I'm a pretty good time aka gong show Shannon

OMG hi guys!  You know what?  I've missed you.  Every single one of you.  I know I know I know, it's been fooooorever since I blogged.  Not for lack of material, as you all know I basically live at the circus.  And not like the happy daytime fun carnival, but the creepy night time circus full of freaks and blood and penises and mess and crying and.......I regress.  So I wanted to share with you all a lovely experience I had while camping this summer.  So lovely.  Let me set the scene....

It's hot.  It is fucking HOT.  You remember that week we had where it felt like the world was melting?  A big old puddle of goo.  That week.  So we're camping out at syringa that week and on this particular Saturday night, I'm out there staying alone with the two little boys (who so aren't little but that's another story).  Like, usually it's hot as balls in town, but then you drive out to the lake and get out of your car and it's like aaaahhhhhhhh, cooler and a breeze coming off the lake and feels like drinking and awesome.  But this Saturday, it was hot as balls in town, and like hot as bear balls at the lake.  Not even a bit cooler.  We have a tent trailer and had all the window screens unzipped and open, which normally would provide some breeze through that hot box of sweaty boys, but this night, it totally didn't.  Me and Lenny went to bed in the one far side of the tent trailer and Kohen got the side closest to the door, and we all climbed in on top of the covers and tried to get some sleep.  Now here goes.....ready?  Okay.  So.  Around 2am, I'm half woken up.  Like I'm still in that half asleep but semi aware of my surroundings state that is so weird.  I can feel this delightful breeze....finally.  It's coming across my bare legs and up around over my face over and over and over.  I'm semi aware that it feels more like a fanning then a breeze but I'm okay with it.  My half asleep mind momentarily decides it's some kind of bird or large insect outside the tent trailer and must be flying by the open screen windows.  I almost go back to sleep when I hear it..........the unmistakable fluttering sound of bat wings.  Oh.  Huh.  There's a bat outside and it's flying around the tent trailer and the breeze off it's wings is blowing inside the screen windows.  Well that's neat.  All of a sudden FWAP FLOP SMACK something crashes into my bare leg and stops moving.  I am now fully awake and laying there trying to process this when I feel the thing semi crawl/drag itself all the way down my shin and onto the top of my foot and now onto the screen window at my feet.  I glance over and HOLY FUCKING CHRIST ON A CRACKER IT'S A FUCKING BAT INSIDE MY GOD DAMN TENT TRAILER AND IT JUST LANDED AND CRAWLED DOWN MY LEG THIS IS HOW RABIES START DONT SCREAM THE BOYS ARE SLEEPING IT'S GOING TO FLY INTO MY HAIR IF I PANIC DON'T PANIC DID I JUST PEE MYSELF ITS A FUCKING BAT.....well, you get the picture.  I lay there trying not to move or hyperventilate as the thing takes off again and resumes flying around the tent trailer....it goes around and around and around and then....stops.  Silence.  Nothing.  I peek out from my bed and see nothing.  Fuck.  Now what?  The boys are still both snoring away, totally unaware.  I try to form a plan but it's hot and I'm creeped out and it's a fucking bat guys!  In my tent trailer!  I decide I could make a run for it, for the door but I'd have to stand up completely and go all the way to the other side and if that thing starts flying around again, I think I'd freak out so I try talk myself out of it....out of the entire thing.  No bat.  Probably was a bird.  It's sleeping now...shhh shhhhh.....there there go back to sleep now.  OMG there's a curtain!  A curtain to separate my bed from the rest of the trailer.  It's ripped off the top a bit but I close it anyways....it manages to cover like 3/4 of the way across the bed, sealing me and Lenny off.  There.  Fixed.  I try to go back to sleep and decide to take another look.  I shine my flashlight around the gap in the curtain and the fucker starts flying again......flap....flap.....flap....flap......flap.  Round it goes.  All of a sudden FWAP and it lands right on the curtain.  Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.  I can see its silhouette and it's crawling towards the gap.  Holy shit if it gets in here, it'll JUST be flying around the bed Lenny and I are sleeping in.  I panic and smash my flashlight onto the inside of the curtain and send the bat flying off. I hear it hit something....and silence.  Okay what now?  I decide I can climb out the side of the tent trailer!  Yes!  Brilliant! 

Now for those who don't know, the tent trailer has the beds that slide out and then canvas that goes around the outside and bungee cords attach to the underside to keep it in place.  So I try to reach my hand between the bed and the canvas to undo the cords so I can slide out.  Holy shit she's tight.  I get panicky when I realize this might not work and start smashing my arm through the side and ripping at the bungee.  I manage to get one or two unhooked and decide it's just enough space for me to squeeze my ass through so I stick my legs out and am just about to slide out.  Wait a second.....how high up am I again??  What's under me??  I force myself to grab the flashlight and look.  It's a bit of a drop so facing forward might not be the best.  There's also two bags of garbage hanging beneath me and a bag of recycling.  I kick those away as much as possible and decide it's probably best to drop out feet first, but facing down.  Here I go!!!!  I push myself off and throw my arms above my head and that fucking trailer births me out onto the dirt and bag of recycling.  I hit the ground in a heap and jump up because now I'm convinced a bear or a cougar is probably outside in the dark woods waiting to eat me.  That's when I realize, it's drafty out.  My fucking shirt is missing.  Ever go to pull off your sweatshirt and wind up taking your shirt off underneath as well?  Same thing only my shirt is now left in my bed where there's a fucking bat flying around.  So there I am, bare tits and a pair of short shorts scanning the woods all Charlies Angel style for bears and cougars while my children sleep and a fucking bat is flying around my tent trailer.  Fuck it.  I sit in a lawn chair and debate sleeping right there.  I mean, the bat isn't bugging the kids right?  Just like, deal with that shit in the morning.  Ugh....no.  So I open the trailer door and creep inside and the stupid thing is in hiding again.  I'm scanning around everywhere, trying to find it with no luck.  If I was a bat, where would I hide?  I decide that thing is probably in the dust ruffle curtain topper or whatever the hell all trailers have around the top of it so I start walking around the outside of the tent trailer banging on the canvas sides thinking it'll start flying again.  And yes, my kids still slept.  I'm getting annoyed now, like what if I was a bear??  They'd be eaten before they even realized it.  Two rounds around the trailer, and nothing.  Images of a bear ripping me to shreds and someone finding my body in the morning, topless, outside of the trailer has me deciding to try find my shirt.  Thankfully I manage to reach in far enough to snag it and shows over.  I take another look in the door and scan all around and all of a sudden I see something weird and fuzzy on one of kohens shoes, just inside the door.  It's the bat.  That fucker.  I grab a broom and drop to the ground and army crawl towards the door swinging the broom handle in front of me.  The bat starts flying again thankfully and after what feels like a hundred times round the trailer, it finds the open door and flies out, narrowly missing my face.  It's now 4am and I'm pretty much ready to start drinking.  I notice there's a light on in the trailer in the site across from me and decide had someone been watching me, they probably got a pretty decent show.  You know me, give it your all!!!!! 

I managed to get back to sleep after much tossing and turning that night.  The next day the boys didn't even believe me that there was a bat in there.  Jerks.  I made Barry bring me some duct tape and I spent the morning taping up the entire roof and where the canvas comes to the roof.  I think it's a classy addition to the dust ruffle curtains!  And that's what it's like to camp in my life!  Oh and my arm was black and blue and fully bruised up from fisting that stupid tent trailer canvas so that looked fancy.

Anyone need any topless bat removal, just let me know!!

TMI....as usual...about my girl parts...as usual.

It's been a while since I've blogged.  Things have been busy but I knew I had to make time to share this with you all.  At supper the other night I even exclaimed "I have the best blog subject to write about!" to which my mother responded "please tell me it isn't about your vagina!" and yes, yes it is.  God she knows me well!!  I mean, yes, I know there are certain things about ones vagina that shouldn't be shared, but so help me, I just have a shorter list of those things then other people do.  Let me start with a little lesson or two.  Now I'm assuming we all know the definitions of professional, skilled, educated, training and Brazilian wax right?  For those who don't, a professional can be defined as; (of a person) engaged in a specified activity as one's main paid occupation rather than as a pastime, having or showing the skill appropriate to a professional person; competent or skillful and even denoting a person who persistently makes a feature of a particular activity or attribute.  Let's apply this to the term Brazilian wax (the process of removing all or almost all pubic and other hair in the pelvic area by applying hot wax) and realize that indeed, there are people out there who are professionals in Brazilian waxing.  I myself am not one of these.  But of course I am a professional googler and after reading a few articles on the subject, decided I was basically a pro and should definitely attempt my very own Brazilian wax.  Now I am a fan of yoga and would like to say I'm quite flexible and knew the positions the regular waxing lady I saw put me through.  For those who have never had one, let me tell you, your legs wind up in all sorts of places that either should be left to the most skilled yogi and or those practicing the kamasutra.  But like I said, I googled it right?  What could go wrong??  So one Friday morning, I wound up with some free time before work, headed in and heated up the wax.  After stripping down and dousing myself in baby powder I realized I didn't do an amazing job of trimming to the correct length (it was months since my last professional wax and I could have put most beaver pelts to shame) but hey!  Should be okay.....right??  I take a few deep breaths and remember what I read about examining the hair growth pattern.....try my best to bend on over that stuff and spend an uncomfortable amount of time examining it.....hmmm yes, it does indeed seem to be growing in an outwards from my body motion.  Got it!  I slather on the first bit of hot wax and HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT'S TOO HOT.  Okay, small burn, let's turn that stuff down.  Eventually it cools enough and I give it another shot.  Smooth on the strip annnnnnnnnd take a deep breath RIIIIIIPPPPPPPPP........instant tears to my eyes and I realize I have an entire pubic region left, minus maybe 6 hairs.  What time is it?  Too early to drink?  Dammit yes.  Okay....let's try another....RRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPP holy fuck there's blood.  Tons of little dots of blood....uhhhh more baby powder....yeah slather that on there...the thing with this is, once you start, you are committed.  Like, there is no turning back or stopping.  I get the top stuff done and then spend another half hour trying to contort my legs so the folds are not so foldy and I can get strips in and around the girl bits.  At this point I'm bleeding and on the verge of tears and then I have a moment where I get a giant strip stuck to myself....try twice to pull it off and only manage to take off a layer of skin.....annnnnnnnd now everything is totally glued together with the wax.  Everything.  My entire vagina is welded shut by dried, cooled wax.  Panic sets in and I'm imagining the phone calls I'm going to have to make to someone for help "yes that's right, the entire thing.  Good thing I'm done having kids right?"....holy shit I'll never pee again!  I start awkwardly running around the room with everything all glued together then stuck to the insides of my legs having a mild panic attack.....it's okay, calm down, what would google say???  I gently try to pry stuff open and quickly give up to just give it one swift tear and hooray, she's free!!!!  And I'm not even close to being finished.  Fuck.  So I plug on, finally finishing and realize there's still the back side to do.  I really should have gotten myself drunk first.  Somehow I manage to contort myself and get one smear of hot wax down one side of like the butt cheek, and get the strip on and it's impossible to pull off.  I manage to pick it loose while crying and decide I probably did a pretty good job.  Google tells me to use baby oil to remove the wax residue and it stops most of the bleeding and I remember my waxer using tweezers to finish up any strays.  I have a good close look with a mirror and suppress a gasp as I realize it looks like I lost a fight with a meat grinder.  Good times.  Also there are giant missed patches everywhere which I frantically start pulling out with tweezers HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS!  Now I know my waxer uses some kind of soothing after lotion and I look around our esthetics room and see a bottle labelled 'tend skin' for after shaving to minimize unsightly bumps...hmmm....slather some of that on and FIRE!  OH MY GOD IT'S ON FIRE!  Oh, first ingredient is alcohol.  I resist the urge to drink the rest and put my pants on and awkwardly work my day until the best part...........I also have a pap scheduled with my dr that afternoon.  When I get to my dr appointment I try to explain to her that no, I wasn't gang raped by a group of blenders and I try to tell her the story and laugh it off.  Now all of this story may have been cringe worthy to you but this is the part that was cringe worthy to me.  My doctor proceeds to get all in there inspecting my work....like aaaaalllllllllllll up in there.  She exclaims I did a pretty good job......and then she grabs a chunk of long hairs I missed on the inside of my right ass cheek and pulls it.  Tugs it.  She pulls my ass crack hair and announces "except for that bit there!".....I almost died.  The rest of the appointment was spent talking about waxing vaginas and my quiet resolution to spend whatever money it takes to have this professionally done next time.  Took a few days for all the wax to melt off in the shower and all the hairs I missed to pop back up.  I now look like a sad molting bird instead of a beaver with an afro so I guess that's almost a success right?  Thanks for nothing google.

An old blog started but not finished from a million years ago....full of urine.

This morning was one of those mornings.  You know the ones where you threaten to move away and leave everyone behind?  Go join the circus, or become a carnie or something.....lose a couple teeth, start doing some drugs....you know, carnie folk style?  Not saying all carnies are toothless drugies, but the ones who usually hit on me at the fair are soooo.....anyways I had one of those mornings and it was not pretty.  It all started out with the realization that instead of cleaning up after supper last night, I sat at the table with Nicole and got drunk instead.  Whoops.  So then there was supper mess all over the kitchen AND I'm nursing a slight hang over.  No biggie, I'll just unload these clean dishes from the dishwasher and reload it, wash a couple things and BAM, good to go!!  Upon opening the dishwasher I realize it's decided to up and die on me.  Like, it's busted.  Great....so now I have all the dishes from supper as well as an entire dishwasher full of dirty dishes to wash.  My poor dish pan hands!  As I'm slowly working through that, the youngest comes into the kitchen with such stories as "I'm hungry...feed me....I want chocolate milk....Kohen peed in the garbage can in the toy room....put a show on for me!" and in all honesty, I was 99% certain Kohen had NOT peed in the garbage can because even though he's a brat, he wouldn't have a death wish that early in the morning.  So I chocolate milk him and put a show on and keep washing my dishes.  A little while later I hear the boys arguing about something in the toy room and overhear Kohen say "there's pee on the floor!!" and so I head on in there and Kohen says "Lenny peed in the garbage can!!" and Lenny is yelling "YOU DIDN'T SEE ME!" which is his new way of denying something that he did indeed do.  So I ask him if he peed in the garbage can and he attempts to say no but is really bad at lying (thankfully!) and yes, yes he did.  I have a look in there, there's a bag at least and garbage and now everything is covered in urine.  Lovely.  It's also all over the floor and garbage can itself because he's not very good with his aim. So now I have an entire kitchen full of dirty dishes, a smelly broken dishwasher full of dirty dishes and a garbage can in my computer room that smells worse then a back alley dumpster on East Hastings on a hot summer day.  Oh and don't forget about the hangover!!!  Joy!!!  But I guess all this is only fair....karma has a way of finding us, even years after the fact.  A story from my childhood was quickly brought to my attention by my sister upon telling her of this event....

My mom dreamt of an ensuite.  The space was there, it just needed to be built.  I swear that bathroom was in a constant state of being built my entire childhood.  She wanted it clean and white and tranquil and hers.  My Deada came by one day with a gift for her....a new tub and surround for her ensuite.  He got a great deal on it, basically for free!  With three young kids at home and one income in the family, how could you go wrong with free?  He confessed it had a bit of a flaw, a small crack running through the surround that could easily be fixed.  That was it's only issue.  Upon unveiling it, my moms dreams of a tranquil gorgeous bathroom were quickly murdered....the giant tub/surround was yellow.  Like a greeny yellow....pee yellow if you will...chartreuse?  Gaudy, bright, horrendous pee yellow.  So once that tub got installed, much of the rest sat unfinished while she tried to plan how to work that yellow tub into her design plan.  An impossible task.  Me and my sister were having a bath in there one evening...just for the novelty of it.  The rest of the bathroom was unfinished...roughed in but nothing else was there.  We were probably 6 and 8?  7 and 9?  My sister had to pee but there was no toilet and I wasn't letting her pee in the tub.  There was a cap covering the plumbing drain for where the toilet would eventually go.  Looked like a little cup.  Just pee in there, I suggest.  She's having none of it.  I of course nag and nag her to do it....promising it would be fine...I wouldn't tell...nobody would know.  My sister wasn't very adventurous but could quite often be talked into something by myself.....who could sell an idea to anyone.  Eventually she caved.....had barely squatted and started to pee in the drain cap when.......MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMM TIFFFFFFY IS PEEEEEEEEEING ON THE FLOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Annnnnnnnnd then Tiffy had to use a bucket and a cloth to soak it up and clean it up and I sat in the tub pretending I wasn't quite sure what had happened there.  So my dear friend karma, touché.  

Nothing says summer like soccer and god.

So it's summer vacation.  Anyone with kids knows how this works.....that first week off "ahhh....no getting up to make lunches....no set bedtimes....no routine of early mornings....this is great" and that slowly gets shifted through the second week and then into the third week you're all "these DAMN kids have eaten every item in the house......GO TO BED.....why are you up at 6am??  You didn't go to bed till midnight!  Why are you in my space all the time??  THIS SUCKS".....sooooo we're kinda there.  So this week we find out there is a soccer camp.  That would at least take ONE of our three kids out of the house for a few hours every morning.  And he would be happy as heck to go......of course the sporty one being Kohen.  The only thing is, it's a "high powered" soccer camp.....meaning it's run by a church.  Now anybody who knows me knows my beliefs and they are made up of this.....

A) What beliefs?

.....and that is all.  Now I respect anyones choices to believe in what they shall....except maybe for that Church of Euthanasia....no I'm not even making that up....google it.  I'm actually even jealous of people who can hold on to such strong beliefs and have such a passionate faith.  But it's not for myself.  I try really hard to keep my opinions open and vague about the subject, especially when it comes to raising my kids because I would like them to develop their own ideas about how this world is made up.  Now Kohen is a little more....ummmm.....mouldable?  He yearns for attention and acceptance....he would totally be that guy drinking kool aid waiting for the spaceship so I feel a little more protective over him and what he's exposed too.  Needless to say, I was a little skeptical of this soccer camp, but seeings how we personally know (and like!) the youth pastor at the church, I figured it couldn't be too bad.  I even voiced my concerns to Barry and he put my mind at ease....well....

Me - Are they gonna be all......*jazz hands*
Barry - All what?
Me - You know....*jazz hands*
Barry - uuuhhhhh....no?

Sooooo away Kohen went to High Power Soccer Camp.  Now I figured things were going good...lots of talk about a slip and slide and new friends.....until this happened yesterday morning...

Kohen - Hey mom?  You know that guy God that they strung up....what happened to him??

Me - uhhhhh.........hey!  SpongeBob is on!!!!

Okay yes, I deflected.  And you know what?  If not being able to deflect strange/stupid/hard questions from my kids isn't my right as a parent, then I don't know what is!!!!!  Yes, Kohen is learning some religious aspects at soccer camp this week....and yes, he's having a great time and making some friends.  And that's okay....I mean, there isn't enough room in Hell for allllll of us.

Email to my Mother....boner, wiener, balls, crapping....all the things one should send to ones Mother.

I don't know if any of you have noticed....but I'm pretty close to my family.  I actually enjoy my parents and we hang out....a lot.  Call me crazy.  Now I also don't know how you all communicate with your parents......specifically your mother.  I was going through some emails I sent her and all of a sudden it hit me....these might not be appropriate ways to email ones mother.  What do you all think?

Ahem...

Hi Mom!

I got your last email but found myself sick with what Lenny had. Finally. I guess I had avoided it long enough. I started feeling strange on Wednesday....and by Wednesday evening was really icky and thankfully my last clients were just Dennis and Lisa....but i tried to suck it up and get finished and was almost done when Auntie Lisa said "You gonna make it Shan?" and no, no I wasn't. So I spend the next hour or so lying on the bathroom floor at work, in between almost crapping my pants, until I could actually get up and drive myself home. I was up most of the night sick and then on Thursday felt like a truck ran me over. I wasn't upright for more then 5 minutes and managed to only go from bed to the couch and back to bed a couple times. I slept all Thursday night no problems and was good as new on Friday. Well, minus the 11 hours worth of clients from Thursday that I now have to rearrange. So needless to say, between Tuesday and Wednesday this week I have 13 ladies hair cuts (at 1 hour each) and 3 full colors (at 3 hours each)....the math on that isn't looking so awesome. So if I don't make it to work on Tuesday, just keep driving to Trail and come visit me at the crazy house there. I checked on Friday and I can't bring any wine, so maybe sneak some in for me? That'd be great.

The kids are all doing well.....have actually been getting along the last couple days. All of them. The common ground at the moment is..............Pokemon. All of them. Lenny included. Why, dear god why?? What have I done to deserve that mind fuck of a tv show? I mean, I put up with a lot of horrible shows...can we not just go back to Steve and his awkwardly pleated pants, ever eluding to a secret boner as he chases after his make believe dog and talks to household items???? I guess I shouldn't complain though. Kohen got to play hockey in the intermission of the Selkirk Saints game and that was pretty exciting. Barry took Dad and Darren brought Ethan and they all went last night and had a good time. Yes, we've all been checking up on Dad while you've been gone and even have fed him a few times and forced him to feed us. Robin Tomlin took him out one night and he saw Good Kevin a few times I hear. Tiffany has been getting him to watch Ethan while she does her report cards so it's been a bit of a funny role change for him I think. Even Brett has been over a few times (don't cry, it's not cause you weren't there) so Dad has been busy cleaning house and entertaining. There was one studio night at the beginning with Kevan but I heard it was pretty lame for them being such old guys from the neighbour (no names) who found reasons to go out and shovel every little bit and listen in while texting me updates. We got this. Dad did say Airmiles called and left you a message regarding a flight change to Vancouver I believe so you have to call them back.

Oh funny story.....went to bathe Lenny last night.....well I HAD to bathe Lenny because Dad found his makeups on top of the cupboard while looking for a lost ball....Barry must have hid it. We gave it to him and he went and played quietly while I made supper and Dad and I had a glass of wine. Lenny comes in the kitchen a few short minutes later and his hair is one giant glued mess of sparkles and glitter. He had a tube of glitter body gel I guess in there that he squeezed out in entirety in his hair. Looked like he was transforming into some kind of merman. So as I'm undressing him for his bath, I notice the tip of his wiener is green. Slightly concerning. I ask him "what's on your wiener?" and he holds it up and I can see the word "POSTED" revealed on his balls. Yeah, he took Barry's POSTED stamp that he uses for the business stuff and stamped all his junk. It was pretty funny.

Also, you might not understand Kohen when you get back. He's got his R's down now.....and I think it's worse. He kind of rolls them maybe? Or just really announces them? Starting to sound a little less Liverpool and a little more Shakespere.....or less Liverrrrrrrrrrrrpool and more Shakespeerrrrrrrre. You'll see.

Big hugs from all of us and we'll talk to you soon!!!!!!

Shannon

I mean....I thought it was fine....until Mom said she made my aunt and uncle read it and my uncle was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe and my aunt wasn't impressed by my use of "boner".  And YES OKAY THE THREE YEAR OLD STAMPED HIS JUNK AGAIN.  Sigh.....I was going to blog about it, but how many junk blogs can I have about him?  And honestly.....it was POSTED all UP on that junk and all over his butt cheeks...how did he even reach that??  One day I'll wake up, he'll be 30 and on Kink on TV as a guy who likes people to step on his nuts or something.....so to sum up....maybe I don't talk to my mom like a "normal" person, but who's really surprised by this?  Really?  And yeah, the moral of the story is actually how my dad left alone is like leaving your impressionable 16 year old the house for the weekend....the booze cupboard is locked up but you know he's sort of crafty and has those "bad" friends who can push him around.  Maybe when he's 70 we'll fully trust his level of responsibility....who am I kidding?? Ha!

Weak stomachs be warned....

Goooooood Morning!!!  So my three year old is just at that exact perfect age where you want to keep them this way and never let them age a bit!!  He says the funniest things....does even funnier ones and is old enough to basically entertain himself when needed and engage with the older boys.  It's perfect......except for a couple little things that he can't quite do on his own yet....we'll get into that in a minute.....let's talk about my day a few weekends back....sssiiiiiiggggggghhhhhh........

Sooooooo remember how I'm not really a morning person?  Yeeeaaahhhh well, for those of you who have forgotten, to me, the entire world starts at 6:30am.  Any earlier then that and it doesn't exist.  You get up at 5:30am for work?  Sounds made up.  I refuse to believe there is any ungodly hours out there....trust me, 6:30 is bad enough.  So now let's bring hockey into this little equation.  My middle son plays hockey.  Anyone who has had kids play hockey KNOWS the hours that that involves.  So for those of you not paying attention me, hockey and an ungodly hour are having a little threesome here.  What could possibly go wrong??  Now Barry and Kohen ARE morning people.  Me, Lenny and Gavin....no.  So we have a hockey game in Grand Forks that we need to be at for around 8:45am....meaning we have to leave our house by 7am....meaning I have to get up at 6:47am so I can be ready in time....just kidding....sort of.  So Barry is up and showered and ready...Kohen is up and ready to go all happy and excited for a day of hockey....in grand forks....allllllllllll day....with hours between games and honestly, there is NOTHING to do there!  Nothing.  An entire Saturday spent dragging the kids around Grand Forks between hour sessions in the freezing cold rink...I know what you're all thinking, wheeee where can I sign up??  Barry is waking me up and my alarm is waking me up and i'm slapping snooze on both....no not Barry....he's smart enough not to get that close to me when trying to wake me up.  And he has Lennys bedroom door wide open while everyone stomps around trying to get ready for the morning and he's not budging either.  Finally I get up and I have a huge headache and I'm really really grumpy and already on the verge of tears.  I come downstairs and Kohen starts crying "I dont' want you to come!!  I just wanted it me and dad!!  I don't want you and Lenny to come with us!!" and he's like really crying.....and I'm crying "you know what?!?  I don't want to go either!!!!" but of course Barry doesn't want to be trapped there all day by himself so he's not getting involved in this discussion.  We haul Lenny out of his crib and off we go.  The boys want breakfast....Barry asks me where we're going....our options are fast food restaurants, or fast food restaurants or fast food restaurants...I say it's all the same shit.  So they pull into Tim Hortons.  Now my mistake was not specifying....buuuuut I HATE Tim Hortons.  And everyone in that car with me knows it....like, hate. 

Now I feel like a total bitch.....because I know I have clients who bring me Tim Hortons coffee....and at that point in my day, I'm totally okay with it!  And I will drink it and not even cry.  This story and my upcoming freak out is not reflective on the coffee you bring me, solely the fact that my husband and family knows this isn't my favorite and at 7am a girl just wants a fucking cup of coffee.  So please, this is not an attack on any of the Tim Hortons coffees I have happily consumed from my amazing fantastic clients.  Okay...on ward...

So now I basically act like a spoiled rotten child and refuse to order anything.  There is not one item on that menu I want to eat/drink at 7am on that morning.  Barry is quickly sensing that something is building here and he's ignoring it.  I have tears welling up in my eyes and finally grudgingly order a yogurt which I chuck under the seat in the bag and don't eat.  The boys in the back order wild berry smoothies and bagels and Barry of course gets a large steaming hot cup of coffee.....which I won't drink.  And alllllllllll I wanted in the entire world was a coffee for the drive......just one......so I'm devastated.  I'm a huge whore for a cup of coffee in the mornings.  And off we go.....I try my hardest but the tears start coming and I can't stop them....I sob all the way to Grand Forks....or almost to Grand Forks.  We are just about pulling into town when we hear a strange noise.....Lenny kind of coughs....and then hiccups and I turn around and through my tear blurred vision see him start to THROW UP ALL OVER EVERYTHING.  Now here's the thing that at three, he doesn't get yet.  Throwing up.  There was no warning....he doesn't know to pull over or get a bag or anything...so he's strapped into his carseat, with a blanket on his lap and he's projectile vomiting wild berry smoothie all over the car.  We all start freaking out "HOLY FUUUUUUUUCK PULL OVER PULL OVER PULL OVER!!" and Lenny is just staring at me not really sure whats happening with fountain of puke shooting everywhere.  It just keeps coming and coming and coming.  Barry pulls onto this little road that heads to the mill and we search the car for napkins or anything and find ONE MEASLY scrap of a napkin in all our Tim Hortons bags....thanks alot Timmies ya douchebags.  I chuck the blanket out of the car and Barry and I are basically just running around the car freaking out....and Lenny is sitting there crying, covered in disgustingness and Kohen is plugging his nose trying not to gag.  We load everyone up again and drive to a gas station where I bathe Lenny in a freezing cold bathroom in the sink and Barry tries to scoop the puke out of the car and needless to say, I'm crying again.  We decide to head home and drop us off.  I get bags from the gas station and sit in the back with Lenny, who is green, waiting for more.  It's a long drive home.  Kohen is crying about how Lenny ruined his hockey game....and halfway home, he pulls my new ipod shuffle out of his smoothie....but has NO idea how it got in there so that was awesome too.  So there you go..........the thing that three year olds can't do by themselves.  And our exciting trip to Grand Forks.....and why we all just should have stayed in bed.

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.

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/

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!!

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.

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. 

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!!!

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 (?)!

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/

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/

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??

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.

"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?????