sheet into a ball and throw it into the back of the closet, making sure that I put a flat sheet on top to flatten the fitted sheet. And then I shut the door. Loudly.

I currently sit at an F in the folding of fitted sheets. I truly suck at it. And even though I want to get it right, I just don't think I am capable of achieving a higher grade.

I don't have the time or patience to lay it all out on the floor and fold it. Because we all know what would happen. The Wee Ladies would come along and start rolling and running across it. They would pretend it was their picnic blanket, or the sheet for their Princess Tea Party. They would bring all of their stuffed animals and dolls in and sit them around the perimeter with cups of water in front of them. And then the water would spill and there would be cookie crumbs all over the place. Which means the fitted sheet would have to be washed again. And then I would have to try and fold it all over again.

Not in this lifetime.

The fitted sheets that are behind the door in the linen closet, stay in a huge ball behind the door of the linen closet.

And my elders can shake their heads and fingers at me all they want. At least I can fold the towels and pillow cases. In rectangles or in rolls! Man, I'm good. And I didn't even have to haul out the iron!

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, Nenny with Twins

I learned this weekend that my temperament is exactly the same as when I was 13. We took the Wee Ladies to meet my grade 7 teacher, whom I have kept in touch with over the years. Taking the Wee Ladies anywhere all together can be tricky, but taking them to meet someone important makes me a little nervous.

My grade 7 teacher, Mr. McG, made a big impact on me. He and I had a fantastic rapport, he was supportive, encouraging, and pushed me to do my best. He figured me out right from go and knew how to work with me. Working with 13 year olds is challenging. We did lots of neat stuff in his class and worked through some really fun science projects.

I have not stayed in touch with that many teachers over the years, but Mr. McG is someone who I have enormous respect for and who, even to this day, can keep me grounded. He is a true teacher and now I can say, a great friend.

I wanted the Wee Ladies to make a good first impression because I care about what Mr. McG thinks. Even though he is easy-going and made us feel comfortable right from go, I didn't want the Wee Ladies running through their house smashing things to bits. I kept an eye on them and my ears open to their whereabouts. I tried to keep them under my thumb.

Mr. McG sensed my nervousness and just as he did in grade 7, he said, "Relax. Settle down. They are fine. You are fine. It is all fine. Remember what I used to tell you? You have to relax- we don't want you to get an ulcer." We burst into a fit of laughter.

He told me way back when I was 13 to relax. And here we are 20 years later and he is still telling me the same thing!

I felt myself getting worked up, just as I used to do when I had deadlines approaching. When I want things to run smoothly, and I feel that there is a potential for disaster, I get a bit wound up. But leave it to Mr. McG to calm me down, just as he did at school.

I don't completely freak-out when I get wound up. I just sort of get tense. My shoulders and back tighten, I move quickly. I talk and ask questions. I give the Wee Ladies orders. I just have to remember to breathe and think that everything will be fine. Sometimes things are going to be out of my control.

And they were on Saturday. We took the Wee Ladies into a house sales office to check out the new development going in nearby. While we were talking to the staff, The Destroyer found the big candle surrounded by glass that was perched on a pedestal. She knocked it over and it smashed all over the floor. I was mortified.

I got a little wound up and sent them out to the van with Hubby. I apologized profusely. They said that kids will be kids and that it was alright; that they should have taken items like that away knowing kids would be around. I thought differently. I took a bottle of wine to them later as an apology gift. I wanted them to know that I was sorry my kid made a mess of the office and that I respected their place of business enough to tell them so.

And so I will probably continue to get fired up at times, just as I always have, and the Wee Ladies will continue to be kids. I know I cannot control everything they do and that accidents will happen.

I am going to keep telling myself this. I am going to remember to breathe and try to let it go. Because it will all be fine. We will have little hiccups along the way and that is the way it is. I have to tell myself that these glitches are not worth getting worked up over.

Kids will be kids. And I will not let that be the source of my ulcer.

Thanks to Mr. McG and his lovely wife for inviting us over. We can't wait to pick apples. At least that will be outside and they can't do that much damage.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Responsibility

The Destroyer knows what she wants. She is the third baby and she fights hard to get what and where she needs to go. She is indeed The Destroyer. And she leaves a wake of destruction in her path. If her path or her focus is disturbed, she clearly communicates her disapproval. By grunting. She can easily speak and voice her annoyances, but lately she prefers to grunt.

She will grunt at me, Hubby, and especially at her sisters. She even grunts at the dog. Her grunts coincide with the flexing of her thigh muscles to really get the point across. She sometimes clenches her fists to really stand her ground.

EvieG: Mom! Destroyer took my puzzle piece and she won't give it back!

TheD: GGGrrrrr.

DDM: Destroyer, that is EvieG's. Pass it back to her, please.

TheD: Ggrr.

As she clenches tightly to the puzzle piece, I try to pry it from her.

DDM: Ta-ta!

TheD: GGGGRRRRrrrrr!

Finally I take it. She flips her lid and runs off, even though I try to give her something to replace it with. As she runs by the coffee table, she takes the last half of her Arrowroot. She takes another couple of steps and our Wee Westie Basil stops her in her tracks. He nears the cookie as it is just the right height for him to swipe.

The Destroyer flexes her thigh muscles, stares him down, and hold the cookie for dear life.

TheD: gggggrrrrrrRRRR!

She continues on her way, while Basil runs in the opposite direction with his head hung low.

This is a kid who will make any bully regret the day they were born if they ever for a slight second think about stealing her lunch money. Or food.

She will grunt at them, steam spewing from her ears and nose, as she sends them running home to their mommies with their tails between their legs, begging for warm milk and cookies.

You mess with The Destroyer, you will get the horns.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, The Destroyer

We have entered a new phase with Spark Plug. This phase requires strategic thinking and physical strength. It is a chore and a battle to get Spark Plug dressed anymore.

Lately Spark Plug has been overly obsessed with her nighties. Her pink one with the Disney Princesses in their Paris Hilton poses, her blue one with Dora and Boots smiling awkwardly, and her mint green nightie with Tinkerbell glancing with flirty eyes. It is the flirty eyes that Spark Plug uses to get what she wants, especially from Hubby. She bats her eyelashes and delivers a perfect toothless smile. I should get her an agent.

She wants to be in these nighties everyday, all day. And to try and get her dressed takes as long as it did to get all three Wee Ladies decked out in their winter gear this morning. EveiG was almost late for school.

I get out her clothes and tell her to come and get dressed. She throws a conniption and painfully shouts, "NO!" at the top of her lungs, like I am ripping her toe off or something. Or taking her new FurReal cat Rosie complete with carrying case away from her.

I grab her after chasing her through every room and pin her down on the bed. She is half laughing and half crying. She wants to make it a game, and really for the record it is. She tries her hardest to win the battle of the nightie. I sit on top of her while trying to get her shirt on. She kicks and squirms and wiggles the entire time looking for a way to escape my grip. I place a forearm across her stomach and hold her wrists with my hand as I attempt the pants. Still writhing about she turns onto her tummy and I pull her pants on. Next comes the sweater. I wrap my legs around her to hold her still as I pull one arm through the sleeves at a time. I have even put her in a Nelson, like a cop would do.

Obviously this is gentle and we for the most part giggle our way through this grappling match. I can't get too upset when this is her way of playing. I always come out the winner, even if I have lost the grapple and then try Strategy B, which is to take away Rosie or her princess shoes. I have also been known to pull out Strategy C too. That is where I throw down her clothes and then say good-bye, all while walking myself to the door to get my coat on. Then she freaks out and we get her dressed without incident.

Our day moves on and we go where we need to. We end up accomplishing what we set out to do. I have just run my errands and burned many calories from my grappling match and Spark Plug comes back though the front door and strips down to her underwear. She then marches up to her room and pulls out her Princess nightie and pulls it over her head. She prances back in forth in front of me like a dressage horse and looks at me with her flirty eyes and a solid expression of satisfaction.

She thinks she has won. Maybe she has.

I am still the grappling master.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, Spark Plug

Happy New Year to everyone!

I am wearing a grey turtleneck and pants today. I did this purposely to match my hair. With the moving experience, my hair has gone several various shades of grey. It is funny because the more stressful the situation, the lighter the grey gets. I have three different shades of grey going on right now.

Charcoal Grey: This is a nice dark tone that matches my outfit quite nicely today. I noticed a few hairs this colour as we were in the throes of packing the rest of our house and getting it into the moving truck.

I thought we were pretty organized in getting packed and moved. We had been working on it for a couple of months. I was wrong. We were totally scattered and by the end, we were throwing things in boxes and tying clothes to the side of the truck. I called this experience Tetris Packing. Hubby was in charge of packing the truck, along with his brother. Dear friends also came over to stick some fire in our pants and without their help we would have been completely screwed. I thought Hubby was doing a good job at the Tetris Packing by placing boxes and furniture strategically in order to fill up every available space without losing points and then the game. He started off well and then I noticed about at about the half way mark that he was leaving some holes. Big ones. Game Over.

I was starting to get tense, thinking we would not have enough room to put everything. He reassured me that we would be fine. I had doubts. The glass was half empty this day. Good thing we had two vans to fill.

Hubby and I started to get on each other's nerves. We started nipping and barking and spatting. He told me I took too long to pack the boxes leaving too much space in the truck and therefore the only other option was to put in more furniture. I told him that his Tetris Packing abilities were lacking. Thank goodness our friends were there to diffuse any brewing explosions.

We had to leave a little bit of stuff behind because it wouldn't fit. We will be back to pick it up when Hubby returns to get his truck.


Silver grey (like tinsel): We hit the road and drove through freezing rain the whole way. I had the Wee Ladies and Hubby was driving the 26 footer. My MIL came with us and drove the other van.

The Wee Ladies have handled the change very well and they were all super during the ride up. My silver grey hairs were matching my knuckles as I gripped the steering wheel for dear life as we were pelted with freezing rain. I had to keep using my wiper fluid to clean the windshield off and at one point I ran out. Crap. I was on a four lane road and pulled off to the side to refill my container. I was stressed. It was a long and slippy ride. After a morning of packing the rest of our stuff, this four hour drive was tiring. We made it up in one piece.

We rented a condo for two nights. We went for dinner and called it a night the first night. We were to meet our movers the next morning. They helped Hubby with the big ticket items.

My MIL looked after the Wee Ladies as Hubby and I moved our stuff into our new place. She totally saved me from slitting my wrists. She was there to help with food, laundry, kids, organizing, running around. She was amazing and we are really going to miss her. The kids adore her and they have a very good relationship with her. We will have to make sure that they see her as often as possible.

Cloud Grey (a very light shade when the sun is almost peeking through): My MIL left today. And my blood pressure has been up ever since. Hubby started work yesterday. I am trying to get unpacked and organized while dealing with the Wee Ladies. So far I have applied bandages to fingers dripping in blood from a broken piggy bank, I have counseled EvieG through her first fight with her stuffed animal/best friend, cleaned up the same messes made by The Destroyer a few times, settled fights, and wiped many runny noses. All of this in between getting situated.

EvieG has started school and Sparks. Spark Plug wants to live in her princess nighties and trying to get her dressed to go out is a nightmare. The Destroyer is busy climbing and trying to get into everything. She also tries to help sweep by swinging the broomstick around and nearly decapitating anyone in her proximity.

We will persevere. Moving with kids is hard and if anyone tells you differently, they are lying.

All I want right now is a stiff drink and tweezers to pluck out these grey hairs.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Thanks to Nenny with Twins for blogsitting again. I-LOVE-HER.

PPS I have a list a mile long of blog topics. Please come back to check it all out. Who's DDM for January will be up as soon as I have time to take a pee and sit down to do it.

PPPS There will also be some more reviews heading your way in the DDM's Try Ons section. I will keep you posted on that front.

Thanks for sticking by me through this transition.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Family