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Saturday, 1 December 2012

Shoe Shopping.....basically Hell, but better style.

Soooooooo shoe shopping.....UGH.  Am I right??!?  Shoe shopping can be the single most frustrating event in the planet.  I adore shoes, and really really stupid expensive ones always fit me well, but try and find a decent pair for under $100 and it's torture.  I'd rather pull out all my toe nails one by one then try and do this sometimes.  Recently we were in Vancouver and on my wish list I had a pair of black boots suitable for work, and a pair of those cute new wedge sneakers.  So off we go....navigating all the shoe stores down Robson street.  I find varying possibilities of what I'm looking for but nothing is really quite right.  Finally I find ones that for the price, will work.  I try on the sneakers and they are a little too tight....I agonise over whether they'll stretch out or what.  The store is PACKED and it's "black Friday deals" all weekend and it's impossible to get in or out and so I give up and leave.  After trying every other shoe store in all of Vancouver, I decide the slightly too tight wedges will have to do.  So I find these shoes at a chain called Spring....which also there is a Call It Spring with the exact same stuff so there's basically two of these stores per block.  We head out to the metrotown mall and there are a few of these stores there so I hit up one and try the 8 on again....it's not going to work after all.  Okay, no problems, I'll just get the 9 and get an insole.  I try a 9...it's like, giant too big.  Frig.  Is there an 8.5?  Yes, in brown.  Ugh.  I try on the 8.5 in brown and it's PERFECT.  Okay, don't panic, there is another of these stores not too far away in the same mall, I know I need a 8.5 so it's under control.  We get lost and can't find the store....and can't find a directory anywhere.....we go round and round and the mall is packed and everyone is super annoying and in the way and why do couples holding hands walk so fucking slow when you're behind them trying to pass????  CAN SOMEONE RIDDLE ME THAT?!?  Anyways....also, fun fact....we had a croissant for breakfast and haven't eaten since and it's like after 6pm and we're grumpy so there's that tidbit of info.  So we finally figure out where we are going and find the store and I march in knowing exactly where the shoes are in the store....stomp half way into the store and stop on the spot.  There is a friggen LADY LYING ON THE FLOOR.  She has a blanket over her and an oxygen mask on and 2 paramedics talking to her and helping her and she is RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SHOES.  Just my luck.  I turn around and my mom, who hasn't see the lady yet, looks questioning.  It's all a bit confusing too cause there are people still shopping....all over the store....trying shoes on....acting like the lady is just taking a nap or something...on the floor.  I ask "what should I do??" and we stand there like morons for 10 minutes debating do we leave?  Do we shop like everyone else?  We decide I know what I want for size, I don't have to try them on, I can just get someone to grab them for me and get out of there.  So I find a guy who works there and while standing about a foot in the door to the store I gesture weakly towards the shoes beside the horizontal lady and say "um excuse me...I'd like the black on black wedge sneakers with the 3 velcro straps in a size 8.5 please" and he looks confused and walks over and points to like some flat sneakers with studs on them.  Seriously?  I know you work here buddy.....if there were studs on the ones I wanted, I'd have pointed that out!!  I point again....uhhhh, just over there, on the bottom right....the black ones with the wedge heel and velcro?  He walks over and picks up some brown loafers......again, SERIOUSLY???!!!  So I walk over a little closer and point....he's reaching over the ladies legs and randomly grabbing shoes and I'm trying to direct him No!  To the right!  No....those ones over there....SIGH and I march over and lean over the lady (cue lightning bolt!) and point dead onto the ones I want.  Ooooh he gets it now and says "oh this is the 8.5 here, the sample one.  I'll grab you the other from the back."  Great....perfect.  I go and stand beside the till....which is directly beside the lady...and I try not to stare but she looks like she's not going to die....and actually she's pretty young....and I stand there....and stand there.............and stand there.........................and stand there.....................and stand there.......................and finally a girl goes to help him............and stand there..............look at the lady..........smile weakly at her friend holding her hand...........and stand there........try not to stare..............and the girl comes back and says "I'm sorry.  We've lost the other shoe.  I can order you a pair?" and I want to scream and yell and stomp my feet because I was this close to having them.....but I realize, hey, there is a lady LAYING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR and I want to whine about a shoe??!!  So I just say a polite no thank you and rush out of there telling my mom I'm about to lose my shit and we have to leave right away.  Sigh.  Good effort.  I did later get up to a different store on Robson street again and get my shoes and late that night, trying to fall asleep after too many bottles of wine in the hotel bed across from my parents, my mom and I get the giggles about the poor woman laying on the floor.......between giggles and gasping for air my mom blurts out "maybe the other shoe was on her foot!?!?" and that's it....we're toast....laughing till we cry.  Don't get me wrong, I felt bad for that woman laying on the floor but if my blogs have taught you anything about me, it's that I can exhibit the completely wrong emotions for the situation.  Also, shoe shopping isn't for the weak.

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

This Months Blog Group.....Favourite Smell...and NO I didn't say wine. Surprised??

This months topic I found kinda funny because I actually have written a blog post before on the topic of smell.  It's something I obviously think about without prompting.  I find my sense of smell to be pretty keen and I probably have more smells that I dislike, then smells I like.  But, when I really think about this subject, I'd have to say my favourite smell is that of a newborn baby.  And I'm talking like that perfect moment when your newborn hasn't spit up all over the place and it hasn't been a week since either of you saw the bath/shower and it's hair is matted down with your armpit sweat from nursing all night long while laying down.....and the newborn doesn't smell like sour milk from all the times while nursing you doused and almost drown your baby when your milk came down and it's like the worst flood you've ever seen.....and the baby reels back surprised and pissed off and you wind up spraying down everything in a 5' radius.  Now that all describes what newborns smell like the majority of the time......but I'm talking that moment when none of this has happened and your baby smells sooooo sweet and faintly of baby shampoo and you could just sit there with your nose buried in it's little neck folds or on the top of it's head for days.  And your baby looks up at you with the cutest smile....and you know that smile can only mean one thing......and then your baby fills it's diaper and sweet time is over.  Why are babies so gross?  If you could bottle that perfect baby smell, and just like sniff it whenever you felt like leaving your baby on someone elses doorstep, I think that would be a clever idea.  And what is wrong with me?  All this talk of nursing and I swear my milk just let down.  Anyone need a wet nurse? 

Wonder what our other monthly members like smelling?  Check it out here....

Andes Cruz: http://www.andescruz.wordpress.com
pencilfox: www.pencilfox.com
Beth Cyr http://bcyrjewelry.blogspot.com
Barbara Donovan: http://barbaradonovan.blogspot.com/

Monday, 19 November 2012

How much does some good therapy cost these days?

Okay....I'm going to set up a little scenario.  Now, I'm not saying there is any truth to this at all....maybe it happened to a friend or cousin of mine...or maybe I saw it on TV....but hypothetically could someone guess how much therapy is going to cost me someone in the future?  Here goes....

What if your 3 year old son decided his new favourite "prize" was a tampon applicator?  And this son decided to pack it around for days everywhere he goes and even sleep with it?  On a scale from 1 to Britney Spears kids, how scarred is he going to be?  And maybe you have evidence of this happening on the cutest little video clip ever?  Just wondering....you know.....for a friend.

Fffiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeee you got me.  It's my son.  Yes, Lenny is packing around a green tampon applicator and him and it slept in our bed last night.  Now before you all start eww'ing and gross'ing can I just point out that IT'S CLEAN!!!!  AND UNUSED!!!  And no need to call social services on my ass!  This is what happened....it was all very innocent.....so I was trying to go to the bathroom ALONE, something that is a harder feat then spotting Big Foot, and Lenny was right beside me trying to stay and visit.  And it's that time of the month so I really wanted some privacy.  I was trying to shoo him out and he was getting ready to throw himself down crying and he spotted something in my hand.  It was a black wrapper of an unopened tampon.  I saw he spied it and was curious so I did what any mother would do....I threw it into the hallway, waited for him to chase it like a dog and then slammed and locked the bathroom door.  Brilliant right??  Upon coming out of the bathroom I see Barry filming Lenny and realize he's opened the tampon up and taken the white part out from the middle and is super happy going off about how it's his "prize" and it's "the bestest prize ever!!!" and showing Barry all the different things you can do with it.....so far that thing has been a horn, item that boings, needle, and finger hat amongst other things.  He hasn't let it out of his sweaty little hands.  And probably in a couple days, he'll find something new to play with, unused syringe or condom in a wrapper, and forget all about his favourite tampon prize.  But until then, is there any harm in letting him pack it around?  Just LOOK at this face!!!


Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Why did I have so many boys?

Oh hi there!  Yeah yeah yeah....it's been a while since I've written anything.  And it's been killing me, honest!!  But there is just NOT enough hours in the day for me to do everything I want, and some nights, the couch and a glass of wine kidnap me and render me helpless to do anything but try not to spill when I nod off.  So I thought I'd do a little kid update, because usually this is the first question people ask me......following close second is "are you getting younger?  you sure look like it!" and rounding up third is probably "what's your secret to being so amazing?" but first is usually about the kids.  My colourful classy kids!  So here goes...........

Kohen - Okay so no, I'm not going in order.  Well maybe I am....but it's not the order one would assume.  I'm starting with the kid who probably has the most to update on.  Why?  Because he's a train wreck, that's why.  So here goes.  Kohen, Kohen, Kohen.  Had our first teacher requested meeting a couple week ago.  Now most parents would be upset and shaking their heads about such a meeting but Barry and I were high fiving in the parking lot of the school that we made it 6 whole weeks into this year before such a request was made!  That's good time in Kohen's world!  He's also been to the principals office more times then we hear about I'm sure....and honestly, I never really know if it's because he is in trouble that much, or if he likes to hang out with Leanne the principal because she is gorgeous and sweet.  That boy does have a thing for blondes.  So apparently Kohen has been having a hard time with the new school....between that and the new sitter....and new teachers....and new friends....he's a bit of a disaster.  He's picked up some new language and is using it at every chance he gets (don't even say it!  You may think it but if one of you suggests the language comes from me then I will find you and fuck you up...I mean.....explain to you that it probably does not)...he's also made a couple new friends and one of them has language that makes even me blush so let's all blame the 7 year old.  He was grounded from his bike this summer too from a time when he rode it with Nicole and I while we ran......apparently the game is "see how close I can get to the white line on the road and stick my foot over the white line on the road whenever a car passes".  Neat hey?  So after Nicole yelled at him 294 times to get away from the white line and I yelled at him 28472 times, he continued choosing to not listen and rode right up and over the line and almost got creamed by a truck.  Bye bye bike!!  But it hasn't all been bad......the majority of weeks at school he does get at least equal "happy face to sad face" ratio from his teacher.  He also is doing really amazing in hockey this year and having a blast!  And he's befriended half the kids at the trailer park and is turning into some kind of creepy leader and I'm pretty sure they're building a space ship in my basement, he's also started making a lot of kool aid................no?  Too far? 

Gavin - Ah our new teenager.  What is it with 13 year old boys and BAM smelling like ass all the time?  Where's my sweet smelling baby??  I guess if he changed his clothes every now and again.....also, what's with that???  At least change the socks kid!  Gavin has now started at the high school...which I was terrified about....but he seems to really honestly enjoy it.  I think he really likes the bit of freedom and independence.  He was all excited he could walk to subway on his lunch....or him and The Geek Squad his friends walk to someones house at lunch hour....probably to geek out to some video games or something.  He still has his girlfriend....but we don't hear much about that....and I'm kind of okay with that!  He's getting really great grades in school....probably helps that every teacher he has is either a client of mine, or I know personally....so he was read the riot act upon starting school to be awesome or else I'd find out!  But I have a feeling this is the wrong kid to worry about.  He's such a funny guy....this year for Halloween he wanted to be a "bed sheet ghost"....so he leaves it till the very last minute (surprise surprise)...and then relies on his dad to go and buy him a white sheet from the thrift store....no wait, first he wanted to start cutting up my sheets and then when I said no, wondered aloud if Nana would let him cut up hers.  So in the end Kev goes to the thrift store and buys this like......cream colored table cloth material scrap of fabric....you know the type of table cloth material that like has that sheen to it?  Like silky almost?  And the fabric is so small that this thing barely covers him.  He was stoked on it, even though he looked like such a tool.  And for the first year, he chose to go out with his friends and not us.  We dropped him off downtown and picked him up a few hours later.  I worried that maybe they'd be screwing around and not trick or treating...which is probably what I would have done if it was me at his age...but no, he came home with the biggest bag of candy ever!  So it's safe to say they were actually going door to door.

Lenny - This kid has become a real jokester.  He's picking up words galore and using them every chance he gets....such beautiful catch phrases like "look here stupid!" and "Aaaaahhhh she's/he's/it's/we're/you/re DEAD!" and "Kohen!  You're a poo poo head!" so that's all been real fun and cute.  Honestly though, he's a really funny kid.  He's still pretty easy going and has started preschool this year.  Side note....one kid starting high school while one is starting preschool....boy we really didn't think that one through.  Where was I?  Oh right....preschool.  He LOVES school!  And most days I can find him standing by the front door in his pj's with his pink princess backpack on yelling "I'M GOING TO SCHOOL STUPID!" even if it's not a school day.  Such a little rascal!  He's in the same class as his older cousin Ethan and that's been a really cool thing to see the difference in them.  Ethan isn't a very big guy, but he's smart like Stewie and loves his music.  Now Lenny is a big ol'truck....smart like ummm...white bread?  If I could imagine what kind of smarts white bread would have....it would be like....simple smarts?  Yeah, white bread...what you see is what you get.  Not a ton of nutrition but it won't kill you to live off of?  Hmm....this analogy is a tough one this morning.  Moving on...............let's just say the kid can't count to 5 yet.  Well, I mean he can....hold up 5 fingers and he'll tell you "Oooonnnnneee.....twooooo......threeeeee......six, seven, nine!" and there you have it!  But I mean, at 3.5 years of age, who needs to know how to count to 5 right?  Another good example of the differences between him and his cousin......one day at school they had to glue pieces of colored macaroni pasta onto a piece of paper.  Now Ethan must have glued 294784628 onto his....the paper was bowing in the middle, strained under the weight of glue/pasta...you could hardly even see the paper underneath for all the intricately placed macaroni so that he could fit the maximum amount on there with them all just fitting into the curves of the other juuuuuust so, it must have taken him allllllll class to do......now Lenny came running out with his macaroni art paper.....there were literally 4 pieces of macaroni glued onto the giant sheet of paper.  Four.  I think that pretty much sums it all up.

So there you have a quick update of 3 of the 4 of my boys.  As for the other one and myself....yep, we're doing alright.  Busy and hectic and Barry is just waiting for me to go to Vancouver so he can put up the Christmas lights in peace without me yelling at him about being careful on the ladder.  It's for your own safety Barry!  YOUR SAFETY!!

Friday, 5 October 2012

The Apple doesn't fall far from the tree...especially when the tree is only 5'2"

So yesterday morning....this happened...

I'm running around the house frantically trying to find something to wear to work.....okay, now you're all shutting down.  Your eyes are moving over the words but you've stop reading them.  All of you are thinking "Shannon, yes, many a story from you have started this way.  We get it, you're a train wreck who hasn't learnt how to dress yourself.  BORED." but I promise you, this story gets better!  Well, sort of.  Great, now I've fluffed it right the fuck up and you're going to be let down.  Okay, it's okay...just take my hand, we can do this together.  Here goes....so yesterday, picture this (not to detailed okay?)....I'm running around my house, pants on (high waisted from american apparel...even as a half dressed train wreck, I'm on trend) and a blue leopard print bra and that's it.  I can't find a shirt to wear to save my life.  So perhaps there's one on the pool laundry table?  I run downstairs and I'm all over the place.  Lenny (new 3 year old...well, not new like we just found him at a bus stop somewhere but like newly turned 3 year old....why are you all so confused this morning??) is following me around whining about how he wants to go to schoooooooool!  He's got his back pack on and is dressed and shoes and coat and yes OKAY I see that my three year old is more organised then I am.  But in all fairness, does he need to put on makeup?  No?  Well drop it.  Lenny is on and on and on about let's go mom...blah blah school...we're late crazy lady....okay the last part I just made up but I'm sure he totally thought it.  I say "not yet Lenny!  Mommy is getting dressed!" and he of course argues "You ARE dressed!" which I guess to a three year old, who thinks running around butt naked most of the time, I did look pretty overdressed.  I continue "mommy needs to finish getting dressed...I need clothes on!" and Lenny marches on over to me, grabs my pant leg, looks me right in the face and says "Look here stupid!!" ............................ now here's the thing, every SINGLE person who I told that story to yesterday all said the same thing, "well, we sure know they're your kids Shannon"....every single one of them.  So my three year old calling me stupid is something that somehow shows a genetic trait?  Is swearing and going on like a trucker (sailor, roofer, hairdresser, city worker....whomever, I'm not prejudice) a genetic trait?  Can you be born with a swear gene?  My poor mother right at this moment is phoning me to give me the great lecture on how she NEVER swore when we were kids....which is true.  Actually, my dad didn't either.  I can still remember the moment as a kid when by accident I saw (not even heard) my dad swear and it was terrifying.  I was pretty young and could read (genius, I know...) and I came across a sign the band guys had made....and it was in my dads neat printing and said "If you're not in the band, don't fuck with the equipment" or something like that....and I was shocked and dismayed!!  This from my father!  As I got older and started hanging out with my dad a bit having some beers, I quickly learnt what kind of language he had.  And it was language saved for places like the bar, a group of guys, the studio, the golf course and I felt pretty cool that I was accepted enough to be a part of the secret swear club.  So okay, stupid isn't really a swear...but for a three year old, it's a pretty out there word!  And yes, he probably learnt it from me, I'll say that first and foremost....and yes, the seven year old has some choice language as well which OKAY MAYBE sort of came from me too......and I was thinking about my new years resolution for this year coming up (stop snickering) and I was thinking I should make it something that really will make a difference in our house and make the language skills improve and show my kids how to be calm and how to express themselves without having to turn to bad language....I think I'm going to try Valium.  Ha....just kidding....bet you thought I was going to say I'm going to stop swearing?  Fuck no.

Thursday, 27 September 2012

This snap show brought to you by our friend PMS.

I woke up this morning....and my eyes were pretty much glued shut.  They were swollen and sore and puffy in a way that only a couple hours of ugly crying can do.  Why ugly crying?  Well, let me tell ya a little story!  Now this story requires a little set up.....here goes.....it's that time of the month.  Okay?  Got the scenario?  Now for the snap show.  So yesterday, I wound up working late, which I don't usually do on Wednesdays, and that fact alone messed up my entire day.  All morning I thought I was going into Thursday....the clients I was imagining were my Thursdays clients, the time I started and finished were my Thursday times etc....so I show up for work and I'm actually on time!  Hooray!  I brag about this fact to Nicole, sit down and look at my schedule and realize I'm actually an hour early.  I don't start till 11.  Great, good start.  So I dick around for an hour until my day gets underway and all of a sudden I realize I forgot to bring myself any dinner (because I'm working late) and also any lunch....and my stomach is growling and apparently I've forgotten to eat breakfast too.  Huh.  Would have had time for that seeings how I was an HOUR EARLY.  So if anybody knows me, they know that lack of food makes me reaaalllllyyyy squirrly, and not in a good way....no cute little fluffy squirrel for me, no no no....I'm a rabid flying squirrel who is waiting to launch myself at your jugular and eat through your heart.  Lovely right?  So I'm mixing colour and Nicole says "why are you crying??" which I'm not....yet.....but apparently lack of food makes me super emotional too.  A bi-polar, rabid squirrel waiting to claw your eyes out.  Now throw PMS into the mix and WHOA man....shit just got serious.  So somehow I make it through my day, barely, and even manage to get to the gym, where I proceed to attempt some new stuff and realize I haven't been in a while and I'm sore and grumpy and ow.  Then I have to go from there to pick up Gavin from dance so I fly up, barely making it on time, to Turning Point at the other end of town, then back to work to close up and cash out and then off to home.  So I'm sweaty, stinky and sore from the gym.  A nice hot shower and bed!  I ask Barry if he bought toilet paper and toothpaste today, cause I had texted him that we were out in the morning.  Now, we've actually been squeezing empty toothpaste tubes for a few days....cutting the tops off and trying to scoop out every last little bit, always forgetting to buy a new tube somehow....never mind the fact that Barry works in a grocery store, so it's usually up to him to grab this stuff before coming home.  Barry says "didn't even cross my mind" and I get in a huff and say that I had texted it to him, along with lunch snacks...which he GOT....so if he got the text about lunch snacks, he got the one about toilet paper and toothpaste.  So now I'm even more grumpy.  I GUESS I'm going up to SAFEWAY (end of town I just came from) to get toothpaste because I would really LOVE to brush my teeth today or tomorrow.  I storm out and head on up to Safeway and it's like 9:30pm by the time I get there.  I'm tired, sore, grumpy and then I realize, I don't have a fucking quarter for the shopping carts.  Like seriously, a quarter is enough to guarantee someone isn't going to steal it??  I mean really, to me, .25 is a pretty good bargain for one of those shopping carts!  Think of everything you could haul around....empty wine bottles, full wine bottles, other liquor bottles...really, the possibilities are endless!  Mmmm....liquor.....wait, where was I?? RIGHT, so no quarter.  So there I am, carrying a giant, large, embarrassing amount of toilet paper (it was on sale) and 3 boxes of toothpaste (also on sale) and with every step dropping one of the boxes and having to pick it up while swearing, trying to get to the self checkout.  So I scan all my stuff through and the stupid self checkout is all "unexpected item blah blah" so I'm lifting things and trying to place them on the side and the lady has to come over and help me and I'm reaaaallllly annoyed and finally I can pay!  I dig through my purse.....no wallet.  What.  The.  Fuck.  So I ask the lady if she can hold my stuff, I obviously left my wallet in the car!  Yeah, that's it!  Halfway across the parking lot and the realisation that my wallet is in my gym bag at home and I looooooooooooooose it.  I start sobbing.  Like, my entire family was murdered by a rabid squirrel type sobbing.  I'm trying to get to my car before anyone sees me and I'm blinded by tears and kind of running in an awkward my ass hurts from too many squats at the gym way.  I get in the car and melt down.  I'm wearing a big sweater of Barry's so I'm using the sleeves to wipe at my eyes and nose, smearing mascara and snot and tears all over my face.  I manage to get control of myself enough to drive home, but I keep hiccuping sobs and having to wipe my eyes, making a giant mess.  I finally get home and don't even bother to compose myself.  I head straight up to bed and cry myself to sleep.  Over toothpaste and toilet paper?  Not really I suppose, but when PMS is in full force, what better reason is there to ugly cry for a couple hours?  This morning Barry made a very small attempt at a joke regarding leaving ones wallet, but I think the death glare scared him into silence.  Maybe tomorrow we can joke....maybe. 

Thursday, 6 September 2012

Real Men Wear Pink

Oh back to school.....so much to do!  We went through all the motions last week buying school supplies and a couple new outfits for the boys.....new gym shoes and backpacks.....which actually brings me to something here real quick like, backpacks.  Now, I always let the kids pick out their own.  And yeah, lots of times they aren't the most practical of back packs....why do they ones with the best Disney pictures have the LEAST amount of padding and pockets?  Just one big open compartment for everything to get mangled together...books squishing their lunches and that one corner ALWAYS ripping open eventually spilling pens and garbage on their walks home.  This year was no exception.  Kohen wanted this "Hockey Canada" backpack....and it had a horribly small one large compartment.  Gavin wasn't with us so I picked him out a very practical one, with tons of padding and lots of room for all the binders he's going to have to pack to high school.  All my practicality went to waste when he showed up after a trip to the states with my sister with a name brand backpack, smaller then Kohens.  And our dear boy Lenny, who's starting preschool this year gets a backpack too.  I bring down a couple Cars ones....do you want the red car or the tow truck?  He stands there debating in the way that only 2 year olds can....while holding his junk and ignoring you.  He scans the wall of backpacks in walmart and screams "THIS ONE!!!!!" while excitedly running over and grabbing the one he wants for school!  Instantly I have to put it on his back and he proudly goes running over to show Barry. 






Yes, this is the backpack that he picked out.  Why?  Cause it's pink....his absolute favorite color.  Barry and I stand there having a loud argument over letting him buy this one for school....mostly consisting of "you can't let him buy that!" "oh yes I can!" "no you can't!" over and over and over, both of us kind of laughing, but laughing in that way that's like "I dare you to make this a thing!".  In the end I shove the back pack into the cart explaining that this is going to be the only time in his life where he doesn't have to be "gender specific" and I'm not going to stifle him!  And for those of you early morning assholes who are now laughing cause I have three boys and this was my last chance at a girl....those assholes who remember that Lenny also has a large baby collection and a pink princess hair styling kit....I know who you are.  And when I see you next, I'm going to punch all of you because that fact has nothing to do with stifling my last male child's wants and letting him blur the gender lines and if he wants a princess backpack then mama's gonna get him a princess backpack!  Shut up.  SO MOVING ON (I didn't want a girl you know.....I'm happy with my boys......just saying.....) we get up to the check outs and unload our hundreds of dollars worth of back to school shit.  The lady is ringing it through and I'm making conversation with the people waiting behind us.  It takes like half hour to check us out and as the last of the items are going, I scan and count one backpack....two backpacks...........and that's it.  Where's Lennys?  No pink back pack already went through?  My eyes dart around the check out and there I spot a glimpse of a pink backpack sticking out from under a gum display at the beginning of the moving belt.  BARRY!!!!  I scold him and dig it out making a big display.  The couple I'm chatting with get awkward as we argue over our son having a pink back pack and we all just smile nervously at one another.  I'm glaring at Barry and he's laughing at me.  We head out to the car and I look down on the ground and somehow that backpack has managed to flip OUT of the shopping cart and is laying in the parking lot......for fuck sakes BARRY MOORE!  And finally all three backpacks are in the car and we can head home.  My mom sees the back pack and freaks out too.....he can't carry that to school!!!!  Which makes me even more determined that YES HE CAN!  I ask my sister, who's a teacher, and she says it's fine....I even go so far as to ask his preschool teacher, who also says it's FINE and possibly we'll start a trend!  Now just to pacify those who think it's a bad idea, yet keep the pink backpack for Lenny, I have altered it slightly and I think this works for everyone.....



Oh those princesses never looked better!!!

Wednesday, 5 September 2012

My Baby...yes I'll call you that till I die, get over it.

So today my baby is off to high school.  Even typing those letters causes my stomach to knot up and a lump to work it's way into my throat.  Yes, Gavin is now officially a teenager and going to high school.  How the fuck did that happen?  I mean, seriously??!!  Excuse the language so early in the morning but I think when one of your spawns that you expelled through your loins....forever leaving things in such a way that they never return from.....decides to become a fucking teenager and go off to high school....well, such language is a fucking must.  I want to say it just seems like yesterday and he was a baby....but it didn't really.  Things have been pretty busy since then.  But he's kind of been in a perpetual state of like, 8 or 9 to me.  Gavin was always a super bright, funny kid.  Right from the get go, we knew he had brains.  His dad would come home from work and get out a notebook and mark down all the new things Gavin was doing....his little brag book...asking all the while "do you think other kids are doing this yet?  Probably just Gavin!" to which I'd nod politely and agree....mostly because his dad was a bit of an egotistical moron at times (love you Kev) and it was just easier to agree, but I did know that Gavin was going to really be something special.  And yes, of course all parents say that about their kids, is what you are thinking right now.   But no!  No, that's not true.  Take Lenny for example....our third baby boy....I am the first person to admit that that kid isn't the brightest light in the room!  Now now, don't get all up in a huff!  I can hear my sister now "Shannnnnnnnon!", but it's true.  I mean, this kid has more personality then any grown person I've met, never mind 2 almost 3 year old, but sheesh, he's lacking a bit in the smarts.  Take for example, gravity.  Yes, a little difficult to figure out?  Gravity is forever Lenny's worst enemy.  He regularly throws things up into the air, hard as can be.....metal things, trucks, books, toys......only to watch them fall right back down again and smash into his face.  Note the word "regularly"....and he's just as shocked and surprised every time that this item has caused him pain.  Yet, one day in the not so far away future, he will do it again...and again.  And maybe by the time he's 5, he will learn NOT to do it....but we'll see!  Just like flapping his little arms....Lenny, it doesn't matter how hard you flap those suckers, they will not carry you from your perch on the coffee table to the couch when you launch yourself towards it face first. Then there's our middle kid, brains galore!  Yet, we only get glimpses of the genius inside....usually sandwiched between two demonic acts.....hey mom!  Sacrificed the neighbours cat!  Oh and I figured out how to read Latin.......DROVE THE CAR INTO THE POOL!!!  So we don't always notice his smarts so much.  But Gavin and I have always had a bit of a "different" relationship, and I think it's because it was just him and I for a bit after me and his dad split up.  That mixed with the fact that even at 2 years of age, I could sit and hold a completely intellectual conversation with him.  I had a friend comment one time that we're more like siblings sometimes, which I suppose is probably true.  I trust him and know that he's developing into a decent, lovely, polite, smart human being.  So high school shouldn't be so scary. For the others, I pushed three boys into this world, the least I can do is hope for two of them to become decent men.....right?  I mean, I'm sure Kohen will get his fair share of fan mail from those creeper women who love writing letters to prison inmates!  Haha kidding (?)!

Monday, 20 August 2012

Monthly Blog Group.....What I LOVE About Summer

Ahhhhhhh summer!  That sneaky little whore.  She shows up late, and already is showing signs of leaving the party early.  There's lots of things I adore about her.....but mostly, my FAVORITE thing about summer is NOT having to get my kids up for school in the mornings!  School mornings are hell.  I am not a morning person anyways so those days when I have to get them up and out the door at some ungodly hour like, 7am 4am or whatever time it may be....and it's still night time practically and I have to get out of my warm comfy bed.....it's not pleasant.  Gavin is just like me and I have to beat him out of bed, while Kohen has been up with the birds and already causing trouble and picking on everyone before we've even had a chance to have our coffee.  Then I have to try and get them fed....which is always a chore.  The options from day to day don't really change much; frozen waffles, toast, cereal, oatmeal.....yet every day I have to go through the entire list several times before they settle on the same friggen thing they eat every day.  Two bites in and it's time to brush their teeth because I hit snooze too many times they're really slow moving and that brings on a battle.  Most days I whip out the ol'mom trick "bring me your toothbrush so I can see if it's wet!" and of course it's wet, they ran it under water but didn't actually brush so it's a stupid thing that every parent does.  Now it's really fun when it's time to get back packs ready to go and shoes on.  Why does one shoe go missing every time?  Just one.  Like one shoe got taken off at the door, and then they wandered around for a while and took the other one off days later at some random part of the house, like under a cabinet or behind the curtain or something.  Oh and I almost forgot....LUNCHES!  I HATE making lunches!  Nobody likes the same things.....pb&j sandwiches it is, 365 days a year then!  You don't like it?  Make your own stupid lunches!  Annnnnd great, the bus is due to arrive in 4 minutes and they're still looking for a missing shoe.  I finally get them out the door and am yelling at them to RUUNNNNNN for goodness sakes RUUUNNNN cause if they miss the bus, I'm gonna snap show.  Sigh........the back to school countdown is on and it makes me sad.....summer, stay a little longer okay?

Please check out what my fellow bloggers love most about summer...
Andes Cruz: http://
www.andescruz.wordpress.com
Kathleen Krucoff: http://
mysticalmythicalmetalwork.wordpress.com/
Barbara Donovan: http://
barbaradonovan.blogspot.com/
Beth Cyr: http://
bcyrjewelry.blogspot.com
Robyn Hawk: http://flyviewsandreviews.blogspot.com/

Sunday, 19 August 2012

Seriously, 2 year olds....and i'm not just being dramatic.

Lenny is almost 3....and luckily, we never really experienced the "terrible twos" with him.  But as we approach three, it's like a switch went off and WHAT THE FUCK he's into everything.  The worst part about it is, he's one of those quiet trouble makers.  He's a ninja of mass destruction.  So the other morning, I'm in the shower upstairs and Barry is downstairs in the kitchen on his laptop doing some work.  I get out of the shower, go and get dressed and head back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  On the way out I step in something wet and slippery...and white and kind of frothy.  It's like a spray across the floor.  Now everyone please get their head out of the gutter.....I know I tend to post inappropriate things, but seeing how this is about my two year old, let's not go there.  Ha!  You all went there didn't you??  It's okay...I did too.  Moving on....instantly I'm like "LENNY??!!" and Barry yells that he's downstairs.  Hmm...strange but okay!  I finish up upstairs and head on down and realize that every wooden tread of every step on my staircase is also covered in a white spray....as well as my duvet and duvet cover that are hanging on the railing.  What the heck?? So I keep going......and Jesus Jones it's EVERYWHERE.  The hard wood floors leading into the living room.....the couch.....the coffee table....the side tables.....the kitchen floors.....the cupboards.....a stool in the kitchen....a bunch of shoes......the dining room floor.....a nice white splat on the back of every fabric chair in my dining room......the walls......I'm running room to room at that point, tears welling up realizing it's absolutely on every surface and every item in my entire house.  Kohen runs up to his room and yells down "IT'S ON MY BED AND ALL MY POKEMON CARDS AND MY TOYS!  AND A PICTURE I DREW THAT WAS MY FAVORITE PICTURE...LIKE....IN SCHOOOOOOOOOOL!" and Lenny meekly comes into the kitchen and says "it's okay!  I put it back!" and I realize that he's tagged my entire house with SPF 60, waterproof sunscreen in a spray can.  Now can I please emphasise the word waterproof.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean waterproof sunscreen off of every item in your house??  I tried wiping up the kitchen floor which only made it smeared and shiny and slippery and overall worse...looking at the clock realizing I still had no makeup on and it's 9:20am and I have to leave in 10 minutes and I just start crying.  Barry takes over cleaning up and shoo's me away to get ready.  Now this all wouldn't have seemed so destructive if the night before Lenny hadn't dumped an entire jumbo size can of chocolate milk powder all over the kitchen floor.  The day of the sunscreen, I get a text from Barry, who's at home with the darling children while I'm at work;

Barry - Lenny just dumped half a jug of milk all over the kitchen floor.  I'm going to lose it.

We're still finding places that little ninja tagged a couple days later....dry crusty white puddles of sunscreen.  The only method of removing them at this point......a spatula.  But if I move the plants around juuuuuust so, I can cover them up alright!  Out of sight....out of mind!  Wait....where's Lenny??

Friday, 20 July 2012

Favorite Time Of Day...this months blog group topic!

This one blog topic answer is probably a given.....I'm sure if I were to ask out loud "what is Shannon Koochins favourite time of the day?" that every single person in the room would yell out the same answer...let's try, just for fun......ready??  I'll give you a sec to clear your throat...maybe a sip of water?  Some vocal exercises?  Miii miii miii miiiiiiiiii.....okay annnnnnnd here goes.....

What is Shannon Koochin's favorite time of day??  All together now.....

WINE'O CLOCK!!!

Yay!  You all did so good!  I'm so proud of each and every one of my little groupie wino's!  Leave me your email and I'll send each and every one of you a personalised compliment saying how great you seriously are!

So yes, it's true....my favourite time of day is indeed wine'o clock.  Now for those of you who are maybe a little more in the closet with their drinking, or maybe you prefer something other then wine, I'll explain what exactly time of day that is.....now here's the beauty of it.....wine'o clock is whatever the fuck time you deem it to be!  8am?  SURE!  10pm?  Well OKAY!!!  Or perhaps one of my favourite wine'o clock memories in recent history, it was around midnight.  Me and Nicole were on our trip to Kelowna and were attempting to drink off slight hangovers and major sleep deprivation alllllll day long.  It was slow moving.  We started with an early lunch and sangria...we went out for dinner, continued to attempt to drink it away....even going for drinks after dinner....it wasn't happening.  We decided it was time to head back to the hotel to go to sleep.  Upon getting into bed, we decided a glass of wine might be in order and that one glass at that exact wine'o clock was the one that cured everything!  We were hilarious....laughing and joking and drinking boxed wine till who even knows what time!  Occasionally one of us would put their glass down and perhaps close their eyes for a moment and the other would ask "another glass?" and the answer was always "Yeah!  Heck yeah!" and it continued. 

So you see, wine'o clock is a pretty flexible time of day....but whenever it rolls around, hands down, it's my favourite!!


Please check out these other fellow bloggers and their favourite time of day...
Andes cruz: http://www.andescruz.wordpress.com
pencilfox marie: www.pencilfox.comTosca Teran: http://nanopod.me/
Wendy Kelly: http://www.wendykianakelly.com
Robyn Hawk: http://flyviewsandreviews.blogspot.com/
Shannon yeah yeah okay Koochin: http://thebassplayersdaughter.blogspot.ca
Beth Cyr: http://bcyrjewelry.blogspot.com
Barbara Donovan: http://barbaradonovan.blogspot.com/

Sunday, 1 July 2012

Welcome to my freak show.


After all the sharing of my dad's mini freak outs....I decided I should probably post another of my own. I know you're all gasping and probably fainting to hear that I have freak outs....because gosh, I'm so mild mannered and calm and collected....but yes, get the smelling salts handy cause it's true. I would like to blame having three boys for the insanity that is my life, but sadly, lots of it is just me.


So let's remember, back to May and all the crazy busyness that was my life....work, Gill moving, the kids getting anxious for summer, grad etc etc etc. Me and Nicole had a road trip/work trip planned for the first weekend in June and we were LOOKING FORWARD TO IT like you have no idea. We were planning to shop and eat out and dance and see Gill and shop and drink wine and drink and eat and shop and that was pretty much the to do list....all ending with a class on a new fun trendy hair color technique. So May just seemed never ending and finally it was the weekend we were leaving. We were giddy.....stupid funny and laughing at everything all week one second and then randomly bursting into tears the next second. Stress will do that too you! Along with not eating well because of the hectic pace and drinking too much beer after work for the same reason. FINALLY it was Saturday, the day we were leaving. It was also sunfest weekend here in town so I had said I’d take my kids to the parade and then we'd leave after that. Well we wake up on Saturday and I have 29472947 things to do because I haven't had time before hand and I have laundry and packing and had put off washing my hair and shaving the pits and the parade started around 11 and I was running around like crazy. The kids were all excited for the parade and they were running around picking at each other and trashing the house. We were right in the middle of potty training and Lenny was peeing on things and really had to go #2 but was scared to so he'd been holding back for a few days and now he was crying his bum hurt and following me around with a diaper, asking to have it put on. It was chaos. So I finally get us ready enough that we can go to the parade and I'm yelling at the kids cause they're all over the place and I’ve got Lenny on the toilet and I’m begging....bribing...pleading with him to just please try.....and he's crying and screaming ow and holding on for dear life. My mom shows up to help out and I'm in tears at that point because how can I take Lenny out of the house like this without going to the washroom to stand on the side of the road somewhere? And the boys are crying cause they're watching the clock and are convinced the parade is over. I'm yelling "THAT'S IT! WE'RE NOT GOING!!" and the kids are screaming "NOOOOO" and crying and thankfully my mom suggests I take the older boys and she will stay with Lenny on the potty. FINE. I rush around some more trying to find coats (is that rain on the horizon?) and bags for candy and the boys are antsy and Lenny is crying and I just want to get in the car and drive to Kelowna and never come back. So we finally get out to the van and its soooooo late and I know the road is closed where the parade is so we're going to have to find parking (good luck) and navigate all the crazy traffic and stupid back roads and I'm dreading it. The boys are yelling at me to hurry up and so we all pile into the minivan and I throw it into reverse and gun it and CRUNCH SMASH DRAAAGGGGG. Okay, now here's the part...the language is about to get crazy....and yes, my kids witnessed it too and I did apologize, I think....or I bought them something, cause that's the same thing right?? So CRUNCH SMASH DRRAAAGGGGG and I'm like "what the fuck was that?!!??"....now anyone who's ever pulled up to my driveway knows at any given time there's like 3 bikes and 4 ride on cars and 294729 toys scattered all over....so I whip the van into park and start going off "WHY DON'T YOU KIDS EVER PICK UP YOUR TOYS!!! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THEM ALL OVER THE FUCKING DRIVEWAY?!?!" and I run around the back of the van and I’ve ran over and smashed 3 mini plastic deck chairs. So like any person in the middle of a freak out I continue yelling obscenities "JESUS CHRIST...STUPID TOYS....FUCKING CHAIRS" etc as I use my foot to move, aka kick frantically, the broken pieces of chair all over the place. Then the beauty part was I cut my toe on one of the sharp edges, which only causes me to swear and kick harder and more spazoid like. I get them all out of the way and get back in the van and look at my kids horrified faces....which only makes me madder cause I’m being a total jerk and I know it.....



Me - "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LEAVING YOUR SHIT BEHIND THE VEHICLES?"

Koh - *quiet voice* Nana told us to get some chairs to bring to sit on and watch the parade and I couldn't open the back.

Me - .......................................................................



And I look up and the window to the bathroom is open and my mom is sitting in there with Lenny and obviously heard the whole thing too. Sigh. So off we go to the parade......I try and make sure each kid gets the largest bag of candy ever, even pushing other slower kids out of the way because that's how you show your kids that you realize you've been a total asshole, right??


Sunday, 17 June 2012

A Father's Day post for The Bass Player

It's only fitting that today I blog about my dad.  Yes, it's Fathers Day, and also, he gave me my name....The Bass Player's Daughter.  It's the name of my salon and anything else I do these days....my identity.  I thought I'd share some of my "fondest" Bass Player memories.....but first, a quick description of my dad.  Now, my dad is a bit of a mish mash of things.  He's amazingly funny, personable and outgoing.  People meet him and instantly want to be his friend and he makes friends with anyone and everyone, remembering their names, loaning them money or buying them a beer.  He's a very talented musician and adores time spent in his studio working on a song.  At the same time, my dad is also quick to temper and a bit of a hot head.  He'll go out and charm the pants off anyone, but will come home exhausted from being so social all the time and stick us with a miserable grump.  All though these days, we can usually get him out of that grump status because we're not scared of him anymore, now that we're adults.  My dad is also comparable to a 15 year old child....a bit of a spoiled rotten brat who sometimes forgets he's not the centre of the universe.  Now, anyone who knows me, or reads my blog knows that I'm only comfortable saying these things about him because I share most of these same traits....minus the musician part but these traits I can pick out in myself and therefore feel I'm allowed to pick them out in him too.  Growing up with my dad was interesting.  He played in a band and was gone many nights a week.....he also had a day job and then had to nap in there somewhere so we didn't spend a ton of time with him growing up.  Lucky for us, and him, we have an amazing lady at the head of our household who was always patient and kind and gave up her entire life for us to make sure we got the best childhood possible.  Sometimes we share stories now and wonder how in the world did we all make it through those years together....but here we all are, still in love with each other and friends and able to spend many evenings together and enjoy it.  So a few of my favourite Dad stories....we enjoy telling these over dinner, knowing it pisses my dad off....he can be a bit embarrassed by his quick temper while we were growing up but it left us with some great conversation starters.

Okay so I was maybe 10?  We were eating dinner.  Ketchup came in glass bottles and was forever getting stuck and not pouring out.  I was trying to shake the bottle upside down over my plate to get the ketchup out and was getting a bit wild with it.  It kept hitting my plate "ding....ding....ding....DING...DING..DING DINGDINGDINGDING..." and finally my Dad (who worked basically two jobs and didn't sleep much remember?) SNAPPED, as he was famous for doing and go figure with 3 kids all within 5 years apart.  He stood up and literally grabbed the bottle out of my hand and violently started shaking it as hard as he could up and down in a HUGE exaggerated motion...all the while yelling "THAT'S NOT HOW YOU GET THE KETCHUP OUT!  THIS IS HOW YOU GET THE KETCHUP OUT!" and ketchup was flyyyyyyyying all over me, the table, the floor (carpet in the kitchen back in those days) until he finally smashed the bottle down on the table and stormed off.  We all sat in silence for a few minutes...shocked at his outburst until someone must have caught a glimpse of me, covered in ketchup and started giggling.  Well that was it, we all roared with laughter......and were careful never to bang the bottle on our plates again.

It's Christmas....the most wonderful time of the year.  Us kids are fairly young and hopped right the fuck up with Christmas spirit and sugar and presents and Santa and are hyper beyond belief.  We're vibrating trying to decorate the tree, which is always a headache of an occasion.  First my dad has to get the thing in the stand....and that's usually accompanied by tons of swearing at the stand and it's crooked and my mom lovingly suggesting we turn the tree to a less bare spot and my dad whipping this thing around until finally we all just agree with him, sharing silent glances, knowing we'll spin it while he's at work.  Then my dad gets the joyous job of putting up the xmas tree lights....which are all bundled in a messy ball from where he got pissed off and just randomly shoved them into garbage bags the year before...then plugging them in and trying to find the one burnt out bulb that's making the entire string dark and my mother lovingly suggesting he "scallop" the lights a little more and not skimp in the back where the neighbours can see through the window.  By the time this is all done, my dad needs a good stiff drink and he's snapping at all us kids, who are completely underfoot and annoying.  Then we have to be patient while my mom puts the garland on juuuuust so before we're let loose with Christmas ornaments and allowed to decorate the tree.  This all takes a gooood long time and by the end of it we're all grumpy and fighting but OH doesn't the tree look gorgeous!  We turn out the lights and sit around the glowing Christmas tree drinking egg nog and listening to Christmas music.  This one year we had done the tree and I had gone to my room to do something else when I heard screaming and came running out.  Somehow our tree had fallen over....after all that work decorating it!  Our beautiful tree was laying in our living room, the stand spilling water all over our carpet and my siblings all crying.  My dad by that point, had had it.  He ran in the living room and flung open the door to the outside front yard.....he marched over to the tree, picked it up and hauled it like a twig to the door and THREW it on the front snow covered yard....which wouldn't have been soooo bad but at the same time he yelled "MERRRRRRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS" for all our neighbours to hear.  The poor guy spun around, slammed the door and was met with three kids standing there sobbing over our Christmas tree and the shock of hearing him say such things.  The next day the tree was back up, with a stand full of rocks, and we never let him forget it.

So that's a couple of my favourite Phil stories.....at the same time, we also have great memories and laugh till our sides hurt thanks to him...like the time he rode Kohens hot wheels jeep home with his knees up at his ears and his feet on the hood all down Broadwater Road.  Or the time Lenny handed my dad the inside part of his little training potty, complete with a giant turd in it to show off his accomplishment...and my poor dad didn't catch on quick enough and grabbed the pot and had a good long look at it before looking up at me and my mom in all seriousness and asking "is this shit?" causing us to fall out of our chairs in laughter.  I think we could all get together and share stories of my dad and probably write a best selling book because I know many people would have things to contribute, good maybe, bad maybe and I bet a heck of a lot that we've never even heard about.  If you run into my dad one day, be sure to ask him about the pot brownies at work, that's another story that's quite hilarious, but I'll leave that one to him.  Happy Fathers Day ya asshole...I love you.

Monday, 11 June 2012

"This does not bode well for your tattoo" says Mom.

So I might be ready to share this story now.  Might.  I didn't think I was, but as my mom was telling it to my dad last night and laughing till she cried (it's not even a funny story), I found my self chuckling along.  This story took place the last week in May.  Now, May for me is insane.  Work is insane, the kids start getting excited for summer and antsy and my husband starts obsessing over the opening of the pool.  May is one of the busier months at the salon too....with our graduation and Miss Castlegar events, there's a heck of a lot of hair to get did.  I always feel like May starts and it's already pretty much over so just head down and plow through...which makes for a really stressful month.  I was working tons and lots of late nights....as were all the girls at the shop and we were all feeling the stress, sleeping less, drinking more and inventing lots of new swear words.  So this one day in May, Barry comes in the house in the early morning to tell me about a injured crow he found in the back yard.  It was over by the pool fence and couldn't fly.  It's wings and along it's back were pretty mangled.  It's pissing rain out, and cold and it's huddled in the yard.  Barry tried to catch it, but it half hop/fly/spazzed away.  I know most people dislike the crows around here....they are a bit of a pain in the ass....but I love them and have my favorites around the yard......and yes, I do come from a long line of family crow lovers, just talk to my mom Val the Crazy Bird Lady (kidding...sort of.....we're giving her 5.4 more years before we officially give her that title).  So instantly I'm upset by this news.  I call my mom (the Crazy Bird Lady.....just testing it out....) and she instructs me to get a box, cut a door and some windows....craft glue on some nice curtains, no like cheap roller blinds...maybe a nice tile for the floor and paint on some shingles.....hahaha.....no she didn't go that far, but I know she was thinking it.  She told me to cut a couple openings and put it over the crow outside and give it a bowl of water....maybe a plastic garbage bag on top so the box doesn't get soggy (pissing rain).  I'm running late for work and I'm panicked and I have nothing to wear and now I'm worried about this bird.  I manage to get ready in time and I get my box etc and head out into the yard to find it.....and it's totally gone.  I search all the bushes around the area it was, and okay, maybe I was making kissy noises or whatever that universal noise is people make to all animals.  Nothing.  I head into the neighbours field behind us, searching in in the long grass with my diaper box and bowl of water. So I can hear this really obnoxious crow noise from low down in this big tree and I think maybe the crow managed to half hop/fly/spazz up into this tree.  Okay great.  Off to work.  In my blue minivan and I'm heading down the driveway....when all of a sudden this black thing comes half hopping, half flying, completely spazzing towards me out from under a row of trees.  I scream and drive my van up the side of the neighbours yard along our driveway and almost take out their fence trying to avoid this zombie crow who looks like just threw itself in front of my van.  I can't tell but I think I hit it.  I put the van in park and sit there chanting "Ohhh no.  Ohhhhhhh no.  Ohhhhhhhhh no" for a while, looking in my rear view mirror at a very compact looking black blob a bit up the driveway.  I'm close to hyperventilating....I mean, I was going to save this bird....and now could I have killed it??  I get out and walk up the driveway and sure enough, it's flat.  I completely smoked the thing and squashed it under my tire....dead on (literally).  I instantly start crying my head off.  Now, I'm not like quietly shedding a few tears...I'm full out SOBBING....complete with all the noises, snot and tears you could imagine when someone just murdered a living thing.  MURDERED!  I get in my van and call my mom (everyone now....1....2.....3......the crazy bird lady) and sob my way through the story.  She's upset too cause she loves birds but does a good job trying to reason with me......at least I put it out of it's misery, it probably wouldn't have survived anyways, way to smoosh it full out and not just further mangle it and at the end she throws in a quiet "this does not bode well for you tattoo"...thanks MOM.  I get off the phone with her and sob all the way to work.  The rest of the day followed appropriately for a day that started out with killing.  The girls at work lovingly prodded me about it and managed to only set me off crying once or twice.  I shared the story a few times that day and yes, I cried every time.  I think I cried all that week now I think of it....some of it over the bird, and some of it cause May is such a cold hearted bitch.  And yeah, I guess it was probably best I ran it over, it was quick and painless....or so I hope...I mean, do any of us really know if that stuff would be painless or not?  Who are we going to ask?  The smooshed thing from under the tire?  And what does it all mean anyways?  Do you think this bird committed suicide?  While I have you here, what's the meaning of life do you think????? 

Thursday, 31 May 2012

Pe-naus....if I say it all fancy like, does it make it fancier?

What is it with little boys and their junk??  And by junk, of course I mean their goalies.  Oh, and by goalies, of course I mean dongs.  What are dongs?  Well, I'm trying to say their wiener.  Wiener and balls to be exact...put them together, and voila!  Their junk.  So again, what the heck?  It's like, a handle or something....better hang on for dear life in case it decides to up and fall off!  Like yesterday for example, we're potty training the youngest (okay so he's old enough that he should be potty trained already but life is just so busy....and why do I feel the need to justify my non-potty trained 2.5 year old to you anyways?  Thanks alot "society" you filthy two faced whore, he could be in diapers till he's seven and that's my business and not anybody elses....well, mine and social services because I'm sure his grade 2 teacher would have them knocking on our door.....sigh....this is probably another blog post all in it's self so I'm just gonna drop it and back away slowly...okay?  Ready....one....two......three!) potty training the youngest and so he's running around, all free ballin it....flapping in the breeze, attempting to slide down the plastic slide....which sounds as painful as I'm sure it must feel.  And every few seconds he's gotta reach on down and give it a little tug....or cup it and hang on to it while making directing eye contact...just long enough to be awkward.  I mean, he's young enough, it's not horrific to see his little dingle dangling.....but there are things to be on the watch for.  Like yesterday, I send Gill to my house to drop off some stuff and she comes back to the shop and tells me Lenny is running around naked.....and eating chips.....and SHARING chips....which seconds after she ate, the ol hand went back down to his junk to give it a loving tug and you KNOW that chip you just ate, was covered in penis.  Over dinner, my mom shared such a story too....her moment of realization after eating a few chips out of his hand.....that second you know you've eaten a chip that touched a toddlers schlong in a round about way...and I mean, those hands are all up and on that junk!  Anybody with boys knows what I'm talking about.  Such an early fascination with that thing.....it's like he's already making peace with the fact that it will be making the majority of his decisions for him during "those" years in his future.  He just needs to make sure it hangs in there, and doesn't get lost anywhere.  And I mean really, there is nothing cuter then having him hop up on your lap and his cuuuuuute little butt cheeks dimple all up on your leg....and then you feel the ball sack settling in on the front and the cute factor drops a notch.  But in the end, during this potty training phase, it's just one of those things we have to endure...I mean, yesterday he peed in the potty ALL day long for the babysitter....and my mom came and relieved her and he peed in the proper places for her too........until five minutes before I'm due to arrive home.  I'm leaving the shop and we have this conversation via text....

me - Will be laving in 5.  Have to stop and get wine Bary said.
Mom - Your child just shit outside, and down his leg, and ya he stepped in it.  I'm having wine alone now, no guilt.

..........so then there's that.  No amount of junk pulling can distract you from that.  So I get home just in time to pick up little turds dropped all along the walk way......and just in time to witness Kohen ride a scooter through one of them...on purpose I think.....and continue riding it along the rest of the driveway.  OH BOYS and your junk.....at least when they're holding on to it, their hands aren't free to cause much other trouble I suppose.....or at least in this house of four junk holders and me, I can only dare to hope.

Tuesday, 22 May 2012

This one time at Catholic church.....

So I don't know if you guys know this about me....but one time, I used to go to church.  I'm talking the Catholic church!  I'd go once a week, sometimes twice and spend anywhere from two to four hours there....in the hall, church and the fathers house.  Now I know it's early, and I'm sure lots of you have headed to get more coffee because you're pretty sure you aren't reading this right, thinking what the H E double hockey sticks is Shannon Koochin doing at church!?!?  So let me finish my story....I used to clean the church, hall and fathers house....OH and his motor home but that's another story.  When Gavin was a year old or so I did a stint as a cleaning lady.  I didn't mind the job....it was quiet, nobody bugged me and I could just crank my tunes and go.  I also didn't mind cleaning the hall at the church, or even the fathers house.....all tho.....I used to have to change his bedding and do the shower, and he was as bald as a cue ball and whenever I'd see like a hair I'd instantly think ungodly thoughts as to where they might have come from and yes I know I'm going straight to hell and really can't believe I just shared that with all of you.  I'm sorry I'm a horrible person and please pray for my children.  Anyways......out of the gutter Shannon for petes sake.......really the safest thing would be to just sign off and stop writing now, but we all know me!  I'll just plow on and see how many more times I can sound like a moron!  Okay and here we go!!  So back to the random hairs...NO WAIT.....I mean, back to the CLEANING.......yes, cleaning....I used to clean all sorts of strange areas at the church....including this scary basement area that kind of connected the church with the fathers place....and always had bugs and strange rooms all painted different shades of bright ugly colors.  But I didn't even mind the basement....what REALLY creeped me out was cleaning in the actual church.  I get the heeeeebie jeeeeeebies just walking in there, never mind the fact that I was alone.  There was a few back rooms and some strange areas....I used to actually like cleaning in the confessional booths, always muttering my worst things under my breath pretending I was confessing, but really if there was another person on the other side they would have probably put me in a straight jacket and sent me off, or called my mother to beat me with a wooden spoon.  Cleaning in the main open area, around all the pews was the scariest for me.....especially having to get up on the podium at the front to vacuum while statues of Jesus and others would stare at me.....and I could tell they were all judging me and my relationship with Kevan and our bastard child.  I'd make up little conversations in my mind with them and for some reason my inner Jesus voice always sounded like he was right from Monty Python.  I'd have to run this big ol vacuum cleaner in that quiet cave of a place and it would echo off the vaulted ceiling and stained glass and make it even spookier then it was.  So this one time, I was in there vacuuming and it was a pain in the ass because I'd have to unplug the vacuum like 912374 times to get around all the pews and replug it in and I swear that took longer then the actual job.  So I'm muttering to myself, and go to plug the vacuum in again and ZZZAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!!!!  I'm super confused and can't figure out why I'm laying down all of a sudden and I can smell burning.  I come to my senses and realize I'm laying about 2 feet away from the wall socket with the plug to the vacuum still in my hand and my hand is burning and there's black smoke all up the wall around the outlet and I vaguely remember seeing blue flames.  Awesome.  I was just electrocuted.  IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.  All of this took just a second and while I'm still stunned I see the Father come in cause he heard a loud explosion noise and he sees me and realizes what's happened and I must have looked totally surprised and he starts to laugh.....and laugh......and laugh!!  Now, anybody who knew him knows he was a pretty funny guy.  I actually really liked him....he used to love to tell me religious jokes....and then he'd laugh at the fact that I wouldn't understand the punch lines.....like I'm talking laugh until tears came rolling down his face and he was gasping for air.  Anyways, that's pretty much what he looked like as I lay on the floor of the church, still vibrating with electric currants.....he doubled over and grabbed his belly and between laughing bouts manages to get out "GIRL!  You need to find some faith!!!" and I yeah yeah yeah and tell him I'm going to the hospital to have my hand looked at and stomp out of there.  But as I leave....and the sun is shining and I realize I'm done work early for the day and don't have to vacuum in that place that makes me so uncomfortable it's kind of like the right thing to have happened.  And I know the Catholic Church isn't a place for me!  And for those who have been attending safely without getting electrocuted, it's probably the perfect place for you and just stay away from the one outlet on the far right wall with the black soot stains around it. 

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

THEY'RE MIIINNNEEEEE

OHMYGODEVERYONE guess what?!!?!?!?!?!  I ordered my fluevogs.  Yes, the DREAM ones!  Of course, I probably should have ordered the practical I can wear to work ones, but you know what?  I didn't, so fuck off.  I can be practical when I'm dead (that's how the saying goes right?).  So I have to say THANK YOU to my Fluevog Angel who made my dreams come true!  He bought me the "unicorn" if you will (well, I didn't even have the brains to come up with that one.....but when I was whining about accepting a gift as glorious as Fluevogs, some other poet came up with that terminology and I enjoyed it.....as in, those boots are like a unicorn, you'll never get them otherwise).  WHERE THE HECK WAS I....ooohhh right....my Fluevog Angel, or FA as I'm going to call it from now on cause I get distracted easily and every time I spell Angel I want to put Angle and then it makes me laugh really hard.....again, distractions....I think the fluevogs have gone to my head!! Okay so my FA (I promise I'll tell this story....for those sighing and rolling their eyes at this, I know who you are and have an extra special punch for you later!) started with me at Christmas time.....we were all over at my parents house and he randomly asked me "If you had $500 right now, and could buy anything but couldn't use it on bills, kids etc and I instantly said "FLUEVOGS!" and whipped out my handy dandy iphone to show him a picture of the ones I've been lusting over for the last few years...it may or may not have been my screen saver.  He insisted I needed to buy them....for me.....I should have them!  They were regularly $609 (GASP) but on sale for $299 (how could I afford NOT to buy them right??) and it was Christmas time...and I had no money for me....or $300 boots....that are impractical....but sooooooo amazingly hot.  So the months fly by....every occasion that pops up I joke with my husband "Boy, can't wait till I get that present of Fluevogs from you!" and my birthday rolled around "Gee, my birthday outfit sure is going to look good with those Fluevogs you bought me!" and of course....he hadn't.  And I knew he hadn't....and he knew I knew he hadn't...and he always looked sad and would say "if I could afford to have those for you right now, they'd be on your feet already" which, I knew.  I obsessively checked the Fluevog website every day multiple times to see if my size was sold out or not.....even went so far as to change my husbands screen saver and desktop on his laptop to pictures of fluevogs.....and always had the size I needed and the "checkout" page of the Fluevogs website open on the bottom tab of his computer.  OBSESS MUCH???  But I just wanted them sooooooo baaaaaaaaaaad!!!  And had totally resolved that I would never have them.  So whenever I'd see my FA he'd always ask "buy your boots yet??" and I'd say no....and on my birthday he asked what I wanted and said "I'll kick in $100 towards your boots!  You should have them!  You deserve them!  JUST BUY THEM!!!" and I laughed it off and told him when I saved up the other $300, I'd call him.  So Mothers day rolls around and my FA comes over for dinner.  He asks (as usual) if I'd gotten my boots yet....I say noooo.  He says "I'm going to buy them for you.  Let me buy them for you.  I've had a good run at work this week....they can't be more then what, 5 or 600?" and I get all embarrassed and flustered and mutter something and glaze over it.  Again he brings it up over dinner "go get your fluevog catalogue!  Let's order these!"  I'm practically droooooling and again say noooo it's too much.  He leaves and we exchange a couple texts back and forth;

"Think about it, you deserve them.  I think you do!!  Sleep on it a few days"
"Uggghhhh....it's like offereing crack to a junkie!! haha"
"Just say yes damn it"
"Don't be bossy!  That's my job!"
"K.  I still want you to think about it.  Let me know in a few days."

And that night I hardly slept.  I mean, how do you accept a gift like that???  I asked all my closest friends (okay 2 or 3 people, but I don't pay them much so they have to like me a little for real?) and was told JUST DO IT and at the same time Ohhh man, I couldn't do it.  I agonised over it.  I just wanted to say YES but....the cost....and do I really deserve them??  Free and clear?  Here, have a $400 gift, just cause.  I woke up the next day and learnt it was International Fluevog Day and thought it had to be a sign!!!!  So I did it. I ordered them.  My FA said to give him a total and he'd bring over a cheque that night....which he did....even including extra money claiming I'd need to buy something to wear with my new boots.  When I moaned about the price he said "I've picked up dinner tabs bigger then that" and looked at me like I was stunned.  So order is in, and they should be here in about two weeks!  Every day I want to run around and SCREAM like a 5 year old being chased by a bee.  OH and also....for International Fluevog day...if you tweeted or facebooked or whatnot about  the joyous occasion (how could you NOT!!) they would randomly select a few people to get a secret free gift with their purchase and they chose ME!!!!!  I mean, it could be a square of toilet paper for all I care, I'd be happy!!  My FA suggest an used sock or a reeeaaallllly long shoe horn, both I would enjoy!!!  And thank you to my FA and to everyone who listened to me moan and groan and whine about these fucking boots over the last year (or longer for some of you).  I tear up as I write this.....a little bit at the thought of all the amazing people in my life, but let's get real, mostly at the thought of my NEEEEEWWWWWW BOOOOOTTSSSSSSS! SQUUUUEEEE!!!!!

Thursday, 10 May 2012

Shit my Kids Say.....and I love them regardless.

So my kids....they are all very....colourful.  I'm not sure who possibly they most take after, but I'm pretty sure it's their dad.  They come up with some of the most amazing statements...it just really blows my mind.  Sometimes these things are appropriate, sometimes not so much.  Here's a few memorable moments from the last few years of some of the things out of Kohens mouth-

K (the 6 year old)-


"You smell like dog."  This said to our babysitter...who has many dogs.

"I don't know who I'm going to marry, but I know I'm not going to marry a boy."

"Mom?  How many trees are there in the whole wide world?"

"Haha you're funny cause you pee out your butt.  Mom?  Do girls pee out their butts?"

"Girls like you don't have any money!" this said to one of the girls who I work with.

"It's really fucking cold in here!" testing out swearing while driving in the van...and yes, it was really fucking cold in there.

"It's really fucking cold in here!" this said when coming home to our house after Barry refused to turn the furnace on anymore for the season.

"Where the hell are we?" said as he looked up from his book while parked waiting for Barry at the bank.

An interaction between K (6) and G (12);
Gav- I had a bad day. Kohen pushed me down the path and was calling me bad names.
Me- what kinds of bad names?
Gav- I'd prefer not to say.
Me- just say it.
Gav- vagina okay? He was saying "Gav is a vagina" over and over.

"I just held my breath and counted to 100!............but just my nose."

"Dad...did you stay and watch my whole hockey game?" Barry says no he didn't "I scored goals!" which he didn't.

Me - What do you want for breakfast?
Koh - Get a shotgun, shoot a cow and I'll eat that.

While sitting on the toilet in the morning "Now I'll nevah (he doesn't pronouce his R's so this is how never sounds) go to school!!  NEVAH!  I can't!  I'm stuck here with poo stuck in my bum!"

"Mom?  Me and Gav are bastards, but not Lenny, right??  But why are we bastards?"

Koh - Mom...I don't feel good.
Me - Why?
Koh - Because I miss Grandma..........aaannnnnd my poop keeps getting stuck.........aaaaaaannnnnnd I wish to be Lenny cause he never gets punished, or hit AND GAVIN HIT ME WITH HIS GUN!  DAD!  GAVIN HAS BEEN ATTACKING ME ALL DAY!

Saturday, 28 April 2012

Which of my kids did this.......

Let's play a guessing game!  I'll give you three guesses....okay, which of my three darling brats children got suspended from school for 1 day and their bus for 3 days?  I know it's early, I'll help you out a bit.....I only have two kids who ride the bus.  Also, now I realize I gave you three guesses, so unless you're high on computer duster, you should be able to get this one.  What?  Oh, I think I just heard a collective yell echoing off the mountains.......THE RED HEAD???  Yes.  If you were a part of the group of people who screamed at their computer screen that it was Kohen, you have been paying attention.  Congrats, send me your address and I'll bake you some cookies.  And for those who just yelled "the red head" because obviously red heads are soulless devil children, yeah, you win too.  And for everyone else who guessed Gavin, please take yourselves to the nearest other person in the room and instruct them to punch you in the face because you sir, are an idiot.

So my lovely middle child.....sigh......yup.  It's Wednesday and I'm at work.  Me and Carmen are blowing each other out......wait wait wait wait.......it's early, let me reword that.  Ahem.....me and Carmen were tag team blowing each other out..........no no no....honest, it's not like that.  I should probably explain before I sign myself up for a 1-900 number here.....okay so there's this HAIR treatment, like the hair on top of your HEAD and it's called a "blowout".....yeah, not the best choice of terms but basically you use a BLOW dryer to blow the curls OUT....hence, blowout.  Got it?  Okay so there we were, mid blowout (stop giggling) and Barry walks into the shop.  Now, he looks like either someone has died, or maybe he was fired, or maybe he saw the dent I put in the back of the flex (just kidding honey, that was my mom), or maybe he finally saw the receipt from the last pair of boots I bought....anyways....he looks very upset.  He demands to speak to me in the back room and says he's on his way to pick up Kohen from school.  Awesome.  AND that Kohen has been kicked off the bus........for uttering threats.  Now, Kohen is six, and a boy, so I'm a little confused for a minute about what types of "threats" he'd be saying to get him into so much trouble.  I mean, at our house, the boys threaten each other all the time......threats of punching each other and taking away toys and kicking and smacking........but our darling didn't threaten any of that...no no....Kohen told another student he was going to "stab you with a knife".  Yeah.  He went there.  The other detail......he told this to a kindergarten girl.  A little sweet girl in kindergarten....probably wearing a sweet little floral dress and pigtails.  Stab you with a knife. 

*crickets chirping*

Yeah.  I didn't know what to say either...all though, upon telling this story to people at the salon, I had one person remark "Awwwww he's got a crush!!" which actually made me laugh pretty hard. But I guess they suspected he may actually HAVE a knife....which, knowing Kohen, anything is possible.  He was searched and his backpack was searched and thank god obviously he didn't have one!  So we got phoned and called into the office and told they were making an example of this and he was suspended for the day, and off the bus for the rest of the week.  Ohhhhhhh Kohen.  And what do you do??  To punish him?  He was all excited that we'd be picking him up from school....and driving him too school....it was like a vacation for him.  And he's already grounded off of video games and computer and and and and.....what else is there?  So we reinforce that it's bad to say and we don't talk like that and made him apologise......and hopefully in the future the neighbours cats won't ever go missing and wind up in our deep freeze.



Friday, 20 April 2012

My Favorite Tool

Welcome to this months blog group blog posting!  Usually I hummmmmm and mmmmm and hmmmm about whether or not to join the months post...sometimes because I just don't "feel" the topic or sometimes because no matter how hard I try, I can't put together a blog based on the subject given to us.  Yes, each month we have totally free reign to adapt the topic as we see fit, but I can't always make magic!  Just sometimes......ha!  So this month, as soon as I read the topic....BAM!  I knew exactly what I was writing about. Like a bolt of lightning from the heavens...........the idea.  So, the topic is "My Favorite Tool" and now that I'm thinking about it....I could have chosen all sorts of different things...perhaps I have a plethora of favorite tools!  Wine openers, blow dryers, scissors, my iphone etc etc etc.......but this tool is special to me....in a strange, messed up "I need my own sitcom" type way.  So here we go....drumroll please......my favorite tool is.....dun dun duuuhhhnnnn.....my ex Kevan.  Yup.  He's a total tool.  Urban dictionary defines "tool" as (many of things but this is my fav) such...

1.) A guy with a hugely over-inflated ego, who in an attempt to get un-due attention for himself, will act like a jackass, because, in his deluded state, he will think it's going to make him look cool, or make others want to be like him. The person may even insincerely apologize later on, but only in an attempt to get more attention, or to excuse his blatantly intentional, and unrepentantly tool-ish behaviour.

2.) Someone whose ego FAR exceeds his talent, intelligence, and likability. But, of course, he is clueless regarding that fact. He erroneously thinks he is THE MAN!

3.) Someone who others normally refer to as a prick, dick, or schmuck.

4.) Someone who acts like a dick, because...well...he's compensating.

5.) Kanye West

Now....okay.....this is all coming off very mean....and really, number 3,4 and 5 (obviously) don't apply to him. And here's the thing, he's MY ex, and we are the best of friends and share a child together.  He sleeps over on Christmas eve, is invited to every family event/birthday/holiday, phones us first to borrow money and the list goes on.  And honestly, if anyone else ever were to call him a tool, I'd be the first person to get my hackles up and fight them in his defence.  But, after our history, I am allowed to call him that.  It's like, when you live with a gay guy (been there) and he says "okay, you can call us fags now" cause you're like "in the club" by association.  It's my ex, and I can call him a tool.  I'm sooo not an ex basher, and anyone who reads my blog knows this because they're all sitting there right now scratching their heads saying "wait, there's an ex who's a tool?  Why isn't this a constant topic of blogging?!?!" and honestly, any bashing I do, I do it straight to his face.  But seriously, sometimes.....he is just really a complete tool.  I mean, yeah, there's reasons why he's my ex!  And because share a child....I'm kinda stuck with him.  But thankfully, we get along well enough, and are friends enough to do so in an amazingly dysfunctional, yet completely functional kind of way like....90% of the time.  The other 10% I want to either hit him with my car, or punch him in the face with a brick....why?  Because.  He's a tool.  Weren't you paying attention?  Sheesh. 

PS - Kev, if you're reading this....there's a compliment in here somewhere.....I'll give you 10 seconds to find it before I refuse to speak of it again.  Oh, and the fact that on all the child support money bank transfers you put "boob job" in the memo line just kinda helps prove my point here.  Also....remember that time you burnt my dresser and all my books? 

OH AND please check out the other members of our blog groups blog....a few new people on there this month!!

Andes cruz: http://www.andescruz.wordpress.com
Barbara Donovan: http://barbaradonovan.blogspot.com/
Robyn Hawk: http://flyviewsandreviews.blogspot.com/
Kathleen Krucoff: http://mysticalmythicalmetalwork.wordpress.com/
Beth Cyr: http://bcyrjewelry.blogspot.com
Natsuko Hanks http://jewelrybynatsuko.blogspot.com/
Christine http://sistinachapel.blogspot.ca/
WATTO (Mary) http://www.wattoonline.com/news
Wendy Kelly http://www.wendykianakelly.com
stephanie clark http://thethinkingsofacoldweathergirl.blogspot.com