Make it a double...

I really should be more sympathetic and much more patient ... after all, they can't help that they have a serious disability!

How would I feel trying to function in life profoundly deaf and with tunnel-like focus? It would be brutal of course.

And then throw in the brain damage! I need to manage my expectations, treat them either like small children or an elderly person suffering from dementia. At least they're not peeing in their underwear!

It is remarkable to me how good they are on the xbox yet can't put a dish in the dishwasher, or pick up their mess off the floor ... but I suppose that's part of their disability, like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman.


Fuckers.

Snot-nosed little freak - you have stepped too far

9 is being bullied - not physically but harassed and insulted constantly by this other 9 year old little snot who reminds me of Harper with his blonde hair and cold dead blue eyes. Yesterday evil 9 escalated his reign of terror and 9 reacted by stabbing him with a pencil to the arm (after repeatedly telling him to leave him alone - according to counsellor).

This is not good because 1) the pencil move no doubt wasn't hard enough to make evil 9 learn a lesson and leave my 9 alone and 2) because 9 reacted physically he could be kicked out of the after school program which he attends twice a week.

Nothing brings out the ferociousness in a mother than when her children are being harassed. Now where to begin because this needs to stop.

Call to principal, call to teacher, smear campaign ...

Hmmm, time to get creative.

Suggestions anyone?

No return

I just told 9 that the gun he made with his new iPhone app was pretty.

This is it, no going back ... ever.

Gym: the wrestling segment

Who knew schools still did this but considering that all 14 wants to do is try to throw his brother, his father and his friends around with moves he's picked up from UFC - it does kind of make sense. 

By class 2, Thursday, he's injured himself. 

Friday, chiropractor. A 10:15 appointment met with bitterness because of the ungodly hour he now needs to get up.

A quick digression: Toronto has been hit with January-like temperatures and lots of snow. When I left the house for work it was -10*C, when I called 14 with his appointment and to tell him to GET OUT OF BED, HAVE A SHOWER AND MEET ME AT MY OFFICE IN ONE HOUR in a motherly tone filled with love and concern, the temperature warmed up to -9*C.

14 complains but gets up and has the fastest shower ever, dresses and races outside to take the transit to my office. 

Then my phone rings.

14: Mom, I'm locked out and I don't have a coat...and it's cold.

Me: Go next door and get a key from the neighbour and get your winter coat.

14: No it's okay, I'll be fine - I'm dressed in layers. 

Me: What are you wearing? It's freezing outside!

14: A t-shirt and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

Me: That does not constitute layers.

But that's how the teen brain works: layers equals 2+ articles of clothing = warmth. Comparable to a winter coat. And have I forgotten he's Canadian?

14 runs to the streetcar stop to generate heat and thankfully there's a streetcar. He calls me to let me know when he's off the subway and I run out to get him - in my parka and mittens. Everyone is looking at him like he's insane and I feel like saying, he's 14 so that everyone understands and feels my pain.

Tomorrow: the chiropractor performs miracles on Quasimodo while I pine for coffee.

The gods are messing with us

I can only believe that this is happening because the gods are mourning the greatness that was Dame Elizabeth Taylor.

Because otherwise this makes no sense and is just plain cruel.

Not surviving the teenage years...

You know what a good birth control would be? Spending time in a house with teenage boys. My experience with teen girls is nearly 0, outside of remembering myself at that age and frankly I was perfect, but boys? It is all I can do right now to not freak at my lovely first boy who just said "screw you" because I dared to ask why he was being rude to his younger brother.

But in the next breath asks me to front him some money to help fund his paintball passion.

Ummmm.  NO!

Colicky newborns and terrible twos have NOTHING on the evil that resides within those long lanky bodies.

Music to my ears

If you listen closely, you can hear the collective sigh of over one million mothers who's children returned to school today. And the sound of one million cocktails being poured in celebration.

Counting the hours

It's almost over - March break 2011 is soon to be a thing of the past. Stuff of nightmares. 

We took the kids to the States for 3 days to relax, swim, shop and it was, well,  HORRIBLE. 

At one point we were all in the pool and visions of moving out and renting an apartment danced through my head.

They fight all the time. The first words out of their mouths upon waking are usually obscene. And now 14's favourite word is "tit" or "tits", used as a descriptive, an example would be "cold as tits" or "tired as tits."

A dialogue in progress:

14: Man, I'm tired as tits.

Me: What? Tits don't get tired. People get tired, but tits? They just hang there. Not tired.

14: Mom, you're ruining my word.

Later in the car

14: He must be rich as tits.

Me: Tits aren't rich. The person who has the tits might be rich, but tits aren't rich.

14: MOM, STOP RUINING MY WORD.

Tell me, where did I go wrong?

March break: Day 3

The strangeness of motherhood, takes me along paths I never expect.

I taught my 14 year old son to shave what he swears is a mustache today. Most people would have thought husband would have swept in and embraced this milestone but surprisingly he didn't really care have a problem with passing it off, even if I am a woman without a facial hair problem.

So I took everything I've ever gleamed from tv commercials, made up a few extra steps, and put all that knowledge to use. And at the end, 14's upper lip was hairless and I was very proud of myself.

In an effort to not kill spend quality time with 9, we made stained glass Easter eggs. Yes he was bitter... but very proud of the end result. After craft time we biked for an hour where he mastered turns and stopped regularly to shake out his hands, the pressure of holding onto the handlebars was a bit much. 9 is a bitter drama queen, he's a bit like Terrence Stamp's character in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

God help me.

Sometimes it's the little things that bring the most happiness

I took 9 to the Sufferin' Mall for a sweet new bike but that's not what excites me, this does:

A boot mat, specifically a beautiful black $4.50 boot mat from Walmart!

The Hunter wedge heel boots kind of make me happy too.

March break: Day 2

I can honestly say that so far, and it is only the second day so there is hope that things will change, I am not enjoing March Break.

14's goal: to stay in his boxers or pajama pants the entire week. So far, successful.

9's goal: to drive me insane and not leave the house. Can't even be bribed, which I tried to do with a Starbucks hot chocolate complete with whip cream and chocolate sauce and a NEW BIKE. A new freaking bike and he still feels that what I am suggesting is nothing shy of torture. And so far he has been very successful in the driving me insane part of his agenda.

Am I the only mother who's children do not like to leave the house ever? What is wrong with them? It's sunshine and blue skies out! I blame their father.

And meanwhile I pace. And do things that I'm sure I will regret like stripping the pillow covers off all the sofa cushions and cram them into the washing machine and hope for the best.

March break: Day 1

Trying to be very quiet and make coffee without children hearing me - I'm hoping for one peaceful cup before madness and demands start. Thankfully laptop has a quiet keyboard.

I'm getting nervous, I can hear talking and footsteps. Crap - why is the coffee machine beep so loud and seemingly endless?!

Agenda today: Hockey hall of fame except that I forgot we have guitar lessons. Must do some juggling. 

Yesterday, took two 14s to Sgt. Splatter - while trying to sign them in, stood in a dark room charged with energy and surrounded by crazed men and boys holding guns, wearing face masks and covered in paint splatter ... so out of my element.

You just couldn't give me girls, could you husband.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Last night we were at 14's high school for an award ceremony for all 500 kids who made the honour roll, my 14 year old included. Even though the school lowered the bar from 80% to 75% as the average needed to be obtained, we were really proud of him because he did make the 80% average. Though in the car he said "our school's not very smart" as the reason behind the drop.

I should mention for the first time he refused to sit with us and instead sat on the other side of the gym with his friends and texted me. I so wanted to stand up and yell "son, SON, it's me MAAAA'AAAM!!! Over here!! Son! SON!!!!" while he accepted his award, but I held my tongue. Because I socialize occasionally in the same circle as one of the vice principals.

Anyway, husband and I were very proud... or so I thought.

The kids played their usual game of "let's be total asses in the back seat of the car with the end result being Mom & Dad pushed over the edge of sanity." A great game, one all families should play. Especially in poor weather conditions.

Except not only were we pushed to the edge, the kids lost all gaming and tv privileges for the night and husband told 14 that he didn't work hard enough and should have had better marks and dammit RESPECT ALL OF US A LITTLE MORE THAN YOU DO.

9 is now crying because he was really looking forward to back-to-back episodes of Futurama and if you can't watch tv and game, well is there any point to living?

Sure there is ... it's called SCRABBLE!

We tried one game, 9 won, 14 was bitter ... board game put away.

First rule of the day

Family conversation on a Saturday morning:

Never ask me for anything until at least 2 cups in and only then if you made it for me.

So unless you're feeling lucky, do not ask if I'm depressed, angry or pms-ing until the pot is empty. Why has it taken you 20 years to understand that this is considered playing with fire?

And no eye-rolling thank you.

My nerves...

This represents my nerves, ready to snap, especially after a weekend trapped in the house with my family.

But funny story:

I was standing on a chair, putting the roasting pan on top of the cupboard over the fridge and asked my husband to pass me the rack I forgot but he couldn't because he was stretching. So I hopped off the stool, grabbed it and jumped back up.  After he finished stretching he climbed on the stool for something and asked me to pass him a dishcloth because it was FILTHY on top of the fridge, I said I couldn't because I was washing the dishes (may have also mumbled something obscene under my breath), so he went to hop down but his one leg got STUCK on the stool and he was kind of trapped awkwardly balancing on the other leg. Because I was doing dishes, I wouldn't couldn't help him so instead laughed until tears poured down my face.

I do believe there is a moral to that story.

Next... botox

How's a girl supposed to keep lying about her age if she has teenage boys, taller than her, calling out MOM in very public places?

It truly is a win-win for me

Do I really need to remind you again what happened the day you were born?

Okay, here goes:

I got up around 7am to get ready for work, while en route to the washroom, my water broke and the mucus plus was lost. Then the searing pain of contractions began shortly after...

Now shall I finish the story or do you want to go clean out the cat litter?

I thought so.

Of course I'm being totally unreasonable

Because the sheer size of the dust balls in your room scares me, for all I know a cat could be trapped in one, and frankly I don't enjoy mouth breathing because the teen stench will either make me throw up or pass out.

Clean your room.

And no I will not pay you.

Family meeting

Last night we had a family meeting with the boys to talk about some of the pressing issues in our home and also to remind them of the rules: no porn surfing on computers, no drugs, stop the constant wrestling and swearing and breaking of my things before I lose my mind AGAIN... usual stuff. All comments were met with derision and eye rolling and 14 (I've decided to call my sons 14 and 9, their ages) would comment "not going to happen" after each. 

Shoot, I forgot to include one biggie - if poo falls on the floor, for whatever reason, instead of making it into the toilet, PICK IT UP!  Why does a girl even have to mention that? 

Anyway, back to the meeting. We ended with typing up the most critical issues and are treating it as a contract and signing in blood.

I figure I might get 24 hours of peace including sleep time and kids being in school but then I've always been a crazy optimist.

Good news! I have a couple of bathroom tips for all mothers who have only boys: 1) keep containers of disinfecting wipes by each toilet to protect yourself before using, and 2) always pour yourself a drink when feeling the need to go rid the bathroom floor of poo - the drink makes it a far more civilized experience.

Feeling a bit rusty

It's been a long time since I abandoned my blog wrote a post but I needed time to figure out a few things. Mainly, where the hell is my sanity? I was positive it was somewhere in the house but the kids are tricky, they move things without telling me.

For those who don't know me, I have an attitude-fueled 14 year old son and a 9 year old son who thinks he's 14 and to be honest, is incredibly cranky. The 14 year old has decided he hates the 9 year old and now spends his time, outside of excessive xbox playing, harassing the 9 year old for sport. Though 9 enjoys the attention, he spends his time yelling and expanding the not so pleasant side of his vocabulary.

I also have a husband and I can promise much will be written about that once I ensure he does not find this blog.

To cope, I like to spend my time investigating reasonably priced wines from all over the world while sobbing, and promise to occasionally post the fabulous finds.

Now off to find my elusive sanity and I look forward to my new relationship with blogworld!