Patience Is A Virtue

Patience is a virtue...I do not possess. I have very little patience and what I do have is used up trying not to drop "F bombs" while driving with 3 tiny men as passengers and refereeing when those same 3 tiny men feel the need to torment each other (and me) and fight.

I can't wait in lines. I go practically insane staring at the back side of the person in front of me. I shift from foot to foot. I roll my eyes when stupid people do stupid things to hold things up. At stores I mentally critique the cashiers technique and organize how I could do it better. I try my best not to breathe heavy and huff and puff. I hate lines.

My computer forces me to wait when I can't. I swear the lower my patience the slower the damn thing loads a page. The sight of the little loading icony thing by the mouse pointer makes me a little bit angry. I show my love for its little slow loading game by calling it nasty names.

My patience while driving is practically non-existent. My leg shakes while I hold down the brake pedal and wait for red lights. If the person stopped at a light doesn't start to drive through the second the light changes I have to fight the urge to honk and usually do growl "go!" at them under my breathe". When I drive somewhere that takes more than about 10 minutes I constantly look at the clock in the dash to see how much longer until I'm there and then add a few more kilometers to my speed.

When I worked at the Donut Shack I almost had to hold my own hand down from plucking the change out of people's hands when they stood there flipping the coins around in their hands trying to count it out. I don't know how I ever managed to make it almost 12 years without screaming at an indecisive customer "what the *@#! do you want already?!". Or to the customer that ummmm...ummmmm...ummmms, "ummmm...t-t-t-t-today jr!". Thinking back now, perhaps that is where all of my patience went. It got all used up on all those hundreds of patience stealing creeps I was forced to serve in a day.

Poor Papa Bear. All of the projects he starts I want done. Done like the day after regardless of the project. He is in the middle of a project he says will take 3-4 months. I know Papa Bear speed and I say 5-6 month project-we shall see which is more accurate. This project may just put me in a straight jacket and drive me all the way to the nut house and drop me in a padded room. Building the addition sounded like a great idea until it started. When we talked about building it I was all for it with dreams of a second bathroom (without pee on the seat), a walk in closet (Papa Bear still hasn't told me where he is going to keep his clothes yet), a basement with a playroom (thank the lord, I'm sick of tripping over tractors in my kitchen), a new and larger family room (where the whole family can actually all be without sitting on top of each other) and renovating our existing family room into an much needed office for Papa Bear and I (the corner of the kitchen counter, in front of the dishwasher isn't really cutting it for my business space) all dancing in my head. Now I just want it done. Yesterday. Done.

I try, I really do. I just can't wait..for anything. It drives Papa Bear nuts. I hope patience (or lack of) isn't something that is hereditary or contagious, I don't want my boys to catch it and if it is something that is learned could someone please come over here and teach them so they don't have to worry about how red their face is turning while they wait for their turn on a roller coaster please?

Close Quarters

Today we reached the point in our renovations that I knew was coming and I dreaded its arrival. Today was the day that Fuzzy's room needed to be evacuated and he would have to share a room with Little Bear likely for a couple of months.

I love my sleep and therefore not at all looking forward to my best sleeper being bunked up with my worst (although Wee One is in good contention to take over the title as worst...). For their entire lives all 3 of my boys have had their own separate rooms in my home. This is a big adjustment for me..err I mean them.

Little Bear is less than impressed to have his space invaded by a pint sized intruder. Fuzzy on the other hand couldn't be happier. It is like he won the lottery and was lifted up and dropped right in the middle of Big Boy World and surrounded by all that used to be forbidden fruit.

In Big Boy World there are real Lego - not that Megablock/Duplo block crap. The real deal, choking hazard, build a tower more than 10 blocks tall stuff. There are books with paper pages instead of cardboard (easier to digest after chewing half a page though not as filling). There are pencil crayons and scissors and all kinds of things that little boys aren't supposed to touch. There is a whole other pajama drawer to explore when the mood strikes to wear half a dozen different jammies to bed in one night. There is an alarm clock just begging to have its buttons pushed and time changed. Poor Little Bear.

The 2 boys had barely shared a room for more than a few hours when the fighting over territory started. Little Bear screaming at Fuzzy to put his blankets back on his bed and Fuzzy looking bewildered by the request. How are you supposed to tunnel through the blanket and pretend you are a caterpillar or such while the blankets are still on the bed? As if it was an unheard of request.

Today was just the beginning of hearing things like "he's touching all my stuff", "its my stuff too now", "he's making a mess!", he won't stay on his side" "that's mine!" among others. Oh how I long for this renovation to be complete! I can't wait to have an extra room that isn't full of stuff. I don't know why we didn't think of doubling up the boys to make room before - oh that's right because it is INSANE.

Walmart Wipeout

I am such a loser. The other night I was headed to do a home party for my business when I decided to make a quick stop at Walmart for deodorant. (Just to clarify I already had deodorant on but was running low on it at home...not that the other situation has not happened since I tend to forget things often). I was a little over dressed for your local Walmart with my dress casual clothing and (super cute, pointed toe kitten heeled) dress shoes but who cares definitely not the people of Walmart.
I was in a bit of a hurry so away I went booking it down one of the main aisles toward the deodorant aisle.

Now I am not a professional high heel shoe wearer by any means and the particular shoes I had on didn't have a high heel they were just tiny little kitten heels. I'm pretty sure the following would have still happened in flip-flop just maybe not to the same degree.

I hit an overly buffed slippery spot on the floor partially down the main aisle. My feet went one way, my body went the other and I found myself laying on the floor in front of a dozen or so spectators. Oh how cool did I feel, laying on the floor in Walmart, in my dress clothes with half the contents of my fabulous pink purse scattered beside me while their stupid little yellow smiley face mascot laughs at me from the top of every aisle.

The lady directly in front of me looked mortified, "are you OK Dear?"
"Physically."
By physically I mean ouch that freaking hurt and is probably going to leave a bruise but nothing compared to the huge beating my pride just received. Seriously lady, stop looking at me. Just continue on with your shopping as if you hadn't seen a thing. Plleeaaasse.

I collected my scattered belongings, picked myself up off the floor and continued in a slower, more cautious way to the deodorant aisle, made my purchase and left the scene of my humiliation all the while resisting the need to limp on my way out of the store.

I can just imagine the guy sitting in front of the security monitors hitting rewind and play over and over again. At least I'm sure I put a smile on his face for the day. You're welcome.

Bear Family - Under Construction

Papa Bear and I have been planning an addition to our house for a while now. It probably would have been completed a long time ago except for one big thing...Papa Bear is the KING of procrastination. Several months ago Papa Bear starting working a little more seriously on planning the addition. After about a dozen different drawings of what looked like the same thing we came up with a plan. (I really just think Papa Bear was in need of some arts and craft time so he could use his graph paper and ruler and pencils and stuff).

Papa Bear told me we were to break ground March 1st..April 1st...May 1st...June 1st...finally on June 21st a backhoe finally showed up in my yard to start the dig...only 3 months and 20 days later than I had originally been told to expect it. The crew of 2 were expected at 9am...they arrived at around 4:15pm... They dug 3 stumps out of the ground and called it a day. Wow, that was productive.

This morning they showed up bright and early and with a 3rd member of their crew a very tired and hung over member but a member none the less. I don't really think you have to be on top of your game to stand in a hole with a pole and occasionally do a bit of manual digging so I think he was good. However, his mama should have sent him with a bottle of sunscreen because he is going to be a hurting unit tomorrow.

They dug all day and it appears the hole is just about complete. I have been informed that they will be pouring cement tomorrow - for sure. "For Sure" - oh I can not count how many times I have heard these 2 little words that don't mean jack s--t. We shall see...

The boys are already testing the newly set limitations that have been imposed on them for the duration of the renovation. Wherever I tell them they aren't allowed to play they play. Whatever I tell them they aren't allowed to touch they touch. I have a feeling this is going to feel like a much longer process than it actually is.

It is only day 2 of renovation and already I've had enough. I'm sure my frustration with the situation will flow over to this blog more than once especially when it comes time to eliminate Fuzzy's room and 2 boys have to bunk up together. Lord give me the strength I'm going to need "for sure".

Legfro

Even though we seemed to have skipped spring here in Southwestern Ontario, Canada and went straight from winter to summer, it is shorts weather again. Yay...... Not only do my pasty, white chicken legs not look appealing in any sort of leg baring apparel but there is that little task that us women do that has to be better kept up on. That's right I'm talking about shaving our legs.

Don't get me wrong I don't walk around like a hairy Sasquatch all winter or anything but I also don't shave my legs EVERY day either. Though I do know a few that do (Kat). I only bare my ankles and calf from under a pair of capris but I do like to have nice soft freshly shaved legs when all of Stinkburg can see them (even if they are blinded by the glare of their whiteness).

Shaving your legs doesn't sound like such a hard job, I know but when you have to squeeze a shower into 10-15 minutes with one kid playing in the bottom of the tub, one yelling at the door that he has to poop and Papa Bear coming in and out of the bathroom asking random questions and conferencing about what is going on during the week since this seems to be one of the few times both of us are home together for a few minutes, it can seem like a pretty big task.

Sometimes I think, why not just let it all grow out? I could grow a legfro and just pick it out all big and fluffy. Or braid it with beads on the ends that would sway when I walk. I haven't french braided any ones hair and could use the practice. Corn rows might be a nice touch. All of the above would cut down on the glare that is produced by my lack of tan.

Who decided women should shave their legs anyway? A man no doubt... If it had been a women she would have added a rule that required all men to trim their ear and nose hair daily or get pedicures and use hand moisturizer or something along those lines.

Of course their are some women that are willing to walk around au natural and let their leg fringe fly like giant tarantulas. Not really something anyone wants to see and hey if I can manage to find the time to make my legs look presentable so should you Legzilla.

Psychotic Psychic

I don't know whether or not I believe in psychics or not. I don't count them out all together but I'm waiting for one to blow me away with their astonishing accuracy that will remove so much doubt.

A good friend, Ash Smoke and I went to a psychic who was part of a charity event. I was blown away but not by his astonishing accuracy but instead by his bizarre comments and ridiculously corny sense of humour (yeah I know could be considered the pot calling the kettle black). The man was nuts. Nuts I tell you.

He was a bit of a cliche dressed all in black, clutching a chunk of crystal. I told Ash if he pulled out a crystal ball I was out of there. He gibber-gabbered about karma and past lives and how we choose everything that happens in our lives before we are even conceived - I doubt very much that unless I was a mental patient in a previous life that I chose a lot of things.

He talked about how when someone does something bad to you in this lifetime it is because you have done something bad to them and the only way to stop the cycle is to forgive the other person. There are a few people that have "done me wrong" that I will give a few more lifetimes and a few more bouts of revenge before I forgive them and stop the cycle.

At the end of this crazy man's spiel he left opportunity for each person to ask him 4 questions in a person one on one. Of course you could ask additional questions for the low, low price of $4 each. I had some trouble coming up with my 4 questions. Not because I was worried what this man would think of me if I asked certain questions - let's face it I was for once the sanest of the of us - but because I just could think of 4 things I wanted to know about my future.

I decided to ask if I would have another child. This is something I go back and forth on all the time. It pretty much only depends on the behaviour of my current 3 children at the time. The psychotic psychic said no, I would not have anymore children. Hmmmm ok.

I asked if I would continue on the same career path and he said yes. As soon as I get rid of a job that will be fine with me.

I asked if my children would be successful in life. He said yes they would all be productive members of society. Whewwww a weight lifted. I guess now I never have to worry about any of my boys ending up in prison or Parliament.

My last question was whether or not my mother and I would ever be able to repair our relationship. He said no but we would be civil. This is where we are now so I guess this is where we stay. I can live with that even if it is not ideal.

All in all this weirdo did nothing to increase my belief in psychics but it was interesting to hear his take on some things, a fun day with Ash and a few bucks towards Cancer research and treatment.

Bad, Bad Blogger

I've been a bad, bad blogger. String me up by my toes, tar and feather me, whatever (a little punishment could be fun ;)). In all fairness though I did warn my 2 readers I had in the beginning that I probably wouldn't be any good at this. I used to blog at night after all my baby bears where snug in their beds before I went to bed. These days that time is filled by my second job selling purses, jewelry and other fun girlie stuff.

I love blogging but it just doesn't seem to fit into my day like it did. I've had lots of things that have made me think "I'm going to blog about that" but never seemed to get a chance to sit down in front of the computer to make it happen. I've run into people who have said "you need to blog" or "I miss reading your blogs" and for those people I would love to have something for them. Maybe I could just call them up and tell them verbally while I pack lunches or input numbers into the computer for work? I'm a multi-tasker it could happen.

I do have a few things I really do need to share with my dwindling number of readers. A trip to a psychic among them. Rekindling old friendships. A good friend gone crazy. A dumb but beautiful dog. I'm definitely not lacking for topics just time.

Please come back and check for postings (I just had a mental picture of me hanging onto someones leg begging them not to leave their computer). I promise I'll try to post more often if time allows.