Is It Over Yet?

....but give me a blowtorch and we'll talk.

Today's blog will be decidedly lacking in butterflies, unicorns and rainbows.

Sometimes life is ugly, days are long, and the only relief in sight is sweet merciful death. 

It's been a long fucking day.  If time has taught me anything, it's that this fucking day should have fucking ended 2 fucking weeks ago.

We all stayed up to watch Game 7 last night (GO CANUCKS WOOOOOOT)...not that I am normally in bed at 10pm on Tuesday nights. 

Hubby and I also cooked and enjoyed an amazing Indian feast complete with pappadums, basil marinated onions, coriander chutney, tamarind-date chutney, prawn korma on rice, and an entire bottle of Zinfandel.  Each.  Nothing too strange about that given the occasion.  During overtime, I gnawed my way through an entire frozen Mr. Nutty Bunny.  Meh, given the season, still nothing wacko there.

The problem is that I am getting old and my body is starting to hate me in ways I never dreamed possible.  And I am still naive enough to think I can outsmart my body.  I topped off the evening's gastronomic expedition with a glass of milk, a couple Tylenol and some Tums, and stumbled off to bed willing positive thoughts and energy through my brain and body. 

Alarm goes off 6:45am.  Reset.  7:00am.  Reset.  7:20am. 

 * THANK YOU BRAIN AND BODY *



I care for 4 toddlers in my home, 9 hours a day, 5 days a week. 

And yet I love my job. 

After working in the "real world" and trying to balance work, a husband, 2 pre-teen daughters, housework, friends, and my own insignificant needs, I learned that I hate working in the real world. 

I love my home.  I love being in my home.  I love being the one who picks our girls up after school, or who rushes to school to pick them up when they are hurt or really sick.  I love that *I* am caring for them. 

I love opening my home to my daycare kids.  I love watching them take their first wobbly steps, learn new words, the whole shebang.

That being said, there are those unusually challenging days where I'm questioning my career choice, or at least my ability to make it through the day. 

Today was one of 'em:

Toddlers would make awesome politicians, because they tell you what they know you want to hear (or at least smile sweetly and nod enthusiastically) and then proceed to do whatever the hell they want after. 

Pre-teen girls are like volcanoes.  Calm on the outside, yet on the verge of complete (emotional) eruption at any moment.

Dogs make great family pets.  Some are indifferent to doorbells, mailmen, garbage trucks, and ducks who are looking to nest on your front lawn.  Some never know when to shut the hell up.  

Phones never ring when you want them to, and never stop when you don't.

Non-torrential rain only occurs during snack/lunch/naptime.

The people who design the school drop off/pick up lanes have

(a) never gone to school,

(b) never learned to drive,

(c) never had children,

(d) all of the above.

It's days like this when hubby's also had a day like this and would love to be picked up from work rather than endure a crowded smelly ride home on the Loser Cruiser (aka Bus).

I pick up our oldest from her playdate (GAH I hate that term), and drive downtown through the rain to pickup Lawr.  I realize I can't wait to see my hubby, my rock, my soulmate.  One look at me and he says the magical words every hungover, frustrated, self employed, emotionally exhausted wife and mom wants to hear:

"Let's go out for dinner tonight."

Sorry, sweet merciful death...you lose again ;P

The Greatest Epiphanies Happen When It's Pouring Fucking Rain

I love where we live.

I love the feel of our house; it just feels comfy and loving. I felt that the first time we ever toured it, which is why we bought it.  I love my big honking backyard.  I love how the little grape vines we lovingly and optimistically planted almost 13yrs ago now grow right over our patio and shade us from the hot summer sun.  I love that our girls can actually reach a full out sprint in the expanse of our yard while chasing Tylee The Wonder Dog. 

Yet sometimes I feel so crowded in our house. I see friends' houses and I think, wow *I* want a bigger house like they have! I do licensed daycare in our house.  I hate having to shuffle toys and furniture and highchairs around every morning to set up for daycare, and having to move everything out of the way every night so we can relax and watch TV in our livingroom. I hate that Zoe's room is so small that the only time she ever spends time in it is when friends' kids are over or when she's sleeping. She's another grade away from middle school and having homework every night.  How will we ever fit a study desk in her 7x10 foot room?

We have one bathroom...oy vey I don't wanna even think about 2 young ladies and me and Lawr getting ready in the morning. I guess I want more for my kids (??) but they don't know any different, they're happy..so why am I wanting to sell?

I think I'm going thru some sort of mid life thing. It hit me the other day...On May 17th I'm turning 42. 

42.

FORTY TWO. 

I started thinking of things like how I never went to college or university and how I never took a summer off to tour Europe, and I haven't been to Hawaii, I've never been anywhere tropical.  I'm starting to look at life from the point of how long do I have left instead of how long have I been here. What will I be remembered for? In 8 years, I'll be turning 50. Nic will be turning 20 and Zoe will be turning 18, graduating. Am I still going to do daycare in a 3 bedroom rancher? Do I want to?
  
Maybe I'm just caught up in stupid consumerism gotta buy bigger, gotta have better...

We had an amazing Easter dinner with Maureen and Fiona and Nolan last night.  We met almost 9yrs ago when I first opened my daycare.  Fiona and Nolan grew up in our little house, toilet trained here, shared laughs and grew to be best friends with our girlies.  They're actually more like siblings than best friends.  Maureen and Fiona and Nolan are family.

Nolan has been telling us everytime he see us that he's sad we're selling our house because it's his first daycare house, there's a lot of memories here. Out of the corner of my eye I've seen Nic and Zoe kinda nodding.  OMG what am I doing to them?

I got frustrated with Lawr last night after dinner and went out in the carport to clear my head while he and Maureen drove the PC and dialled up the youtube vids for awhile and talked.  I was over my harrumph and came back inside quietly because I could hear they were deep in some discussion.  I stood in the kitchen, not wanting to barge into their conversation.  It broke my heart to hear him say he's so upset about selling our house, he loves our house, he's too old to be re-mortgaging and uprooting,  this is our grow old together house.  At first I was shocked and hurt and angry that he was telling our best friend these things instead of me. 

Then it hit me.  Holy crap he really loves me and our little love nest.   

Ugh. It's pouring rain out. I'm hungover from last night's rich food and plentiful wine.  I'm emotionally worn out. I feel like some horribly shrewish bossy overbearing woman that's trying to take away everyone's comfort and stability. 

I got the kitchen all cleaned up this morning and had it all to myself to just think me thinks while everyone snoozed and slowly came to life.  I spotted a bird I've never seen before in my backyard on the garden fence and watched the raindrops wind their way down the grape vines. 

And then I had my epiphany.

It's time to call our realtor.  I love my crowded little house too much to ever sell it.