The Easter checklist

Easter basket stuffed with goodies for three boys - check.

Easter egg hunt for crazy amounts of chocolate and plastic eggs stuffed with jellybeans - done.

Easter bunny myth destroyed for 9? Yep!

Peeling strung-out-on-sugar children off ceiling? Just looking for the stepladder.

If only

Today has become a day where I dream of going back in time to when 14 was still young, innocent and fully controllable instead of today - a day broken by calls from the VP at his school with threats of suspension and police involvement if certain 4-20 behaviour is discovered again.

Because if I could go back in time I would completely embrace our relationship ... and then start planning for military school.

29 ... again

Yesterday was my birthday.

The end.

Actually no, it was way better than that!

Husband was wonderful, surprising me with a unique piece of jewellery before going out for dinner with no children. A date! To classify as a date my standards are not high, for example if the kids fall asleep in the backseat while driving to London, in my mind that is a date. So to actually go to a restaurant and spend a fortune on martinis and food and be able to carry a conversation without interruption (mostly about the kids but whatever) was pretty fantastic!

And 14 brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers picked out and paid for by himself! This is the FIRST (hopefully not only) time he has done this, in fact he's been a little thoughtless the past 4+ years. At least when he was young he would make me something which I would love and then I would cry.

But not only did 14 have flowers for me, he returned to his roots and made something as well - a symbol of his affection for me on an xBox game where he has created a crazy world for himself. As he leads me though tunnels and up staircases we come to a walkway high up in the sky where he has built himself a throne (he has a bit of an ego, that one) and behind his throne he has I love Mom floating in the air.

9 has spent the past week trying to get me to open the present he picked out (and I paid for) at the drug store (a movie: Time Travellers Wife - I was impressed and relieved, 9 could pretty much have picked out anything sordid and violent but he chose a chick flick!) and has plied me with homemade chocolate bars (quick recipe: melt chocolate chips and then freeze) which he's pretty proud of and thinks we should turn into a home business and sell).

After we invited good friends and neighbours over for cake and champagne and laughter.

A fantastic way to spend a birthday. And note that I did not once mention the f**cking snow.

My heart is full.

This will be brief...

I have 9 people living in my little house right now - 5 children, 4 adults, 4 rooms, no sleep.

The t-shirt that I am wearing this very fragile moment, courtesy of http://www.coyclothes.com/, reflects exactly how I feel.

And to make it even more overwhelming, it's supposed to rain all weekend while we watch the children. And I'm old.

Time to get creative.

First on the agenda: teach them how to mix a drink and serve hors d'oeuvres.

Second on the agenda: drink and eat hors d'oeuvres

Third: I wonder how the parents feel about child labour?

Life lessons

14 started swim lessons last night after a 2-year break. It was like dead man walking taking the trip to the school.

Our conversation went like this:

14: I fucking hate swim lessons.

Me: Language.

14: Fine, I just do. I can't believe you're making me do this. I have fucking swim lessons. When I have children, I will never make them take swim lessons.

Me: It's mandated by law, children have to learn to swim.

14: Whatever, I'll let them drop out as soon as they want to. I fucking hate swim lessons.

Me: Language. (In my head I thought oh no, you'll make them suffer just like I'm making you. It's called retribution ... and good sense!)

A lightbulb moment

I had a revelation this morning:

Living through the teen years is a lot like going through pregnancy.

After 9 months of pregnancy a woman will pretty much do anything, go through any amount of pain, to get that baby out of her body. She is psychologically ready.

After 5 years of living with an emotionally unstable, hormonally unbalanced, smelly teen who eats the same amount as a small village in Africa and creates paths of mass destruction wherever he goes, you will pretty much do what you have to to get him out of the house.

I'm only in year two but I have a hunch this is where we are headed.

Problem solving at its best

9: Mom, I came up with a solution to that hair cutting problem! (calling out from the living room)

Me: What hair cutting problem? What solution?

9: Well you know how I don't want to go get my hair cut? I did it myself and it looks good! (enters the kitchen brandishing the kitchen scissors)

Me: Noooooooo!!!!!

9: No wait Mom, I did a good job! And here's the ball of hair I cut off.

Bangs gone, appointment with professional booked.

Ovaries ... still got 'em

I wasn't going to write about this because it really has nothing to do with my children right now but then I realized a connection which I will enlighten you with later.

I was scheduled for surgery today to have my ovaries removed, specifically at 1:30 I would be saying good bye to those two little cyst-covered nuggets. The stress has been wearing me down, in part the surgery but also the idea of being launched into menopause and all of the implications that comes with it.

I'm pretty confident it has nothing to do with wanting more children because I know deep down in my heart that if I had another child, it would be a boy, and then I would lose my mind and the gods are cruel enough to let that happen to me.

So I get to the hospital for 11:30 as required, fill out forms, get my id bracelet, change into hospital gown, sit in a room with crazy people for nearly 2 hours, answer questions (one question I asked was is my surgery on schedule? answer: YES), have temperature, blood pressure and heart rate taken, and then 15 minutes before my scheduled time, get taken aside by two doctors to tell me they have bad news, my surgery has in fact been cancelled.

I was barely holding my shit together as it was being hungry, thirsty, having had no coffee and facing the loss of my ovaries, and I was pleasant to the two doctors as they told me the news, but then I lost it.

But then I ate, and now I am drinking.

So to tie this little story to 14, one of his favourite threats against 9 is that he is going to kick him in the ovaries.

Mortal coil

So in an effort to be a reasonable mother (I don't like to set the bar too high, just in case) I took 9 out biking yesterday (before the freaking snow started - ack don't get me started!) and he fell.

That should be the end of the story but it's not because... he nearly DIED. According to 9.

He fell while turning in the schoolyard, unfortunately in front of a classmate, and suffered the smallest of cuts on one hand and 2 little cuts on one knee. He limped home coming up with various scenarios on how the outcome of the fall could have been much worse, as in "he could have died" worse, i.e., arm torn off, head smashed, leg - broken!

He rushed into the house to tell all the sympathetic (heavy sarcasm being used here) guys who were watching a stupid scary movie about his near death experience and they IGNORED him. He was devastated!

Where is his life value if no one reacts to his near death! Not good.

I encouraged 9 not to tell his friends that he nearly died after falling off his bike but no luck. First thing out of his mouth.

And he doesn't want to take drama. But he could probably write for Charlie Sheen!