Weight! I’ll tell you a few stories…

Last week at Weight Watchers the weight loss was not good. Really, really not good. Like gaining the same amount of weight back that you just lost the week before not good. But the humour? The humour was good.

Our leader has a theme for each motivational talk she does every week. She has it all layed out on a giant boardroom tablet in brightly coloured markers, with inspiring quotes sprinkled thoughout. And she’s good. She’s peppy to the extreme, but she’s good. You leave a meeting ready to conquer the world (until you drive-thru at Wendy’s right after the meeting, because it’s Thursday and this Frosty doesn’t count. The new week begins on Friday). Like last week’s theme was “Row, Row Your Boat”. It was all about how weight loss can be compared with trying to row a boat. You’re rowing backwards, so you can’t see where you’re going. You end up rowing in a zig-zag fashion rather than parallel with the shoreline….blah, freaking, blah, blah, blah…

Anyways. At the end of each presentation she flips the final page and reveals (TA DA!) the theme of the next week’s meeting. On Thursday, she flips the page and it reads:

Discovering Your Sixth Sense

…so I lean over to my Sister-in-Law, Debbie, and, summoning my inner Haley Joel Osment, I whisper in her ear…

“I see fat people!”


People neglected to tell me that when I started to lose weight, cramps would once again become ABSOLUTELY UNBEARABLE! Not unlike that summer when I was 14 and I spent an entire week of my vacation in England curled up on my Granny’s couch…close to death from the pain. Death I tell you! I still remember that my Mom took my brothers to the market on the bus and I had to stay back…no shopping for me…not a huge deal since my Granny tended to my every whim, bringing me cool cloths for my forehead and Jelly Babies for the pain…“to settle your stomach sweetheart” (because candy? better than Midol for the monthlys. And Granny’s? Better than anything at all times.) I wonder what the people here at work would think if I just curled up under my desk in the fetal position…after the way they’ve treated me this week…should I really care?


Cheap Bastard doesn’t seem too affected by MY HORRIBLE WORK DILEMNA 2006. We were discussing it in the car last night…actually, I was ranting and raving and spitting and snarling and I did, in fact, scream something about communism. Something like: “We’re not living in a communist country here! Nobody’s gonna tell me I have to be an ice skater if I’d rather be an engineer!” (I would totally be an ice skater if somebody said I had to be one, cause if someone offered to teach me how to do a triple axle I’d be all over that! An engineer though? Not so much.) He replied that all work places are communist…basically insinuating that I should just suck it up and accept whatever they throw at me. This? Just made me madder. Wherein I threatened to run away and join the circus or maybe it was more like “I’m just gonna quit my job and go back downtown and they will be very sorry and miss me a lot and cry that they never had it so good before I got there and who is gonna pay the invoices on time now that I’m gone and don’t they know who they’re dealing with here and why am I so assertive in my mind and a freaking pathetic puddle when they’re giving me orders?”

So, the work thing? I haven’t even begun to decide what I’m going to do about it. I do know that I could go back downtown and work temp to perm and be earning almost ten grand more a year than I do now. I also know that the hours would be longer and the commute more arduous. I would again take the commuter train downtown, the pros of which would be no more traffic, a comfortable seat, I could nap or read or watch tv or write on my laptop. The cons? An hour and a half each way as opposed to 30 minutes each way as it stands now. Working as an Exec. Assistant again would be much more stimulating and challenging…clerical accounting is very “the same” from week to week to week.

I need a plan. Heck, I need to set a date to schedule a meeting with myself to sit down and write a plan. Procrastamom, she is mighty!


My son broke my heart into teeny, tiny pieces this week. He is officially too old to hold my hand out in public. As of now. Right this second. Thank you and goodnight.

He is also too embarassed to wear his Beaver uniform out where everyone can see him, especially while walking to the Fish Hatchery for a field trip. No problem wearing it at the Fish Hatchery. Just not out in the open where the general people of his neighbourhood can see him. I pointed out that Rhylan across the street was walking around in his Cub Scout uniform that same night. Doesn’t matter. Rhylan is a Cub and he’s older and Cubs are cooler and next year he will be a Cub and he will wear his uniform anywhere we want him to. To bed even. But Beavers? They are Kindergarteners and Grade ones. And he? Is grade two. And tired of dealing with the other “Kindergarten babies” in his troop. Fine. Understood.

But breaking the heart of the person who loves you more than anyone else on the whole big earth? Not fine. Not understood. Budgie, you are only eight years old. Yes, it’s true that Zeenee was only six when she ordered me to no longer kiss her in the car when I dropped her off at school. “And please Mom, if you have to say I Love You, could you just say Elephant Shoes instead? Then my friends won’t know what you’re talking about.” (“Elephant Shoes” is our code word for I Love You. Try mouthing it silently to someone and see if they don’t think you’re mouthing “I love you” instead. Bonus points if you do it to a coworker or someone who would be equally uncomfortable with you silenting professing your love for them. Like my husband’s best friend, Budgie Sr., did to me when we were seventeen and-oh-my-god-Cheap-Bastard’s-best-friend-just-hit-on-me-and-how-am-I-gonna-break-it-to-him-gently-that-I’m-not-in-love-with-him-too? Elephant Shoes. Try it. It is fun. And code too.) Zeenee also ordered me to cease with ever waving at her again in grade six, but luckily has sinced vetoed that law.

Anabella will still freely hold my hand wherever we go and has no problem with the “I love you’s”. She’s such a snuggle-bun and I Elephant Shoes her soooo much.

But I have officially lost TWO of them to the dark side now…and Bella is almost ten…so tell me, how long do you really think I have left?

When I was pregnant with Budgie I was sooo looking forward to having a boy. My girls were such “Daddy’s Girls” that I swore if I didn’t have a boy next, we would have to get a dog so someone would love ME. And it turned out perfect. From day one he’s been MINE…all mine! At four he declared that when he was older he was kicking Daddy out and he would marry me. He made up a special kiss just for me…the Angel Kiss. He puts his lips really close, but not quite on my cheek and blows a soft kiss…like an angel. If he’s hurt, he needs ME. If he’s sick, he needs ME. I remember him being sick at about age five and him curling up on my lap and falling asleep on my shoulder. I remember thinking then that there wouldn’t be many more times that I would get to hold one of my babies like that…and I was so right. It was actually the last time. The very last time I had one of their little faces snuggled into my neck…the very last time I held one of them and just inhaled the top of their head.

And now it’s the hand holding. There is almost no-one left to lead ME across the street…

Desperate to be a Housewife

Time until I’m back with my family: 5 hours, 40 minutes

Laundry List: Now that there’s no-one to lead me across the street, I guess I’ll have to launder my visi-vest….the bright red one with the big yellow X.


5 responses to this post.

  1. Wait… it STOPS? The neck snuggle and inhaling of the top of the head… STOPS? While they’re still kids? Oh oh oh dear, I thought it would just “slow down.” But…

    I’m going to curl up into a ball under MY desk now! 😦

    Poor you!

  2. ahhhh that is so sad about Budgie……I dread that day!!

    oh and your 6th sense had me ROLTF LMAO!!!

  3. That’s where I am at right now with my baby boy – just smelling the top of his head every chance I get because he’s my last and I’ll never have this experience again in my life. Of course there will be grandkids eventually, but it won’t be the same. Thankfully he is a total snugglupagus…for now.

  4. Very excellent post. A very good read.


  5. haaaaaaaaaa!!! we would get along so great, “I see fat people”.. if we are in some serious situation, I often lean over to hwmnbn and whisper “sometimes I see dead people..” oh, and when he asks me something, it is always fun to answer in a singsongy voice “I’ll never tell” like from that movie. hahahah.

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