... and you were speechless .... and I was giddy
.... and you drank too much ... and I was tipped too much.

I love you , D.

Yes, I watched that last night. What a warm Christmas flick, I tell ya.
It was a gallant attempt at facing some of my more irrational fears
- a bit of a New Years quest, if you will.

So the film ended at about 11:30pm.
D watched the casting and the genesis of the movie with me as I tried to convince my over-active brain that although it was based on a true story, it wasn't based on the future of my true story - or Franklin's, or D's.

D went to bed at midnight.
I was up until 2am.
I'm not even studying - honest.
I'm really that freaked out by these unscary Hollywood courtroom Catchecism class seminars.

This morning, once I examined everyone for signs of demonic possession, we started the official Franklin Boot Camp of Independence.
Now, this would make a good horror story.

Ask me how long it took to get dressed this morning with not a finger lifted by either Mother or Father.
Answer: 45 minutes.

Actually, I think it's going not too badly - considering.
The week of slow transition to the preschool has the little guy seeing things a little differently. As well, it has me seeing how much I shelter him and, as a result, hold him back.
Yes Ada! Your child can put on his own slippers, coat, boats, mittens shirts, pants, underwear and socks. Amazing!

The socks shocked the shit out of me.
(Say that 5 times fast)

But, you know? It's not so much that he can't do these things, it is that he gets so easily distracted. I do believe he has an abnormally fickle brain for concentration on one task. Watching this distraction in action (5 times), I am frightened for him and his scholastic ability.
Was it the scotch I drank on New Years? He was conceived on January the 8th - thereabouts.
Perhaps it was more like December the 28th?

I remember my math teacher in Grade 12 realizing I had a serious concentration problem. In an effort to help, he told me that whenever my mind started to wander I had to say, "NO!" out loud and get back to my studies. The only problem was there were many times when it took me 45 minutes to realize I was actually wandering. By then, I was drawing a sketch or examining my pimples and couldn't possibly be interrupted to do 15 calculus questions that were essentially the same anyway.
Right?
I mean, weren't they all the same?
I wouldn't know.
I was drawing my right big toe.

Yeah.
I'm scared for the guy.
Clearly, his father would have been the more suitable gene parent to choose from.

We had such a wonderful Christmas.
I hope all of you did as well.

My increasingly geeky sister and her partner came for a visit and introduced my son (and me) to the world of Warcraft. I have pictures of Franklin making a troll (or something) jump up and down.
He thought it was hilarious.
For the first time in my life (and hopefully the last because I have no willpower) I killed a bunch of wild boars. What a dangerously addicting game. It's a good thing this big beast of a computer can't load that game.

I notice I haven't been much of a blogger lately. I am starting to resent that little calendar in the top right side of my margin.
School was crazy.
I learned a lot though. I learned that as a control freak who just-wants-everyone-to-get-along, group work takes a lot more work than just doing it yourself. That, and you can't trust anyone that says they are a professional writer to be a good writer, and sometimes when you are editing someone else's work, you have to be brutal. You don't get good marks by worrying about ego.

I'm babbling.
Perhaps because I've had more than 6 hours of sleep for about 4 days in a row.

Anyway, one of my papers was phenomenal - both in the writing and the marks. I thought I could have got a better mark, but what I thought was a good thing (getting more outside sources than just the class readings) was essentially a bad idea. Different profs, different tastes. What can you do?

I writing this just to get something out online. I can't believe I'm still going over last semester. Especially when I have school work to think about come January. I'm trying to take a break but it's difficult. Especially when I can't play Warcraft...

Anyway, I dropped my sister off at the airport after witnessing a virtual orgasm in a comic book store.
Thanks for coming you guys. I miss you already - especially the laptop that played Warcraft.

I think I have a problem.
Seriously, I'm not kidding.
har.

go for help! Originally uploaded by dirtyolive.

it's burning!!!!! Originally uploaded by dirtyolive.

I am rewriting a paper for publication. The first version was dismal.
D.I.S.M.A.L.
I'm hoping this second draft will be acceptable because the process may just give me the last set of gray hairs and extra sallow skin that will make my transition from good-looking woman to tired looking... complete.

I'm not sure I resemble a woman anymore so I can't tack that onto the last phrase.

This will teach me to hand in a piece of writing with my eye shut and fingers crossed. That almost never works. I think the last time it worked, the person looking it over had malaria.
Clearly, we need more malaria in North America.

Seriously, I'm not kidding.
Har. I love writing that.

If I were to make a list of things I dislike doing, analyzing a paper of mine would be right up near the top. Clustered around it would be mastitis, arguments with my older brother and cleaning the bathroom after a balding man (or woman in my case, it seems).

The only thing that's making it palatable is the Check Your Head, Beastie Boys album I'm listening to.
Dr. Boot-ay.

Crap.
D just took back his headphone to do the dishes.
Bastard.

Sigh.
Le Sigh.
Someone give me another way to say,

"The main strategy of industry groups has been to suggest that recycling of plastics is best accomplished by what industry figures call waste-to-energy recycling".

There's too much "recycling" in that sentence.
It sounds dumb.

There's a portion of the Christmas Grinch, a dab of my crazy assignment, a cup of blog ennui and a whole lot of "Franklin! Would you Puuuleeeease!" in my eggnog these days.

There is no alcohol due to the afore mentioned dab of crazy and that's really too bad because the mornings before work seem to require a hefty dose of rum.

Good News:
Franklin will be moving on to a new centre soon. He is to join many of his old friends and other older kids and will be able to model after them. At the moment he is in the world of toddler and his long-awaited leap to pre-school has finally come. This is good because intellectually, I think he was a little bored in the centre he's in now. Of course more challenge is good but it also brings with it the....

Bad News:
Franklin is persistent, Franklin is intelligent, Franklin has self-confidence and loves to smile and laugh. However, what Franklin seems to lack is that stage of insistence that all toddlers seem to go through at one point or another - the "Let-Me-Do-It-Myself!" stage. Of course, this passive quality has helped us immensely when we need to get somewhere quickly. Children are slow - at everything. However, a child that is willing to talk (and talk and talk and talk) while I slip on the shoes, the hat, the coat and the gloves is handy when time is short.

However, at preschool, this passive distraction is not an indulgence he can enjoy. Self-motivation and independence is key. It's a good lesson to learn; just not one I think he's actually ready for, unfortunately.
We're working on it though. Last night he took off all his clothes and put on his pajamas ALL BY HIMSELF!
This brought tears to my eyes, not just because of raging pre-menstrual hormones, but because watching him do all this without my help both scared and delighted me. We are raising a fully functioning human being!

Okay, the jury is still out on this, but I'm optimistic.

Why was it so easy last night and not this morning?
Let me tell you.

Franklin is in love with himself.
Of course, I love that he loves himself but the reason he was so willing to do everything on his own last night was because he was watching his reflection in the full length mirror throughout the entire process - with a little Mona Lisa smile the whole time. You could tell he was impressed with his capabilities but do you think he would remember this ability this morning?

No no nonononon.

This morning was full of "I can't dooooooo it" and "Mommmmmy, Heeeeeeeeeelp Meee" and "Nooooooo" and "Whaaaaa" and...
Okay I'll stop now; I'm stressing myself out all over again.

Cripes.
Give me strength.

Because I am extremely, insanely and almost destroyingly busy (destroyingly?! not a word, Ada!), I am prepared to throw out the most embarrassing story I can think of that my dear partner D has already charmingly related to my Father-in-law and my brother-in-law - so I can't be embarrassed by this anymore, ever.

Having a child of three is a hell of lot like being pregnant; you become intimately familiar with every bathroom in every store, cafe and restaurant that you frequent. In fact, it becomes a bit of a pre-requisite of sorts - if you don't have a public bathroom, whatever I need from your store just isn't worth the gamble. Although I should add that a dirty, crusty bathroom will not a return customer make me... unless of course it's London Drugs where cute Quebecois employees let me use their men's staff bathroom and wait outside to make sure no one else enters while talking to co-workers in unbelievably cute accents....
So nice.
I should really talk to his manager.

Anyway, the bathroom in Zeller's, Hillside? It isn't very clean. It's the restaurant bathroom by the pharmacy and although it was the end of the work day, there has to be some sort of senior's rush for a 5:30 supper hour that would require them to clean up the stalls and fix the leaking faucets, non?
See what Quebecois men do to me? I start talking in crappy French.

Nevertheless, Franklin and I were toilet bound because toys do to his pipes what books do to mine - empty themselves.

I don't know why.
Everytime I'm in a bookstore, I have to go to the bathroom. It's gotta be that I can finally relax... yes, everything.
I can only think that this is the same for him as he tends lets out the smelliest farts when we hang out, obsessively adding to his Santa checklist.

Oh, and talking about this Santa thing?
I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with this lie. I'm not so sure I want to be filling his head with Santa crap. I can't remember a time I actually believed in Santa myself. I'm not sure this has to do with an overly obnoxious big brother or that my parents weren't big on the "better be good" thing and were more in favour of the "Jesus was born in a manger and you live in a house with electricity" thing.

I'm thinking I'd like to come to some middle ground in a Jesus was born in straw and so are a lot of other children who have no concept of free gifts on some particular time of year so lets appreciate it and give something to the community so we can stop talking about what you want every 5 seconds kind of way.
You know?

Of course, this is just me.

Okay, back to the original story. We're in the bathroom, I’ve hoisted Franklin a couple of inches off the seat, he’s done his thing and it's my turn. I’ve never been particularly shy around Franklin with my body. In fact, I’ve really tried to be proud of my body in a Herculean effort to avoid any hint of a bad body image. I tell him that he's beautiful, I tell him that I’m beautiful, I tell him that his Dad is beautiful (and Lordy, he is) and I try to relate that although beauty is more than skin-deep, I like myself the way I am and so should he. So with all that affirmation and non-shyness in the naked department, I didn’t think twice that he was standing behind me as I tried to pee in the stall without touching the grimy seat.
There he was, wedged by the flusher with a full view of… everything.
Ev.Re.Thing.

So what does my body appreciating, self-confident, out-spoken son say in a loud voice to me and the rest of the women trying not to touch their ass to the toilet seat?

“Wow, Mom! You have a Big Round Bum!
And there’s a Vagina in there too!!!�

Ah, motherhood.
It’s humbling in oh, so many ways.


Happy Birthday D.
- and I promise not to spoil Santa Claus for our son.
At least, I promise to talk to you about it first.

"You think you know something, don't you? You think you're the clever little girl who knows something. There's so much you don't know, so much. What do you know, really? You're just an ordinary little girl, living in an ordinary little town. You wake up every morning of your life and you know perfectly well that there's nothing in the world to trouble you. You go through your ordinary little day, and at night you sleep your untroubled ordinary little sleep, filled with peaceful stupid dreams. And I brought you nightmares. Or did I? Or was it a silly, inexpert little lie? You live in a dream. You're a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? Do you know the world is a foul sty? Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it? Wake up, Charlie. Use your wits. Learn something."


I've read this recently, this quote, but I don't remember where. I think it was below a photo of something I was researching....
Seriously, I don't remember.

Whatever the case. It's from a Hitchcock film, Shadow of a Doubt. I remember a summer I spend home from university where all I did for weeks was rent old movies and watch them with my Mother.

I don't think I've felt that calm and peaceful in a long, long time. I didn't have any assignments due, I wasn't racing the clock, I slept, I ate, I ran, I laughed and I wasn't constantly wondering what my next move should be.... in anything.

I miss that feeling.

(snatched from Mommy's Empty Head who got it here)

By the way, if you're only seeing red and there is no whilte background, you don't have to let me know.
I know.
I'm trying to rectify the situation.

I will never do this again. Do you hear me Internet?
I am making you responsible to personally chew me out because I don't think I trust myself NOT to take two courses and work full time while being a mother and partner - again.

I had almost convinced myself that I can do this for one more semester.
However, I re-evaluated tonight as every little thing Franklin did seemed to intentionally piss me off.
Upon further reflection and inquiry with D, there is no toddler conspiracy to make The Mother insane. He's just being a regular three year old and I'm being a regular cranky bitch that can't handle a child head butting me in the ass as I bend over to pick up his coat he just tossed oh-so-casually onto the floor behind him.

I have a large post in mind regarding why I am doing this, where this ambitious drive is coming from and how I will provide a reputation for myself as "The Crazy lady on the Internet Who Thinks the Sky is Falling", but now is not the time to do it.

Now is the time for writing about New Urbanism and Walkable Suburbs, Edmonton neighbourhoods and Design Charrettes, the economics of Road Diets and community involvement. These are all things I want to bury my head into and concentrate on for the next few days until I can finally lift out of the fog and turn in something of which I am immensely proud.
However, I know this will not happen. It's not possible.

Instead, I will do the best I can "under the circumstances" while I simultaneously write Christmas cards, go to Truck Light Parades and visit Santa Claus in the mall.
(Oh, and I’ll try and show up for work on time and stick my tongue down my partner's throat for a bit so he’ll remember who I am)

You know, I don’t think I’d want this any other way – except for one less course, please.

Holy Moses.
Why the hell am I writing right now?!?!?!