Atropa Belladonna~ Raven (a.k.a. Nightshade)'s Weblog ~
These are the ARCHIVES of OCTOBER 2004. For more archives, visit the Archives page. For the current Weblog entries, check the Main page.
Atropa Belladonna| Sat, Oct 30, 2004 (6:35pm) Shades got me a LIGHTSABER for my birthday! It's so cool! Now I wanna be a Jedi for Hallowe'en. |
| Fri, Oct 29, 2004 (11:45am) I didn't go to Boston Pizza last night. How odd. My Birthday only rarely lands on a Thursday (about one year in 7, ya know) and there's very little I'd prefer to do on my birthday than go hang out with gamer friends. But last night, I didn't go, despite having the time, the money, and the transportation. Instead, I went to my swordfighting class (which I usually do on Thursday), did a swing past my Dad's house to get a new headlight for my van, and then just went home. I frittered the evening away with a long hot shower, a cold drink, a comfy armchair, and a good book. It was... different. Maybe I did it because I knew I'd be seeing friends tonight (we're going out for East Indian food), or because I was still tired from being sick last week, or maybe just 'cuz Jim Butcher writes such good books. Any which way, I enjoyed it, and while I missed seeing the Thursday crowd, I didn't miss the noise or the neon lights or the same old menu. It was good. Swordfighting was also good. Excellent, in fact. I'd missed last week's unarmed combat night due to being sick, and was kinda disappointed because I'm really enjoying the unarmed stuff (throws, holds, falls, etc). But this week we were doing armed vs. unarmed, and it meant fun stuff like rushing the guy with the sword before he could slice you in half, or dodging and closing and taking his blade away from him. Lots of adrenaline-raising fun. Plus there's a really cute chick in the class, and I got to train with her. That was enjoyable. (Not just 'cuz she's cute, you realize, but because sparring with a female is very different than with a male. Women tend to be quicker, lighter, and they just plain move differently. It meant that my advantages in that area were cancelled out, and I had to fight with different tactics. It was a very pleasant change). Yeah, so that was a rush. I'm still feeling it in my forearms and wrists and ankles and calves. The hot shower helped, but ooooh... the muscles don't forgive so easily. On a completely different topic, I'm looking forward to NoNoNoNo (See - I made a page just for it!) I've gotta get my scanner hooked up this weekend, so I can post images. I've found some of my good drawing pencils, and need to go through my paper supplies to figure out if it'll be sufficient, or whether I might need some more. I also should hassle my potential partners in crime. So, this is an official query: Star? Myrna? Fox? Are you with me in this silly venture? Foxglove, you used to do graphics online - are you interested in getting back into it? (It'll give ya something to do while your boy writes all kinds of silly words). And while I'm wondering... RavenBlack! You suggested this silly idea. Are you interested in participating, or will you shake your head at us and say "It was just a joke!"? |
| Wed, Oct 27, 2004 (12:25pm) Raven: Goodnight, sweetie. Sweet dreams. Kalen: MOMMY! I can't sleep. My bum hurts. Raven (rolling eyes, and thinking 'Why me?' thoughts): Okay... what's wrong with your bum? Kalen: It hurts. It's pinching me. Raven: Your Pull-Up is pinching you? Kalen: Yeah... I think so. Raven: Okay, pull down your pajama pants and let me see. Hrm... it doesn't look crooked. It's sitting nicely on your bum. The edges are all neat. Nothing's wrong sweetie. Time for bed. Kalen (lying down): Okay. Tuck me in with a kiss and a hu - OUCH! Raven: What now?? Kalen: It poked me! Raven: ... it poked you? Kalen (standing up, and reaching into her diaper): It hurts! It hurts! It - OH! Raven: Did you just pull something out of your Pull-Up? Kalen: Yeah.. it's, uh, uh.... a shark!!! Raven: There was a... shark... in your pants? Kalen: Uh, yep. In my Pull-Up. It bit my bum. Raven: How did you get a shark in your pants? Kalen: Sometimes these things just happen, Mommy. Goodnight. |
| Wed, Oct 27, 2004 (11:55am) Happy B-day to someone I know. (And Happy Yesterday to Dave!) |
| Tues, Oct 26, 2004 (11:00am) I love the Buffy Musical. I don't particularly identify with most of the Buffy characters or their agonized lives, but it's cool to watch. So, when I saw the "Which Buffy Song are You?" on Lazarus' page, I said "Meh." Still, to support Laz in his frequent postings (which he seems to get into whenever I move him to my Lollyblogger list) I figured I'd try it and put my result in his comments section, along with a blurb about how well his song fit him (it does, ya know) and how my result just wasn't me. My Result?  I'll Never Tell.... Which Buffy Musical Song Are You? brought to you by Quizilla Odd. I totally don't empathize with Xander or Anya (possibly my least liked characters in the series) but, yeah... the song fits. As does their blurb about it. So, I figured I'd post it here, and give credit to Laz for his meme-ness. |
| Mon, Oct 25, 2004 (10:20am) The Connor Report - Month 5 in review Oops. Running a little late with my Connor update. That's okay, though, because my time is taken up doing lots of other things, like playing with my little guy. Connor is becoming more sociable all the time. He regularly climbs up on my lap when I'm sitting (for example, when I'm typing my weblog entries), or asks to be picked up when I'm in the middle of making supper, or tries to pull thngs out of my hands so he can see what I'm holding. Still not in the incessant way which some toddlers have, but really I'm okay with that. He's doing very well at school. I'm told he's one of their favorite students (betcha they say that to all the Moms). Free activity time (a.k.a. "play time") is his favorite part of class. He likes to play at the sand table, or squish playdough, or poke anything with noise-making buttons (keyboards, musical toys, etc.) He's also progressing with his Picture Exchange System so he can make a choice of what he wants to eat at snacktime (Will he place the 'cookie' picture or the 'popcorn' picture in the teacher's hand?) At home, we've been working on several things, including encouraging him to use cutlery. He likes cereal, stew, and soup, but it's tough to get much into his mouth when he refuses to use a spoon for the aforementioned foods. So I'll put the spoon in his hand, guide him through the scooping and eating process a few times, and then let him try it on his own. Generally, his response is to drop the spoon. So we try again. And again. Eventually, he might take a few bites on his own. Yesterday, Shades got him to eat 3/4 of an applesnack by himself. Clothes are another focus. We've been teaching him the names of things for quite a while ("These are your pants, Connor. See the pants?" "Look, a shirt! This is your shirt. Mommy has a shirt, too, see? Shirt.") but now we're working with the concepts "Put on" and "Take off". I've also been holding his arms and moving him through the motions of putting his own clothes on. It's a lot tougher than you'd think, because it's easy to put a shirt over a toddler's head, but it's really difficult to wrap the toddler's hands around the neck of the shirt, lift his arms over his head (without letting go of the shirt), get his head in the right place relative to the neck hole, help him pull the shirt over his face (without letting go of the shirt), and bring the shirt to the right position around his neck, where you can finally let go. Then there's the arms. Both of them. And don't forget about pulling the shirt down to cover the belly. It's a lot of work, and takes easily 10 times as long when you're teaching him to do it instead of just doing it yourself. We're making progress, though. He's beginning to put his own arms into the sleeves when I get him dressed in the morning, and he doesn't fight it as much when we do the shirt-over-the-head thing. He's even trying to help pull his pants down when we get him ready for a bath. Eye-contact is getting better all the time. Words are still infrequent (0 - 6 per day) but his babble is sounding more & more like language now. He pays more attention to what's going on around him, and regularly imitates adult actions. He wants to be part of things. And he's getting so good at expressing affection: his hugs are absolutely the best. So, yeah... we're making progress. It's still hard work, but the rewards are getting better all the time. It feels like I'm working with my little boy, now, not some stranger's kid who happens to live in our house. Life is good. |
| Fri, Oct 22, 2004 (7:50am) Note to Self: Do not, in an early morning foggy stupor, begin pouring boiled water into the coffee filter until after picking the filter up from the countertop and placing it above the coffee pot. |
| Thurs, Oct 21, 2004 (5:45pm) Anne, you'd be so proud. Kalen just named one of her Sims, "pooooooooo000000ooooooo". |
| Thurs, Oct 21, 2004 (12:15pm) Strangetown Anyone who plays Sims 2 will recognize that name: Strangetown. It's one of the three starting neighbourhoods you can play in. Unlike Pleasantville (which has a 'growing up in the neighbourhood' theme) and Veronaville (where rivalry, romance, feuds and betrayal are featured), Strangetown has desert terrain, a UFO crash site, nuclear waste centers, and even some green-skinned residents. Its population has been increasing, recently. You see: Kalen plays Sims. I think it was the people-creator portion which got her hooked. (Correction: I know it was the people creator which pulled her in). She loves creating families: "Look, Mommy! I made a baby!", "Ahahah-HAH! See the Daddy I made? He's got a mohawk!", "This girl looks funny. I'm giving her blue lips, and nubbly hair. Now I'm gonna turn her into a grandma. And now she's just a baby!" Kalen makes a lot of babies. The average age of Strangetown residents has got to be in the single digits. There is also a major Social Services outpost located in the neighbourhood, judging by how often they get called in to deal with child neglect issues. ("Kalen, Don't cry. The lady came to take your baby away because you forgot to feed it. They'll find it a good home. Now, why don't you quickly tell the Mommy to give bottles to the 5 other babies so they don't get hungry. And perhaps hire some help to change diapers, because 4 of them have stinky green smoke wafting from their diapers. 5 babies is a lot for one Mommy.") Strangetown also has an abundance of face-paint. Most residents sport orange tiger faces, or are aspiring mimes. Mohawks are the hairstyle of choice. Some genetic mutation causes many residents to have bloated cheeks, giant eyes, or elongated chins. No one has jobs. They can't fill out their names on the application forms, I guess, because qrtyl777777777777777777777777ytghhhhhhhhhieru78-.eeeeeeeeebu is a common surname. Or some variant of it is, at least. Accordingly, no one ever pays their bills. Repo men wait around every corner to claim one of the 17 teddy-shaped armchairs, or the single four-poster mahogany bed which the entire family must use for time-share sleeping. There are weeds growing in the bathroom. This is because Sim Houses in Strangetown lack flooring. Many also lack roofs, windows, and doors. We had a line-up of 7 Sims outside a small building, once, because Kalen forgot to put a door on the bathroom. Luckily, "accidents" are rapidly absorbed by the desert soil. Not so with dirty dishes, garbage, and old newspapers. These sit around making noxious green fumes. Not like the Sims notice, since the adults are also surrounded by the same green aura, on account of having only one bathtub in an 8 person family... and that tub is on the second story of a house with no stairs. Architecture is an amazing thing, in Strangetown. Leaving aside the lack of doors and windows, it is apparently common to place fences in the livingroom, pillars in the bedroom, diagonal walls standing randomly in the front yard, and 3 - 10 hot tubs in the back yard. The house itself is more a collection of outbuildings than a proper residence. No wallpaper, paint, or siding is ever used. Rooves are optional. Smoke detectors, however, are manditory... because Kalen likes to see the Fire Engines rush to put out the blaze when her Sims (who fall unconscious in the middle of cooking, because they haven't slept in 36 hours) fail to remove the toaster pastry from the oven and thereby set the kitchen on fire. Strangetown is, indeed, a strange place. And no one else is allowed to build there. It is Kalen's neighbourhood. "So Mommy, just don't touch it. Can't you see I'm busy playing Sims? Just wait your turn already!" |
| Wed, Oct 20, 2004 (11:30am) Kalen, like many toddlers, has the most bizarre conversations. We had one earlier today which went something like this: Raven: What do you think of the pumpkin we bought, Kale? Kalen: YAY! We got a HALLOWEEN pumpkin! For cutting into funny faces! Raven: There's a special name for Halowe'en pumpkins. They're called Jack-o-Lanterns. Do you want to help Mommy carve a Jack-o-lantern next week? Kalen: YEAH! We'll scoop out the insides! To make room for the JACKAL!!! Raven: (stunned silence) ... ... Uh, Jackal? Kalen: Um... yeah? We need to put a jackal in our Jackal-Lantern. Raven: Ah. I see. Well, there's actually no jackals inside of Jack-o-lanterns. Jack is the name of the pumpkin-head, and we put a candle inside to make it light up, like a lantern. It's a Jack - O - Lantern. Does that make sense? Kalen: Oh, a Jack-o-lantern. Like Jack-o-knees. Raven: Ya lost me again, kid. Kalen: Jack-o-knees. That's on the DVD. Raven: Uh... Do you mean "The Nightmare before Christmas"? That has a guy named Jack in it. Jack Skellington. He's got long legs with pointy knees. Is that the cartoon you're talking about? Kalen: No, the other cartoon. The anime. Where they talk funny. They speak in jackonese. Raven: Japonese? Kalen: Yeah, like that. Raven: Japonese is a bit different than Jack-o-lanterns. Japan is a place very far away, and people live there. They're called Japonese people, and they speak a language called Japonese. Nothing to do with pumpkins. Kalen (authoritatively): But maybe with oranges. Raven: Uh...? Kalen: Jap Oranges. Raven: ... Yes. Jap oranges. You're completely right. Where did you learn that? Kalen: I like oranges. Raven: I do too... but only Mandarins. I mean, Jap oranges. Kalen: Mandorins. Jap oranges. Yeah. They have Mandorins in Japan. Raven: Actually, I think Mandorins are from China, not Japan. That's where they speak Mandorin. Kalen: Mommy, you're just not making any sense. |
| Tues, Oct 19, 2004 (10:30am) It's cold out. And that means: Time to Clean the Front Closet and Sort Out Winter Gear! Lessee... we have 23 coats and jackets in our front closet. There are only 5 people living here. Just how many jackets do we need? (Well, 8 of the jackets belong to kids. They're various sizes since kids are constantly growing out of things, and growing into 'em. But these jackets are all in addition to the winter coats hung on the kid-hangers by the front door. They won't be used again 'til next year. Or next baby. Perhaps I shall pack them away.) I guess a couple of the jackets are mine. Two jean jackets: one silver, and one vintage denim. Oh, and the leather jacket is mine, too. So's the leather long-coat (which doesn't quite fit me comfortably, but I keep around for LARPS and lending to cute chicks). One of the Trenchcoats is mine. One is Shades'. But I like his better than mine, so that's the one I wear. Shades wears his winter coat, or his gorgeous black wool coat (which he inherited from his Grandpa, I believe). There's another trenchcoat - wait, that's mine too, from a LARP. (Tace used to wear it. Heh - haven't thought about that in ages.) So who do the other half-a-zillion jackets belong to? Oh - this one's mine. And that, too. So's this. Here's one I haven't worn in years. Oh, another of mine. Hrm. Mine, mine, mine.... and mine. This is not looking good. Better move on to something else. Boots. We have.... I can't count that high. A lot of boots. And shoes. Half of them belong to kids, and are being kept until they've all outgrown them, at which point we'll pass 'em on the someone else and let 'em make a mess in their closet. The other half... well, I don't even need to do an inventory to know they're mine. Except for Shades' workboots, they're all mine. I do not have a shoe fetish. I have a boot fetish. Right. Moving on... In the box-o-mitts-and-scarves, we have:
The thing which goes "BOOM!" was the size of a tennis ball, wrapped in black hockey tape, and had a chit taped to it. The chit reads something like this: Incendiary grenade. Stop what you are doing, count to three, and shout "BOOM!" Everyone in the room must win a static challenge or take aggravated damage. Right. I think we've done enough closet cleaning for now. |
| Sat, Oct 16, 2004 (9:20pm) And now for a look at my other job... Today was a long day. And one I'd care not to repeat, thanks. Ug. It started miserably enough, with a 7am staff meeting. Which meant I had to be up before 6am. Bah - I really don't get along well with mornings. The only saving grace of this particular morning was the beautiful layer of perfect white snow which had fallen overnight. And was still falling. All over my van, in fact. Beautiful, fluffy, cold, heavy, wet snow. It took more than 10 minutes to make my van look like a vehicle rather than a piece of winter beauty. I'd gotten over most of the beauty by the time that was done. But there was coffee at the staff meeting, and it was warm, and things went okay. It did not explode into office politics as many expected it to. The day was busy, with a full waiting room, and people coming into the medical clinic just to warm up (tho it's not our policy to let them do so, I couldn't turn them away. It was too busy to police the front door, anyways). The doctors were a bit irritable (either from the cold weather, or the impatient patients, or the fact that our staff meeting ran long and thus some things weren't quite ready for the day, or from the aforementioned office politics - or maybe a combination of the above.) The front desk staff were great as always, but even they were showing a few signs of wear by mid-day. And then things got interesting. From my perspective, at least. I do't know how much I can relay without breaking confidentiality, but let me try: (Confidential thing) happened, so the reception shouted for me and I dropped what I was doing to come to the front desk. There was (confidential stuff) going on, so I immediately routed the individuals involved (names and pertinant information shall be protected for reasons of confidentiality, obviously) to a treatment room, and decided to worry about all the blood once the situation had calmed down. Gloves went on, of course. The receptionists were sent scurrying to find charts, and to alert the doctor. I got the patient onto an examining table with some help, and began assessing (confidential, confidential, and confidential). It was not looking good. Patient's companion said (confidential, confidenatial) which was sort of, well... (confidential). But we applied pressure, and kept the patient talking, and the doctor arrived in short order. He took the whole situation in stride (good doctor) and did his own assesment. Meanwhile, the (confidential) was (confidential-ing). The doctor decided to start with stitches for the wound, which he did mostly unaided as I was trying to help the patient stay calm, and alert, and on the table. A situation made trickier because of (confidential). It was... adrenaline raising, to say the least. Once he was done, the doctor said (confidential) and to call 9-1-1. So I did. Calling 9-1-1 has the ability to raise my adrenaline levels no matter what else is going on. It was not made easier by the comotion at the reception desk, nor the gawking patients, nor the impatient patients, nor the nosy patients. I'm sure there were a lot of good, staying-out-of-the-way patients in there, too, but I didn't notice them, they were doing such a good job of not being in the way. Once an ambulance was en route, I returned to watch the patient. The doctor went to do (confidential) and the relevant paperwork. The patient was a bit (confidential) and (confidential, confidential, confidential) which didn't help, either. And the patient's cell phone kept ringing, and I had to repeatedly explain that now was not the time to answer it. Stay put. Don't move. Keep calm. I had to answer a lot of questions, and repeat myself several times - which is not uncommon in these (confidential) situations - but the patient stayed awake and talking, which was good. When the ambulance attendants arrived, they did their own assessment. I mostly helped keep the patient on the table. Thing were... (confidential) but everything went smoothly, and soon the patient was on the way to E.R. Whew. That done with, I could cope with the other, little details. Like, blood everywhere... a suture set to clean up... charting... a waitingroom full of (im)patients... reception staff who wanted to go on their breaks (Hey - I would too after that!)... and, well, the fact that we'd just gone clean over my own break/lunch time. Things calmed a little, but after the reception had their breaks, I found barely any time for mine. I tried to squeak in 10 minutes (becaus I needed the blood sugar boost, and the time to come down from the adrenaline high) and I was interupted THREE times during my break. By a doctor who was annoyed because things weren't running smoothly, mostly. And he wanted this and that dealt with now, not later. I did try to explain that I was on break the first time, but that didn't stop it from happening twice again in the next 5 minutes... so I gave up. It was not a calming, re-energizing break, and it wasn't about to become one. The rest of the day went on a low-blood-sugar, stress-induced haze. I was regularly being asked to do one thing, and then be interupted in the middle of it with something else urgent which must be done now, and then grumbled at 2 minutes later that the first thing hadn't been finished yet. But times 4 or 5 things in a row, each more urgent than the other. When my replacement came on, I tried to take a couple minutes to sign off to her (as if the events of the day could be summed up in under 120 seconds), and the two of us got told to stop talking get this and that done now because it hadn't been done yet. So we grinned and bore it, and made things be the way they were supposed to be, and in the middle of that, I was given two more things to do on the fly (meaning that someone flew by and said "do this!" and left without waiting for acknowledgement) and I didn't even get the chance to say, "Hey! Can't you see I'm busy with this other thing you told me to do??" and then I realized - Why the frak am I even doing this??? My shift ENDED HALF AN HOUR AGO! So the next person who walked up with a job for me was informed that I would not drop what I was doing and deal with blah-blah-blah. No offense meant, but I was busy, I had a rough day, my blood sugars were low, my caffeine level was even lower, and I was on the verge of tears just from sheer stress. And what was more, my shift ended 30 minutes ago. So NO. I will not do it. Sorry. To (staff member)'s credit, she stopped and asked what was wrong, and I had a brief chance to vent about the day's injustices. I think I did end up in tears, briefly (very unprofessional, I know. I think I've only shed tears at work twice before, and those times I was pregnant, so I had hormones to blame.) But she said she understood, and I'd done good considering the circumstances, and it wasn't me but (situation) and (confidential) and office politics which were to blame. So I finished the two things I was doing which couldn't wait for next shift, and I packed up, and went home. Shades was good, and let me sleep for a while when I got home. (Have I mentioned how wonderful that man is? He also cleaned up all the dishes from Thanksgiving-dinner-with-friends the night before. And he made supper. And there's turkey soup stock simmering on the stove, making our house smell wonderful). And when I got up from my nap, the kids were all-but-ready for bed. And then he went to clean out the garage so I'd have room to park my van overnight and thus avoid spoiling the early morning snowy splendour with more sweeping-of-the-van tomorrow a.m. Yeah. It was a long day. And then the police called. Unsurprisingly, there's some questions about the (confidential) incident, and they wanted to find out what I knew. I told them, and they also got name(s) from me of who else to contact, and I agreed to be available for more questions as necessary. Probably means they'll drop by the clinic tomorrow morning and take statements. I suppose I should get up early tomorrow so I can find the Release-of-information-to Police forms which we keep on hand for just these sorts of situations. |
| Fri, Oct 15, 2004 (2:10pm) Someone recently asked me (with no sarcasm or implication of slothfulness on my part) what exactly I do all day. Life with 3 preschool kids - one of whom appears to be Autistic - has got to be pretty hectic and unpredictible. Well, yeah... it is. Most of what I do on a given day is to try to impose order in a world determined to bee-line it for chaos. It's a very busy job. Here's a sample of my daily schedule, for Thursday. I picked Thurs because, having happened just yesterday, it's still pretty fresh in my mind. Also, it's the one day of the week when I have the most free time. Judge for yourself what the other days of my week are like. Thursday, 6:45am: The accursed alarm goes off. 7:15am: After hitting snooze a couple times, I haul myself out of bed, muttering grumpily. Go make coffee. 7:30am: Time to get the kids up and dressed (assuming I've found my own clothes by this point, and somehow put them on the appropriate body parts). 7:35am: Start Kalen on her medication (Pulmicort by sidestream nebulizer). Turn on a DVD for her to watch while she's hooked up to the machine. Make Jasen's bottle. 7:40am: Feed Jase his breakfast while watching whatever drivel Kale has selected to start the day with. Yesterday it wasn't too bad - it was Tentacle Monster vs. Gatchaman - but many days it's Disney. 7:50am: Begin getting breakfast ready. 8:00am: We begin the ordeal which is breakfast. It consists of telling toddlers to stay in their chairs, reminding Kalen she doesn't need salt on her waffles, picking up the Cheerios which Jase drops so that Connor won't find and eat the gluten-filled tidbits later, telling Connor to climb off the table and sit back down (and then gently helping him follow the instructions), asking Kalen not to smear syrup in the baby's hair, collecting more soggy Cheerios, etc. If I'm lucky, I may actually get the chance to eat before my food is cold, or dotted with soggy Cheerios. 8:15am: Wipe kid's hands and get them ready to go out the door. Coats on, boots on, tra-la la-la loots on. ("Mommy! We don't put loots on! A lute is a musical instument. We put backpacks on!" - Kalen) 8:25am: Everyone in the van? We wait 1 - 5 minutes for a clear street so we can back out of the driveway and head on our way. Oh, the joys of early morning congestion in a school zone. 8:30 - 8:40am: Drive to Ardrossan. 8:40am: Connor is brought to his REACH classroom. Kalen and Jasen (in stroller) wait with me in the school lobby. We practice our French and play games like I Spy. "I spy with my little eye something that is jaune!" - "It's the Sun, Mommy! Soliel! Sun!" 9:00am: Kalen's French Immersion Playschool starts. 9:05 - 9:15am: Drive back to Sherwood Park with Jasen. 9:15am: Give the baby some love and attention. Preferably playing crawling or tickle-games till he's exhausted and falls asleep. 9:30am: COFFEE BREAK!!! I check my email, read weblogs, relax, and finish the cold remains of my breakfast, if needed. Yuck. 10:00am: Cleaning (Empty dishwasher, clear table and wipe down the syrup smears, clean counters, fold laundry (sometimes), collect garbage if it's garbage day, make the beds (ocassionally), vacuum if I can't think of any excuse to put it off). 10:45am: Wake Jase, change diaper, feed bottle. Get him dressed for going out. 11:00 - 11:15am: Drive back to Adrossan. 11:20am: Connor gets out of REACH class. 11:30am: Kalen gets out of Playschool. 11:35 - 11:45am: Everyone loaded in the van? Drive back to Sherwood Park. 11:50am: Snacktime for the kids. See if I can get Connor to say 'Juice'. Help Kalen with her sharing skills (or lack thereof). Use picture exchange cards with Connor as he asks for 'chips, please!' 12:00 noon: Kids get playtime! I work some one-on-one therapy time with Connor into this, and usually get a good 20 - 30 minutes of it in, spread across the hour. I also spend time being policemom ("Kalen! Did you just steal those chocolate bars from the pantry?"), Investigator (brown smears on the floor? What could they b - Oh, no! Which one is it?? Follow the trail...), Referee ("5 minutes Time Out for roughing it!! You know bloody well that Connor's head is not a bouncy ball!"), Facilitator ("Here, offer Connor your hand and see if he'll take it. Great! Look, now he's following you without screaming. What good kids you are!"), Medic (Uh... use your imagination for this one), and Toy. 1:00pm: Lunch. For a description, see breakfast (but with more preparation time, and less syrup). 1:30pm: Kids get a video while I clean up some more. 2:00pm: Connor to his room for napping. 2:10pm: Jasen gets a bottle, and then goes upstairs for his nap. 2:30pm: Kalen is given the option of naptime, or quiet bedroom time. She then spends 5 - 50 minutes arguing that she does not need either of these. I ignore her, beacause I need her to have them. 3:00pm: SECOND COFFEE BREAK 3:30 - 4:30pm: Flex time. If I'm lucky, I can sneak in a nap. If I'm not tired, I'll play Sims. If my hygiene meter is way into the red, I use this time to shower. I pick out some clean clothes which aren't covered with slime trails. I gather the stuff I'll want to bring to LRPS. I treasure this hour.... or at least treasure the 2 or 3 minutes of it that I'm not busy telling Kalen to get back into her bedroom. 4:30pm: I clean the house prior to Shades getting home from work. Sometimes I start supper prep. 4:45pm: When cleaning is done, I wake the kids up and unleash them upon the clean house, so they can make a mess of it again. I try to minimize the damage. Occasionally I let it all go to heck and put on a DVD for the kids while I continue to play Sims. 5:15pm(-ish): Shades gets home. 5:30 - 5:45pm: I watch the kids so Shades can check his email, and / or start supper. 6:00pm: It is officially Thursday evening, and My Night Out. I stop watching kids. 6:15 - 6:30pm: Supper. I try to eat with the family (which involves more childcare again, but it's worth it) however, if supper isn't ready for the kids, or if the kids aren't ready for supper ("Kalen! Get dressed! No naked people allowed at the table!") then I eat alone, and quickly. Before the food gets cold. Mmm, hot food! 6:30pm: I leave for swordfighting practice. 7:00pm - 9:30pm: Academy of European Swordsmanship. I hit things with a stick. But I pretend it's a sword, so I feel cool doing it. 9:45 - 11:45pm(-ish): Go to Boston Pizza on Whyte and hang out with the LARP crowd. Two solid hours of adult conversation, no kids, no diapers, no cleaning, and sometimes there's even hot food. So, yeah... that's Thursday. I like Thursdays. They're so... relaxing. |
| Wed, Oct 13, 2004 (1:15pm, with minor edits on Fri, Oct 15.) Of weblogs and links... - - - Anna had this Public comment: Do people really have freak outs because you remove them from your blog links? Cuz me? Eh. Actually, yes. I've had people email and tell me they're really hurt that I removed their livejournal link (or whatever). I was surprised that it was a big deal... 'cuz I'm hardly a popularity clearinghouse, neh? And someone who shall not be named got this stricken expression when I moved him into the "Lollybloggers" section last time. Okay, it wasn't like he was really hurt by it - but he does such a great imitation! And then he started posting more regularly to prove he wasn't a lollyblogger, and I moved him back to the regular section. And then he stopped posting, again. Bah! So it's back to lollybloggerdom for you, person-whose-name-rhymes-with-Jam! Apparently, there is a very juniour-high-school mentality pervading LiveJournal - which has a built in "friends" function - so this sort of thing is more common over there. Luckily, the corner of LJ which my friends occupy seems to be free of this particular affliction... which is good, 'cuz I don't need the dramatics. - - - Housebound has this Public comment: Fortunately, I don't have to break off our relationship, as you didn't move my weblog link. :p Ah, yeah. That's a good thing. I've probably lost the receipt for the rings. But speaking of the new links, I wanted to point out one in particular to some of my friends (Hey! You NaNoWriMo-ing types out there! Listen up!) The link to Jim Butcher's weblog is for you. Well, for me, too... but I'm not pretending to write a book. Jim's the author of the bestselling Harry Dresden series, and he's using his LiveJournal to talk about storycraft. It's highly educational, and a pleasant read ta boot. Of course, Jim's novels are even better. If you haven't read Storm Front, or Fool Moon, or the others in the series, let me know. I'll lend you my copies. Just the first couple, really. After that, you can go buy your own ("First one's free... Heh heh heh.") I've managed to get half a dozen people addicted to the series this way, and I know they've spread the Dresden disease among more of their friends. So I'm probably responsible for a good 20 - 30 Dresden readers in Edmonton. Er - lemme correct that. Corin is responsible. She told me to read the first book. I had to order it in - twice! - from our local bookstore before they got me a copy. And then I loaned it to a friend and it disappeared, so I had to order it in again. And again. But by then the second book was out, so I was ordering them in pairs. And finally the bookstore just ordered in a bunch for me, and for the friends I kept sending their way. By the time the 3rd one came out, the store had 'em on the shelves without me needing to apply any pressure. The fourth one was sold out before I even made it to the store. I had to wait for their second shipment. Yeah. They really are that good. (Hey, Corin, if you're reading this: THANKS for getting me hooked on Dresden!) So where was I? Right - Jim's LiveJournal. Read it. It's good too. The only problem with it is that it's not updated often enough. (Hey, Jim! If you're reading my weblog: Go update your Journal!!!) No - waitasec. Jim, if you're reading my weblog, STOP IT THIS MINUTE! How dare you spend even a second enjoying these ramblings when you could be slaving away on the next Dresden book?!? C'mon - you got us all hooked, now you've got to deliver! Go devise some terribly painful situation and throw Harry into it, so we can shake our heads at your sadistic mind. Write, boy! WRITE!! (insert whip-cracking sound effects here.) Sorry. Got a bit away from myself, there. I hope Jim doesn't actually read my weblog. I'd be mortally embarrased to have him find me cracking a whip at him when we've never met. (Corin, he doesn't read this, does he? No? Whew.) I'm rambling now, aren't I? Gonna sign off for the day, then. Must go gnash my teeth and wait for the next Dresden book. |
| Tues, Oct 12, 2004 (11:15pm) Kalen: Look Mommy! Tentacles! Raven: That's nice, Kalen. Kalen: I'm a Tentacle Monster, Mommy! Ooooh... Tentacles! Watch out - they're gonna get ya!! Raven: Kale, you're getting tomato sauce all over, waving your tentacles around like that. Just sit down and eat your spaghetti like a good girl, hm? Kalen: But, Mo-m! I'm being a Tentacle Monster, See? Like in the anime video! Raven: In my wha - ?? Waitasec! You just leave Mommy's anime collection out of this. You don't get to watch those videos! Where did you see this tentacle monster??? Kalen, taken aback: It's from my video, Mom. Battle of the Planets. Where Gatchaman fights the Walrus monster from Spectra. It's got tentacles by its mouth, and they grab the Phoenix spaceship, and... Raven, sighing with relief: Whew... okay. Right. Gatchaman. Okay. Just... um... finish your spaghetti, okay? We've had enough tentacles for today. |
| Mon, Oct 11, 2004 (10:55am) Things I am Thankful For. (A Thanksgiving Special). - I am thankful for toddler-induced floods. Not only do they remind me that I am blessed with active, curious children, but they demonstrate the wonder of running water. Clean, palatable, water on demand! Think about it... wouldn't it suck to live somewhere that required you to go haul your own water, and then build a fire to boil it in order to kill the bacteria, before you could drink it? - I am thankful for power failures, because they remind me that candlelight is beautiful, and even when I can't play videogames and listen to my CD's, that I can enjoy a good book in a quiet house. - I am thankful when the kids drop food (even half-done cake batter) on the floor, because I have the luxury of starting over, with fresh ingredients. I don't need to cry over spilled milk 'cuz it's the last we could afford all week. I don't need to wonder where we'll get more ration tickets. I don't need to scrape it up off the floor because we're out of meal tickets and I can't make another trip to the store. We have a well stocked pantry. - I am thankful for those times I get into arguments... er, I mean 'heated discussions'... with my significant other, because they remind me that this relationship is for real, and that it's worth voicing concerns and working things out, and we mean enough to eachother to be honest, even when we don't always agree. - I am thankful for those crises in life which I can not cope with alone... because they show me that I have family, relatives, and friends, who are all willing to help me out, and who will let me help them out next time when they're having trouble. - I am thankful for all those times my parents made me go to Church, and told me to do my Catechism, and sent me to a Christian school, because it gave me a gave me a strong faith in God. Without that, I might look at all of the above, and simply count myself lucky, instead of blessed. But luck runs out, and God's blessings don't. (Plus, a solid Christian education means I can invite Mormons and J.W.'s in when they come door to door, and discuss theology with them, and ask them questions that they don't always have the answers for! Who knew Sunday School could be so useful, someday?) - - - The Connor Report Nothing fantastic and new to report, really. Connor continues to do well in his REACH class. They're introducing a "Picture Exchange" system to him. He gets pictures of things he might want (juice, cookies, chips, special toys) and to ask for that item, he brings the picture to the teacher. They're starting off slowly - just one picture at a time, for an activity which is already underway (like bringing out the 'chips' picture at snacktime) and hoping to build up to using picture boards. There's also a heavy verbal component. Everytime he gives you the chips picture, you say "Chips, please!" or "I want Chips!" so he'll learn to associate the words with his request, and hopefully graduate to using the words alone, eventually. It's a pretty big concept for a kid who, until a couple months ago, didn't seem to realize that he could intentionally influence his environment. I think he's ready for the concept, though. His behaviour has undergone some fascinating, though subtle, changes. For example, he cries differently now. He used to howl and scream when he was sad/upset/angry/scared/lonely/uncertain. Just that: howl and scream. With lots of tears. But now, if he's sad, he'll cry with a whimpering sound, and cling to you when you pick him up. If he's mad, he'll cry in a loud shouting way, and throw himself on the floor, and refuse to be held. When he's lonely, he has a long drawn-out cry, and calms down very quickly when someone comes to get him. All this is stuff which babies do long before they say their first word, but Connor seems to have only recently caught on to the concept that crying can be used to communicate a particular feeling, or request. He's also discovered something which makes bedtimes much harder. He can push a large toy or cushion up to the wall and climb on it to reach his own light switch. When we move the improvised stool away, he'll go get it, and bring it up to the light switch again! Shades and I are trying not to see this as a new source of frustration, but instead as a new victory. Previously, Connor hadn't seemed to understand that when we moved a toy away, it could be moved back. He would simply accept that his world had changed, and leave it at that (or cry.) Now, he is actively participating in his environment, and expressing an interest in how he wants the world to be. That's progress. Slow and subtle, but progress ne'er-the-less. |
| Fri, Oct 8, 2004 (10:55am) There. I did it. I ruthlessly culled my weblog-bar at the top. People may now email/comment me with complaints that because I've (re)moved their weblog, I obviously don't care about them and our friendship is over. In which case, I will nod and agree. If, on the other hand, people want to be reasonable and understand that friendship is not measured by blog-links, then we can get on with a RL friendship instead of fixating on a virtual one. Enjoy. And, in related news, I've added a variety of new weblog links to the top bar. Some may stay. Some will no doubt be removed in future cullings. For now, I enjoy following them enough to make them part of my morning routine. So, on to the weblogging proper. I've been having a hard time thinking of stuff to write. Life is pretty much subsumed with domestic duties and childcare, ATM. I've had no fantastic adventures. The various kid-stories I've encountered/endured haven't been the sort of thing I want to regale readers with (thus you will not hear a rousing rendition of the penis-pulling incident, or the diaper of astounding stench). My Sims lead lives less sordid than Dave's Sims, and you don't really want me to write about them anyways, do you? I have mercifully been spared any major catastrophes recently (and God - if you're reading my weblog - I wanted you to know that I'm okay with that!) and have found the day-to-day crises which arise to be quite surmountable. The Roleplaying games I'm in are amusing, but make poor copy. So what am I going to post? I've been trying to draw inspiration from others' weblogs, and have found one amusing concept. RavenBlack suggested (in that flippant way he has) that there should be (instead of NaNoWriMo) a NoNaNoNoNoWriNoMo. The basic idea being that, since a picture is worth 1,000 words, you should draw 50 pictures in November, rather than writing a 50,000 word novel. He complicates it by making it not-quite a month (25 days only, so you're doing 2 pics a day) and pointing out that it's not national either, just to make a big complicated acronym out of it. I smiled in amusement when I read his suggestion, and then dropped it. But since then, the idea has been sneaking into my thoughts from time to time. Perhaps a series of drawings would be a good thing. I've been wanting to get back to my drawing for quite some time. I can't claim to be spectacular as an artist, but I'm not too dreadful. I could scan my daily work and post it for comment/criticism. I might even be able to con a couple other people into NoNaNoNoNoWriNoMo-ing with me. Like Fox. (Hey, Fox!!! Weren't you saying you wanted to get back to your drawing?? What happened to that plan of yours to draw and post the pictures, anyways?) Or maybe Starlin'... except she says she'd rather take photos than draw... to which I say, Hey - it's a nice new digital camera you've got, and you wanted to practice with it - why not? Does anyone else want to make this silly suggestion into a reality? If you do, I think I'll re-name it NoNoNoNo just for simplicity (thereby spoiling RB's wonderful acronym) and invite people to do 50 pictures between Nov 1st and 25th, and post them to their weblogs. We'll see how it goes. Accomplishments of Yesterday: Did a thorough carpet cleaning of our front porch, which desperately needed it. Did a stint as Playschool Duty Mom. Cooked gluten-free meatballs. |
| Tues, Oct 5, 2004 (6:45pm) Jasen can crawl!!! The little guy looks so cute when he's trying to be mobile. Half the time his little bum is up in the air as he tries to walk on both feet, half of the time he's dragging his legs in a commando crawl, and inbetween he does these little hop-slip-lunges, but he does somehow manage to propel himself forward through it all, and he giggles the whole time, because he is GOING places, and he knows it! Um... in other news, my Sims are doing well. More updates as events warrant. Or as I have time, between Life and Sims. |
| Fri, Oct 1, 2004 (10:55pm) Happy Birthday, Corin! - - - Today...
- - - Geeky Goodness Once all the kids (ours, and the sleepover guests) were down, I cleaned (and cleaned, and cleaned... 'cuz 9 kids leave no small mess in their wake) and then finally collapsed in front of my computer to vegitate for a while. I didn't really have the energy for Baldur's Gate, nor the stomach for Sims at the time, so I fired up my AfterDarkGames and got ready to play Solitare. Only, it wouldn't load. It kept giving some error, which (although I don't understand the error codes) made me think it was having problems with a corrupt data file. Don't ask me what gave me that idea. I know nothing about software. So, I went hunting through the hard drive to find where the AfterDarkGames data files were stored. I looked through them, and found what I suspected to be the faulty files, and tried to fix them. It didn't work. Grrrr. I'd been playing a lot of Casino Solitare at one point, and had a pretty high bank balance on that game (Yeah, I know that real Casino Solitare does not, over time, generate a positive balance. But this game has an 'Undo' button, which makes all the difference) and I really didn't want to loose that money total. Or the HighScore. But what could I do? I pulled various files into textedit to look at them. Most were gobbledygook and full of unreadable characters. Some had portions of text. Many were strings of numbers which made sense to the computer, but not to me. I did find some interesting files, though: the prefs for each of the users, which contained info like: which game they'd played last, what volume setting they used, and even the account balance for the Vegas Game. Hahaha! Now, I can edit my Vegas Account total if I want more money! MWAHAhahaahaha. Sigh - if only life really worked that way. And then I came across a file with a line in it saying 'numplayers=2' and it was followed by a list of players... more than 2, but less than the number of players who had pref files. Odd. So I made a copy of that file (just in case) and then hand-coded in a list of current users, and reset the 'numplayers' value to equal the number which I had on that list. I saved, and ran the game. It worked perfectly!!! Woohoo! I feel all geeky now! AND I can play solitare again. |