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Today I was having lunch with my brother when I got a call from my husband.

I’m tired of saying “husband” all the time… it’s too official. I need to come up with a pseudonym for him.  Sort of like “Mr.Big” but nothing with a sexual connotation. Let’s call him Jack for now until we figure this out. I’ll be taking suggestions.

So I got a call from Jack “I read your blog, there’s a problem. You finished your text without a conclusion or a proper ending. You tell the reader a story and then BOOM you just stop! You can’t do that!” and apparently my brother agrees. The reason for that is the fact that I could write forever. So I write and then I stop because I run out of free time. The “story” is technically not over, it’s never over…

The conversation goes on:

Jack: You say he earns his nicknames well. How are people supposed to understand what you mean?

Me: If they read the blog, they know what I mean.

Jack: Oh ya? Ask your brother.

So I ask my brother.

Me: You read my post today, what did I mean by nicknames?

Bro: I dunno…I forgot

Me: just think

Bro: The unsupporter?

Me: CLOSE ENOUGH! See! An avid reader of the blog knows what I mean!

Jack: Avid reader? You have one fan and it’s your brother! Relax!

As soon as I finish dealing with that…I get another call. I answer. Someone’s frantically yelling at me.

It’s my mommy friend from the spa day… she read the post.

CONCLUSION: How time flies! All this chatter and I didn’t even  have time to tell you about the magic flute.

I guess it will have to wait till tomorrow…

After reading yesterday’s “ Why a blog?” my husband said “it sounded like you had nothing to write, so you forced yourself to write that up” I have to add that he’s repeatedly told me “You’re eventually going run out of stuff to write about.” He earns his nicknames well… So I’ll tell you exactly what I told him. I’ve been studying practically my whole life. And like any student, I’ve spent countless hours in front of a computer trying to write up essays, sometimes without motivation or inspiration. There’s no way I’m doing that again!

Another interesting reaction was my mother in law. She reads my blog… and now she’s reading this and probably freaking out wondering what I’m going to say about her… lol  When I went over today, she said in a serious but playful tone “What’s happening to you ?! Why are you so stressed?! Stop worrying so much. Don’t you know you have us; we’re all here to help you.”  This meant a lot to me. She’s right. I have great support from both sets of parents. There’s not one day that goes by without us relying on them for something. These kids came into our lives so quickly that I don’t even think we had time to grow up. We’re basically kids with kids and this is our story…

So this week I’m in self-help mode. I’m trying to better organize our mess and I took a spa day.

I went to the spa with a good friend of mine who’s also a mommy. Well, she couldn’t stand still for one minute and could not keep quiet for the life of her. It was like taking a spa day with my four year old! (I told you if you didn’t stop I would blog about you. lol). It was hard for me to truly relax and disconnect. I must admit I was thinking about the kids throughout the whole massage. I kept trying to free my mind, but it was hard. Later on I fell asleep in one of the relaxation rooms and dreamt of the kids. 

I carry a little note book around with me everywhere I go, to take notes when I get ideas of stuff to blog about. When I come back and read them, either I can’t understand my own hand writing or I come to realize that it’s a bad idea. Honestly I’m not so sure what the purpose of a blog is yet, but I’m learning more about it every day. When I think I have a good idea I have to write it down  right away but sometimes taking out a note book in public and scribbling can be weird. With all the technology these days… smart phones, I pads, I pods, tablets… who still uses a note book?

When I think I have an idea, I need to write it down right away because I can’t rely on my memory. My brain is so over flooded with detailed information about the children that I forget all the rest. I never know what day of the week it is, but I always know the exact time.  Has it ever happened to you to find yourself in front of the TV during a commercial break wondering “What the heck was I watching?” Well I’m way beyond that point. This week I dropped something and it went under the couch, as I was crouched down, looking under there, I found myself wondering “What the heck am I looking for?”

My two younger kids are still babies, but my 4 year old is starting to pick up on my deficiency. Evenings in our house are complete chaos. We have three kids to feed, bathe, change and put to bed. Problem is we have a baby, a toddler and a 4 year old, and all of them have different requirements. For example, no two eat the same. The new born is on breast milk, the toddler eats mash and the 4 year old is extremely picky. She discriminates food with color. She won’t eat anything green because it’s a boy’s color and her favorite color is pink. So I give her lobster and I tell her it’s pink chicken.

No two bathe the same, new born bathes in a small tub, toddler in the bathtub and the 4 year old already showers. Then there’s the bed time milk routine … basically the bed time routine is very long and complicated. So one evening, after we had accomplished all our tasks and all three kids were in bed, we sat down on our bed in releif, and as soon as we did, we heard my 4 year old call “Maaami? Baaabi?” and we replied simultaneously “Whaaaaaat!?” expecting the usual “I’m cold”, “I’m hot”, “I’m thirsty” or the ever so famous “My leg hurts”. Poor thing answered from her room “but mami, babi , you put me in bed in my clothes.”

There had been a minor miscommunication between me and my husband and she was never put in pajamas.

And our morning routine…Oh my! Well that’s a whole other story.

Glad to know I’m not the only one who still hasn’t taken down my Christmas tree. I must admit, I still light it up sometimes in the evening. I love Christmas lights. Last year I left the Christmas tree on lights on so long that, actually not last year. Last year my husband didn’t let me put a tree up. He said that if I put it up I would never have time to take it down.  Hmmm. Maybe I should’ve listened to him this year too.  No! Good thing I didn’t listen to him. He’s the Grinch and he’s trying to steal Christmas. He doesn’t want to receive gifts (because he doesn’t want to give gifts), he hates it when I put on Christmas music and if it were up to him, we would spend Christmas on the couch watching reruns of the 1993 Stanley Cup finals.  Yes, I’m a hockey widow.  Do I watch the game? I watch the game alright! I stare at the top-right corner of the screen, watching the countdown to the end of his hockey coma.

So the year before I left the Christmas tree on lights on so long that, by the time it was Christmas Eve my lights were all burnt and the tree looked pathetic. Maybe it would’ve still looked pathetic even if all the lights worked… There’s not one real ornament on there. It’s all stuffed toys and unbreakable things. With these kids, there’s no way I’m going to spend my time with “No, don’t touch this” and “No, don’t touch that”.  We got this poor old tree at a garage sale for 2 $. It was a summer Saturday afternoon and we had left the children at the grandparents’ house in order to go buy a suit for my husband to wear at my sister in law’s engagement that was only a week away. My in laws were eagerly waiting for us to return to see the new suit .On the way there we came across a garage sale. We came back with a Christmas tree, an inflatable pool and a broken DVD player.  We were so excited and they were… not. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Sort of like when Jack came back home after selling the cow for some magic beans.