Saturday, January 28, 2006

Let the Games Begin

It seemed like a simple plan- family games night. No need to rush out and complicate things to spend a little quality time together. Just some popcorn, a board game, and a relative or two. Our ever social girls started in on me immediately- "Can I invite a friend? me too, me too! If she can , so can I, right mom?" Sure- bring 'em in- its Games Night, and the more the merrier!

Auntie and Uncle arrive, late as usual but laden down with snacks, some movies , and a board game. We laugh at the irony of them coming to our house to celebrate the week's end, their own children grown tall and independent. The boys and I finish up some lego soldier creations while the snack smorg gets set up on the counter, beside the hamster in his wheel. Round and round he whirls, determined that this time he'll make some real progress.

Scattergories seems a good place to start- even educational! We lay out the game cards amongst the grapes and chips and bags of peanuts. Two pre-adolescent girls in tickle trunk evening gowns come screaming through the room, their faces gaudily made-over. We pause to snap some pictures. The phone rings again- isn't everyone we know here already? Its the baby-sitter, he wants to sell us grapefruits for a fundraiser. Okay , back to the game. Micah , laughing outrageously, manages to incorporate the words "poop" or "stooopid" in every entry on his list. His penmanship is good though, I won't mention that neither word begins with the letter "M". Here come the girls again, another strut down the runway.

"WHAT WAS YOUR WORD?" yells a normally soft-spoken auntie, wanting to make herself heard over the commotion.

"THE CAT!" screams Brian. ( Now "cat" doesn't start with "m" either. )
"Put that cat in the basement if you want your hamster to see the light of day!"

Maybe next time we WILL go out.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Something borrowed, something true

One wonders whether any thoughts are actually original? Perusing some blogs this morning, I came across these words:

"new ideas do not come to me in a vacuum... my heart needs relating, not solitude. People's ideas inspire me. They launch me into a new place, usher me into a new space. They bump my whole perspective over a couple of degrees and then invite me to see things from a new angle. I only hope that occasionally my ideas take someone else somewhere else too- call it a payment of a cosmic debt."

The Bible says:
"He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed". (proverbs 11: 25) and,
"Let Love be your greatest aim".

Then scribbled in one of my numerous journals:
"You can give without loving, but you can not love without giving. Love means giving up- yielding my preferences, comfort, goals, security, money, energy, or time for the benefit of someone else".

These words are also borrowed, the reference impossible to record as I likely took them from another's writing and hoped to allow them to take me "somewhere else" in my journey. We borrow Christ's words, we wrestle with them, debate over them, desire to make his thoughts our thoughts. We borrow the reflections of people in our lives, take their wisdoms, insights, viewpoints and absorb and discard them at will. And rightly so, for we were created for relationship.

My own, unborrowed prayer remains the same: for Truth. For revelation of the true meaning of the scriptures. Not what is popular, or traditional, but the TRUTH about freedom in Christ. To live in the place where perfect love casts out fear.

Something borrowed, Something true.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

What was the topic, again?

"Okay, 5 minute warning until nap time."
"why, Joyce?"
"Because its nap time."
"But, Why, Joyce?"
"Because that time has come."
"Because time waits for no man, it marches on."
"It does? For kids? For me, and Anthony, and Sam?
Can we watch it Joyce?"


What if we read fewer books on loving our neighbor and just DID? What if we didn't join a "small group", didn't go to the seminar, didn't have a board meeting? What if we worried less about enabling, co-dependency , or being taken advantage of? What if we Really listened to that still, small voice when it prompts us to love on people all around us?

I recently heard a true story, told to me by a dear friend. I almost hate to recant it, for fear that I will fail to communicate what is in my heart with respect to it.

On the way to MEC one passes a number of beggers on the sidewalk. It can be quick and painless if you make no eye contact and walk by briskly as if to say ; "there's tonnes of important stuff that I have to do today and I honestly never noticed you over there, asking for money....."

What if we remember that our "important stuff" is to show, to be, and to give love? That's what my friend did. As they ate lunch in the nearby food court, she asked him about himself. Not because she bought him lunch, and so he deserved to make her feel like a real Christian by telling her what a shitty life he had lived and how she was his "savior" because she was nice to him instead of blowing him off like we all usually do. No, she's just a regular, genuinely great person who got interested in the guy on the corner who looked like he might be a little hungry.

"My mom left during the night when I was 13. She left a letter on the table addressed to my father, but me being a stupid kid, I opened the envelope and read it. She was tired of raising kids, she said. Its time to put "me" back in the equasion. Good-bye, I won't be back.

I put the letter back in the envelope.

You know, I've never told that to anyone ever before."

Monday, January 23, 2006


Wouldn't it be nice in life if we could use the "backspace" key whenever we actually do or say something really stupid?

Better yet, what if we could backspace when other people say careless words. I mean the kind of comment that gets tossed your direction in the grocery store over the granny smith apples, right after "Hey how are ya? Good to see you again!".

Then again, because it was obviously not intended to cause pain, these little spears and arrows should be taken advantage of- pointing the way to areas in our lives where we could use a little healing, a chance to root out some lies and get a truth injection.

The only real way OUT is THROUGH.


Thursday, January 19, 2006


Micah, age 7:


I'm not comfortable with this ineuendo... I'm his MOTHER!

Diagnosis, please?

I really am grateful for the oppurtunity to work from home, but there are certain aspects of it which I tire of. I wonder if there is some sort of diagnosis for people who begin to scream uncontrollably from being subjected to the monotony of everyday chores. Ok, lately they feel like every-other-minute chores.

* clearing the bathroom floor of millions of bits of shredded toilet paper after the cat clearly won the victory with its make belief mouse.

*returning all 89 pieces of the sponge bob ants in pants game into the box.

*laundry (anybody who gets by without hiring a domestic knows what I mean.)

* removing toothpaste deposits.

There are many, many more, but if I bore you with any more, you too will begin to scream uncontrollably.........

Tuesday, January 17, 2006


My friend and I have a little circuit that we run. No, I do not speak of the type which ends with firmer thighs , or buns of steel, and the exercise of which I speak requires more than 45 minutes to see real results. More than this, it requires commitment, determination, planning and strategy.

The quest? To liberate an old piece of enamel wear, a quilt, old church bench, or tea pot from an out of the way thrift shop. We coordinate schedules, unearth extra car seats from dark corners in the garage, pack a snack and some tea , then we're off to the races. There is usually a child napping in the back seat before we reach our destination, but the thought of a "new" 25 cent toy is enough to chase the sleepy-grumpies away. As for us adults, the anticipation of what may be found beneath old undies and tacky furniture turns us into children ourselves.

The thrift shop is a culture all its own. Racks of discarded clothing, rows of mismatched glasses, a bucket of wallets, and near the back an odd assortment of furniture and plumbing supplies. While we sift through the rows of books for an old bit of illustration, or the sort of photo book that holds black pages and silver corners, the kids explore .

On one such a venture the kids found a turqoise colored toilet near the back and had great fun opening and closing its lid. Grateful to know where they were, I perused the rows of shirts where my trained fingers hunted for textures and well weathered, preshrunk goodies for my boy. My friend has found some lovely hand-embroidered pieces to encorporate into a quilt project. Bang! Bang! ha ha ha! I hear the boys delight in their unusual plaything.

I glance back to laugh with them and in that one horrifying instant, realize that in their innocence, they could have no concept of the intricacies of indoor plumbing or that a toilet standing all alone on a thrift shop floor has no capacity to deal with a relieved bladder. I am thrilled of course, that they are learning to be independent and I can't chide them for finally using the potty all by themselves. Still, I must behave like an adult, I cannot clutch my treasures to my chest and run screaming from the store.

God bless those store clerk volunteers for a hearty sense of humour, directions to a large roll of paper towel, and a trusty friend to help me make the thing right.

As the saying goes, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry". We had started out well prepared, but on that day we came away with more than just a few old treasures: the unexpected, gracious kindness of the store clerks, the joy of laughter, and the undeniable durability of friendship. But that's one of the things that I love about the hunt. You just never know what you might find.....

Monday, January 16, 2006

Hamster Tails

The first hamster to join our family was a birthday gift to Jane. The cute little fella promptly bit her on the finger, snarled at the birthday guests, then shortly thereafter pooped itself to death. ( a stress-induced hamster condition, more commonly known as "wet tail": sounds kinder than "shat-himself-to-death" syndrome. Four more hamsters followed in short order, half of whom succumbed to the dreaded illness, one escaped via a lego hamster play structure, and one which remains at large, missing in action and presumed dead. All this in a matter of three weeks.

Being a sensible woman who knows when she's been beaten, I packaged up those cleverly marketed solitary confinement hamster jails and shoved them into the garage to sell next summer to some unsuspecting well-meaning mother.

Ahhh, how soon one forgets the lessons in life. Arianna has been working hard on her times tables, and her supportive and enthusiastic auntie offered her a challenge: Master that 3 times today, and I'll bring you a treat from the city. Well, there's no greater motivater than appealing to the great consumer monster inside my first born. After hours of deliberation, she stumbled upon a lightbult moment- I COULD GET A HAMSTER!

Since I have given birth four times, there has been considerable blood loss and brain cell shrinkage so I admit that this seemed to me to be a brilliant plan, since we had all the equipment at hand.

Arianna read up on hamsters: how to avoid the before mentioned syndrome, what to feed, what not the feed, how to minimize stress in little Archie's life, and maximize his potential for a long and vibrant life span. It was decided that Archie would be safe up on the bookshelf in her bedroom, with the door shut, to keep out Mindy and Flo (the cats) who would probably perceive Archie as a thoughtfully prepared hot lunch. Arianna was to be the primary care-giver, it being clear that most of the other Hildebrands had homicidal tendencies. It seemed fool proof.

We even had a support group, of sorts. The gift giver of the first unfortunate hamster calls daily to ask whether I have yet killed the hamster. I'm sure that she asks with the kindest of intentions, desiring quality of life for rodents everywhere. Early this afternoon I received my first accountability phone call of the day. Heart racing, I flew up the stairs, realizing that Arianna had been responsible enough to close her bedroom door in the morning but that I had re-opened it, thinking that she was hiding the deplorable mess in there from me, and that I had better at least let air circulate in the squalor. (see above, re limited neurological function).

A cat lay sleepily on the bed. The hamster cage lay bottom up beside the book shelf, shavings and carrot snacks in a trail on the carpet, hamster wheel dangling precariously. The evidence suggested a scuffle, a type of cat and mouse game where Mindy's paws will have swung threateningly through the bars of the cage. A small furry form lay motionless in the wreckage.

But wait- is that the rise and fall of a tiny chest that I see? I haven't the courage to put that cage right, upset him all over again and probably set off the series of events which will inevitably end with a poopy-bummed, stressed-out, heaven-bound hamsty.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Spinach Salad

I should be making a spinach salad right now. That sounds about as exciting as yesterday when my big friday night plans were to finish defrosting the coffin.... er, deep freeze that came with our house , could easily hide 3 to 5 bodies, and probably uses enough hydro in a month to heat a small Inuit community. I just keep wandering over to the computer, looking for something- a comment, or an e-mail, or WHAT?! It's not like I need affirmation. I am married to a man who thinks I'm the cat's meow. I have four kids who are not yet smart enough to notice that I'm actually human. I even have two cats. (see above, about the husband, since he despises felines). I have the best friends in the entire world. Friends who make me laugh, make me cry, make me sew their daughters doll clothes.

And did I mention that I have a new TV? Yeah, that's why I'm down here at the computer in peace, with a half glass of wine, babbling away. 'Cuz the faint sound of Blue's CLues is now a lovely BACKGROUND noise instead of an annoying, in-my-face irritant right behind me.

I'm not making the salad because I'd rather be writing, rather not be messing up the kitchen (again), rather be in conversation with all my invisible friends.

It's my blog and I can whine if I want to.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Thanks to my blogger friend for letting me play her online game. If I were meant to be born in this technological century I would do that little tricky thing where I put Christy's blog address here, in blue so that you could visit it, but I still don't know how to operate our stereo.....

1. Four names you go by:
1) Joycie
2) darlin' (with a newfie slang, thanks, cheri)
3) Kehler (Brian)
4) baby (my dad, although I hated it until my thirties, then decided to embrace it, now he never says it any more.....)

2. Four of your everyday essentials:
1) strong coffee
2) conversation
3) seeing beauty in my home
4) enough rest

3. Four things you are wearing right now:
1) bra (the kind that comes with boobs)
2) thrift shop jeans, nice and comfy
3) hairy legs
4) one spot of red nail polish on my big toe, from last summer

4. Four things you did yesterday:
1) had my dad, mom, and big brother over for dinner
2) folded laundry at 5:30 am
3) drank 6 cups of water (I'm trying, really trying.)
4) went through Jane's closet. If she ever tells me again that she has nothing to wear, I'll have to punish her severely.

5. Four things you want to do really badly right now:
1) go to a thrift shop and discover an awesome piece of china or pottery, or an old hat with fabric flowers on it.
2) have another coffee, but I've already had 3
3) see all my children (biological and borrowed) healthy and off to school
4) eat a bitter classic truffle, leftover from Brian's teacher gifts

6. Four places you would like to vacation:
1) take my whole family to Thetis Island
2) see the East Coast
3) visit my brother and his family in Uganda
4) go to Haiti, or India or anywhere and adopt a baby

7. Four things you want to do before you die:
1) live in total victory, really understand what freedom in Christ means
2) sew a crazy quilt
3) pierce my nose?
4) make a difference ( I know that's cliche, but I really mean it)

8. Four things that show you are stereotypically a girl:
1) I check the size of my thighs in every shop window
2) I can be completely melted down by my emotions
3) love to find a good bargain
4) love a good lipstick

Thanks, blogger friend.

other people's children

Its funny what comes up when you spend your days looking after other people's kids. There's different varieties of little people who come into my care. The "pate and merlot" variety come wearing real Huggies diapers, clothes from real children's clothing stores, nice labels and all, backpack carefully packed with age appropriate toys, healthy snacks, extra soothers, emergency phone numbers. Their faces are always clean, their noses only sometimes runny, and never that really thick green, rank stuff.

These kids can sometimes waken the insecurity beast within me. Am I really capable of caring for such a child? What if she stays in her diaper for ten minutes after a pee and develops a slight rash? What if she gets raspberry jam on her sweater and the parents will figure out that I always forget bibs? or worse yet, that she eats raspberry jam at my house?!

Parents of such a child have long lists of wisdom to impart at the door before they leave for their very important jobs: We're working on weaning her off her soother; not too much milk today, she needs to have an appetite for our well balanced, slow food dinner tonight; Please encourage her to say "please" and "thank you".

I feel like I'm twelve again, and being trusted with the neighbor's kids. I want to ask permission to sing silly songs, let the kids go barefoot, eat homemade cookies that contain white sugar. I want to say that a little dirt is good for kids, that licking snot off their upper lip will help boost their immunity, that if we're having lots of fun, nap time may not directly follow lunch time. I want to explain that I'm just a regular person; with good days and bad.

Then there's the mac 'n' cheese variety kid. They come early, yawning in their crumpled jammies. When I dress them, they may have to wear borrowed underwear, their own forgotten at home. They come in sniffling, hungry, grumpy or talkative, in their brother's socks. They drop heavy things on the floor, pee their pants and adamently deny it, they take my jewellery and use it for dress-up.

Dad is in a hurry, grateful to leave the kids in a warm and happy home. He apologizes for being so early, offers to pay for damages, laughs at my shaved head. I tell him not to stress if he needs and extra 15 minutes at the end of the day for errands, don't worry about the floor, the couch, the cat.

Do you want to leave your kid with me? I promise I'll love them, laugh when they say silly kid things, let them play with play dough. I'll teach them how to share, say "no thanks" when they hate the lunch I cooked. I'll show them that its not always their turn, that we all share this planet; I'll teach them respect for others space and privacy.

I promise I will learn too. I will applaud myself for being easy- going, I will live in the moment, I will encourage your child no matter what her character or dress label they wear. We will embrace the fact that we are all different, special, unique, precious. If we are grumpy, we will talk about it. We will dig in the dirt, we will watch the flowers grow.

Will you trust me?

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

more crumpled papers

Further on the topic of of crumpled quotes and hidden treasures... There's a slip of paper that I have saved in a tin box for about 10 years now. Each "picnic stop" in life offers its own perspective and glimpses into things yet unknown. This quote for me has offered fresh challenges over the years as it resurfaces and offers its nourishment to me.

--from Nelson Mandela's 1994 inaugural speech

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our Light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"

Actually, who are you Not to be?
You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not in just some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear our presence automatically liberates others.

poor, poor me

The Hildebrands have been blessed with the flu. It came to us thanks to some daycare kids (What do you say when dad shows up at 5:30 am saying, "they may be a little tired, and not too hungry, having spent the past 4 days puking and you-know-whatting.) Some day I'll write a blog laced with resentment about the unexpected "gifts" I have received by opening up my home to these truly beautiful children.....

Jane got it first, then Arianna, and by this time I was feeling decidedly queasy. Moms shouldn't be in the line up for flus at all because we are not allowed the privelege. The mopping up of puke and other morsels still shows up on my to do list, whether I have a pulse or not.

Knowing that the boys are still in line for their turn, I decided to NOT call in sick for work last night. I knew that I needed some rest, and where better than at work?! Its one of the great unexpected blessings in my life that I have managed to secure a position in a care home that expects me to look after ONE person at a time AND they insist on sending me a pay cheque!!

Today I do feel more rested, and just in time for Micah to come downstairs this morning holding his tummy....Its high time that we all yack on our sheets anyhow, having found the time to get them all washed and reapplied in recent history thanks to our lice guests.

Do I sound bitter? Sorry, its self-pity that I meant to communicate.....

Monday, January 09, 2006

why do I ask "why"?

It's the first day back to school after Christmas break. Why does one daughter wake up to puke in the toilet and the other call to come home mid-morning with similar complaints?

Why do I even ask "why?" ?!

clever quotes

Because I have extra time today (having gone without sleep) I am getting to chores that never seem to get done, like going through the crunched up paper trail that Brian files on his side of the bed. I notice this crumpled piece of looseleaf which contains a quote:

"Time is really more about priority than time itself".

Hmmm, I think to myself, that's sort of clever . Brian must have found that on someone's blog, and thought it was noteworthy. Then I read the note further, still in Brian's hand scratch: "by: Joyce, Nov. 5, 'o5, 7:45, after two drinks."

Yeah, really clever.

words that I will miss

I am acutely aware of the relentless march of time. There are little boy words still to be heard in our household, but not for long. Here are some which I will miss:

Antofee (Anthony, Sam's daycare buddy)
why-yo (Mario)
gwee gwon (I need to go to the bathroom now, and have a bowel movement. Aren't we all glad that I shared this one?)
choppa chip (chocolate chip)
chogga yoke (chocolate milk)
pie-nan (spider man)
Pum pob pee in pants (sponge bob square pants)
ee-we-anna ( big sister Arianna)

Its hard for me to remember the older kids ever talking toddler talk, so I know that I'm likely to forget Sam's as well. The whole family has actually adopted Sam's language, until recently when it struck me that he's not going to look real bright going to kindergarten saying; "I go Gwee Gwon".......

The Message

I figured out a way to get it all done, too bad its not sustainable. I have been staying up til 12 or 1:00 am, catching up, and this morning I got up at 5:30. Its so sweet to have the house to myself, do ONE thing at a time, and be able to think through a complete thought beginning to end without inturuption. Too bad that my mental health goes straight to the toilet without adequate rest... (not that its a long trip.)

One of the greatest achievements of this burst of energy is that I found my copy of The Message. It was on the bookshelf. Now who thought that was a sensible idea?!! So, I looked up its version of Romans 8 1-4 and its very inspiring.

" with the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ's being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.

God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn't deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, He personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all. The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could never have done that.

The law always ended up being used as a band-aid on sin instead of a deep healing of it. And now what the law code asked for but we couldn't deliver is accomplished as we, instead of redoubling our own efforts, simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in us.

(Now I think I am going past verse 4, but this next section really speaks to me personally.)

"those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them- living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God. Anyone completely absorbed in self ignores God, ends up thinking more about self than God. That person ignores who God is and what he is doing. And God isn't pleased at being ignored.........

So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!"

Honestly, when I read this stuff I wonder where most of our Religious beliefs come from. Let's get back on track! This is an unbelievably liberating message. I have no doubt this message is for me personally because when I was a child, God woke me one morning with this Bible reference clearly imprinted on my mind. I didn't look it up immediately and read it, nor did I understand it for a very long time (I may just be getting it now, some25 years later....) but the implications are life altering.

I understand all too well about personal obsession and the dead end that it ultimately offers. God give me the grace and courage to embrace the wide open.

Friday, January 06, 2006

"Me go fwimmin' and you go away..."

(Me go swimming, and you go away).

Sammy has been quite clingy lately, It started out with a negative experience at church nursery one Sunday, then he had the nightmare about being abandoned at the swimming pool. He woke up crying, and when I took him into bed with me for the rest of the night, he kept a firm grip on me, even in his sleep. He seemed utterly convinced for days that he really had been left at some swimming hole, although I told him gently each time that it was a dream and that mommy is with him. Sam doesn't like for me to go to the store, or outside to take out the garbage, or really even to use the word "go", even if his dad is at home for him. It doesn't help that the two times in recent history that we actually left him in someone's care he landed up bleeding profusely...

I don't mind being needed, and its a lovely thing to be someone's safe place. I know there is a lesson in here somewhere, or maybe its a simple case of my own insecurities being propped up, knowing that one little soul in the world really believes he can remain safe and secure, just by clinging to me.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006


I guess when I spend the better part of a day letting fluids drain from my eyeballs, it shouldn't be surprising that upon waking up next morning, I half expected to be either dead from drowning, or ten pounds lighter.

I am pleased to report that I am neither dead nor anorexic, but feel more like I had some sort of mental and spiritual colonic; like the tears washed through part of the muck in my heart and in my mind. It feels relieving to be in touch with the pain, to face up to the real monster, instead of daily fighting my smaller man-made versions. Its not that scarey.

For my battle is not against flesh and blood , but against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 6:12)
And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. (6:17)

Well, I have all kinds of requests, so now all I have to do is attach them to all kinds of prayers.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

In the Moment

Living in the past evokes guilt.... Living in the future arouses anxiety. I choose then to live in the present. To take each situation as it arises, and be still within it.

"There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do in that it was weakened by the sinful nature, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful man to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in sinful man, in order that the righteous requirements of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the sinful nature but according to the Spirit."

(really wish I hadn't lost my copy of The Message, because I'd like to read that interpretation. When I find it, I will compare.).

Monday, January 02, 2006

kind of distracting...

That's kind of how I feel about the inside of my brain. I manage to get maybe half the fat cleared out of my thought waves, but you'd never know because the remaining fat really kind of grabs your attention.....

Good Intentions

"Go play nintendo until your brain liquifies and runs out of your ears."

Yes, its day 11 of Christmas break. Let the play dough rot in their self righteous colour coded wrappings. Forget the full size community ice rink right behind our yard. That "Operation" game from Wal-Mart is too bloody loud, and only a skilled neuro surgeon could remove that plastic adam's apple anyhow. The karaoke cd plays sucky songs, the chocolates taste waxy.

I think it would be wise to get about 5 more computers, and a couple of violent games. That way, the kids wouldn't need much attention . I could quilt til the kids graduate and Brian could blog in Japanese without having to take turns with the computer. Throw in a couple of frozen pizzas and this raising kids thing would be a breeze.

I'm always an amazing wife and mother til Brian and the kids come home and ruin it all.