Put up your Dukes!!
I am feeling so beat up these days! Kinda like I've been in an emotional boxing ring with a pint sized Mohamed Ali. Benjamin fights me on every single thing, ever single day. Every SINGLE day. Seriously! Not physically, of course, but everything I say to him, everything I ask of him, everything I tell him to do, etc, becomes a big fight and I end up raising my voice more than I like to. Not yelling, but raising my voice so loud that I may as well be yelling. What is the deal with that????? And how in all that is holy do you stop the insanity???? I could certainly yell (and I know I would feel better for all of about 1 second) but I sooooo don't want to be that mother! I swear I don't! I just cringe when I see/hear those women who lose it and just scream at their kids. It makes me feel physically sick. And even I know, coming from a somewhat "loud" upbringing myself, that yelling really serves no purpose.

Just for an example: I'll say something simple like "Hey Benjamin, let's get our shoes on and go outside for awhile" he'll say "No, not yet, mommy, in 5 minutes". Ok, I wait. I'll ask this, oh, say about 5 more times, and the answer is always the same. So then I'll just say "Ok, I guess we'll just stay inside then", and then he'll say "I'm ready to go now". Before we end up going anywhere, I'll usually have to change his diaper or put a sweater on him or put on socks that don't happen to be blue because all the blue ones are dirty because that's all he wants to wear - you get the picture? - and that becomes a whole new fight that always seems to end up with him crying, being plain defiant, and with me pissed off and wanting so bad to YELL. YELL - YELL - YELL - YELL - YELL!! That actually feels a little better ;) I am aware that it's a power struggle going on here, but I don't want to be a part of it. I'm tired of negotiating all day, every day. Some days I just want to voice the command and *poof* it's done. With no struggle......*sigh* I guess we're battling the "terrible twos" with a 3 year old :(

Today eating lunch, after we'd had some rather loud discussion because he had to - god forbid! - wash his hands before eating, and I had to inform him that he could get the the play-doh out AFTER he ate lunch, Ben says to me in a tiny little voice "Mommy, are you mad at me?". Oh my god, my heart broke and I burst into tears right there. He shouldn't have to feel that at this age, for cryin' in a bucket! I just went to him and wrapped him in my arms. Then he took my face in his little hands and he said "Mommy, can I make you happy?" (when he's crying, he asks me to "make him happy" by giving him a kiss and hug) and he gave me the most tender kiss and hug. How is it possible to get so frustratetd with a little being that is so sensitive to me? It causes me much guilt and at times, great heartache.
My girlfriend Aniek (who is the wisest mom I know and should, in all seriousness, be dispensing parenting advice for more money than Dr. Phil) hit the nail on the head when she said to me that I need to have way more "me" time than I currently have. She's right; I know this to be true, but I just don't seem to do it. It's me giving me lip service. Greg is always encouraging me to get out and do things on my own, but truth be told: I don't quite know what to do with myself that isn't somehow Benjamin-related. How sad and pathetic is that?

So from now on, I'm making a promise to myself to really try and get out more often - sans child. And not grocery shopping or the occasional daytime lunch or coffee, but actual night time getting out - movies, dinners, girl talk, shopping (for ME!) etc.

Hopefully it will help restore some of what's left of my sanity......

It ain't the articles!

It's official! If a boy tells you that he reads Playboy for the "articles" he's full of you-know-what. It appears that my husband (who is quite literate) has a problem reading my blog because recently I haven't been adding any pictures.

Me: "Honey, have you read my recent post?"

Him: "Are there any pictures?"

Me: "No"

Him: "Then no"

Me: "Do you plan on reading it?"

Him: "Do you plan on adding any pictures?"

Me: "No"

Him: "Again, no"

Well, there you have it. Articles, shmarticles........it's all about the pictures.

So here's to you, honey - pictures - most with captions and everything!

Ben and Greg at "work"

Helping Aunty Karen set up her tent at Lac Le Jeune Ben & Aunty Karen


Ben & Aunty Teresa Breakin' bread with Lee Greg dirt biking at Tunkwa Lake (nice pink helmet!)
In the attic checking the roof for leaks after the recent freak rain storm (no leaks - yay!)
Always ready & willing to help out Daddy

You've met Murphy, right?

Well I've definately met him, and I'm darn sure he (and his "law") is just around the corner.
You see we've decided to do a little renovating in our very old, very much loved, very humble abode. We've talked about doing it for, oh-I-don't-know, maybe 7 or 8 years, but it's only been lip service, really. I like to blame it on my "frugal" husband, but the actual reason is that when this property sells, the house will be torn down and be replaced by townhouses (of course, that's after it's been rented out to grow-op dirtbags - trust me, it's been happening in our neighborhood for about 3 years now!). So doing anything always seemed like a big fat waste of money. Don't get me wrong, we have done some minor decorating (painting) and we did design the nursery (exit, stage-left the pink paint and doves/hearts/flowers wallpaper that adorned the walls since 1965), so we're not living in swill or anything! Ha Ha!

The roof needs to be replaced (also circa 1965) which costs a bloody fortune these days, but for the last couple of years Greg has been able to take care of any minor leaks that have happened. So we decided that instead of putting money into the roof, we're going to be gutting the bathroom as well as turning Ben's room into an actual "big boy" room!!! I am sooooo excited to get this show on the road!!! Mostly about doing Ben's room, the bathroom; not so much. There will be much arguing, complaining, bickering (on my part mostly) about it, but I'm so glad it's going to finally get done that I'm going to do my best to be happy and smiley all the live-long day! By gutting I literally mean gutting - the rotten window frame and ledge are already out and has revealed (surprise, surprise) rotten gyprock (is that how you spell it?) underneath. I can only imagine what's behind the bath and shower stall considering that there are cracks all through the entire enclosure!!, the flooring is going (along with the probably some-what rotten floorboards), the vanity is going, the horrid institutional beige paint (the original owners painted over hair and dust- eeeww!!) is going, the ceiling is being fixed, the list goes on forever, really. Thank god our own personal handy-man (Greg) can do all of it himself or we might be reconsidering replacing the roof instead! It would probably be cheaper! Oooooh, it's gonna be gooooood!

We bought a captain's bed for Ben and I'm going to paint it blue to match his new blue planes, trains & trucks themed room. I actually went out today and bought all the supplies to get started! The whole room is being built around this awesome border I bought from an online store (yes, eBay, I still dabble a little!) and I'm totally pshyched!

But - I know as soon as we're smack-dab in the middle of reno's, when we can see a light at the end of the tunnel, as soon as I'm dreaming of long bubble baths in my new bathtub, (*POP* my bubble just burst) a realtor is going to present us the offer of a lifetime for our property, and all of our hard work will be for nothing.

Honestly, a very small part of me hopes this will happen, but the rest of me truly hopes we'll be staying here for a few more years so Ben can go to the new school, continue to enjoy the yard, play in his new room and clean up in the new bathroom. Is this too much to ask? Is it too good to be true?

Seriously, though, I can't help but wonder if Murphy might have other plans...........

The things we do for love.....

No, I don't mean the song by 10CC, I mean what we won't do for our children.

We went away camping this past weekend (weather could have been a little better, but overall, a fun time was had by all) and on the last night, and probably the coldest, our main propane tank ran out of propane. No propane means no furnace in the camper. Which means c-c-c-old!

We always have 2 tanks at the ready, and Greg wanted to go outside and hook up the other one, but I said not to bother because it was after midnight for crying out loud. I couldn't ask him to get out of our warm bed and do that. Once we're asleep, we won't notice the cold I said. Remember - he offered.

NEWSFLASH: Hindsight is 20-20.

Being the somewhat paranoid parent that I am, and not afraid to admit to it, I decided that I should sleep on the lower bunk with Benjamin to keep him warm and to be there should (heaven forbid!) his covers inch their way off of him. He sleeps in the coldest part of the camper because we get the upper bunkhead.

So I crawled into bed with Ben but before I did, I had the forethought to layer up because the only blanket I had was this fleece thing that is so thin it doesn't deserve to be called fleece. I lay there in my thermal long sleeved shirt, my flannel pj bottoms tucked into my sox and my fleece camping jacket. At first I'm pretty warm and I'm thinking "this will be just fine". Benjamin is curled up warm under his quilt and hardly moves at all so not even his little feet will get cold.

About an hour goes by and I'm now thinking "um.....yah....it's a little chilly in here", so I tuck my feet into Greg's hoodie that is laying at the foot of the bed. Then around 3:30am I wake up almost completely numb from the waist down, except for an ache in my hips, legs and feet like I've never felt before, and shivering. Plus I have to pee. Like a racehorse. But I'm going to hold it because the cold air outside of my cocoon will surely make my body shatter and I can't really feel my feet anyway. What a conundrum I am in. So I just lay there, trying as hard as I could to take my mind off the fact that I have to pee, and hey - I could pee myself and not know it because I can't feel anything! This thought made me giggle to myself a little. I try to sleep, but of course my attempt is futile. I think about crawling back into bed with Greg who seems to be as snug as a bug in a rug to get warm (which I found out later that morning he was not) and to ask if he could go outside and change the tank. But I didn't want to admit that I was a wuss and couldn't handle the cold. So instead I reached around to find my little man, all toasty and warm in his own little cocoon, his sweet early morning breath stinkin' up the joint (or was that mine?!) sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that I have sacrificed sleep, the lower half of my body and my bladder to keep him warm. Confirmation that I am so in love with him washes over me and I just smile in the dark.

These really are the things we do for love.