Troll Ants

     
I know I haven't blogged in a while.  3 months actually.

Seems to be the issue in my life at the moment is consistency.  Ask me about my fitness routine, painting, blogging..Actually don't ask me because I haven't done anything in a while, but don't worry, I'll do all of it really well for a week before I get distracted *cough* Candy Crush! *cough*

The only thing I've kept up on is Voyager. I'm on the last season now and part of me is going to miss Kate Mulgrew's acting skills which more and more seem resemble her trying to hold in farts.  The other part of me hates myself for sticking through all 8 seasons in hope it gets better.  It doesn't.  At the end even the actors seem ready to wrap things up and hit the caterer's tent.
Anyways, this isn't a post about Voyager, it's about something more annoying.

Ants.

Yes, ants.

You see, D and I have become renters.  The only difference I can see so far between owning a house and renting is when the kids destroy or dent things I can laugh and say "It's not my place".  I'm pretty sure there are many benefits to home-ownership, however when you live with toddlers it's nice to know that as long as the damage stays below the damage deposit value, you're fine.  However when we moved in, the landlords forgot to mention our roomates..the ants.

Do you know that there are over 12,000 species of ants (I can't remember if this is a true fact or if I just made it up but for the sake of this blog just work with me).  However our place is populated by a unique type of ant.  I have given it a new species name, I guess I should go update wikipedia for those busy scientists who will no doubt want to award me a noble peace prize, and maybe a catered lunch.  I dub thee: Troll Ants.

What is a troll ant? Well first of all let us define troll via urban dictionary

    "One who posts a deliberately provocative message to a newsgroup or message board with the intention of causing maximum disruption and argument"

This is exactly what I have on my hands.  But instead of living in message boards or comment sections on the internet, these ants live in my cupboards and possibly my dishwasher.

So why would I call these ants trolls?

Because they are not bound by the normal laws of ant physics which is: see sugar-->eat sugar-->march around a picnic blanket.  No. Instead they feed off my sanity because nothing is sweeter than my sanity.  Seriously, I've bleached and cleaned my kitchen so there is nothing that the ants could possibly want.  It is so clean that I could almost claim that you could eat off them, but that would only be applicable if you were a contestant on fear factor and required to eat ants.  Meanwhile just across the tile in crumb paradise is millions of pulverized cheerios, because a toddler seem to sweat crushed Cheerios (maybe it's their version of pixie dust?).  D has spray foamed and sealed all the cupboards and cracks in the entire kitchen, these ants determined to stop at nothing in order to invade my kitchen just to watch me lose it.  They couldn't have done a better job, even if they had ant sized t-shirts that read "you're just a fangirl".
At first I didn't want to use traditional pest control measures since I've grown rather attached to the bigger pests in my household (the kids).  I spent two weeks trying every recommended natural ant repellant that "Yahoo Answers" had to offer (including mini signs saying no ants allowed, a suggestion probably made by a real troll).  Armed with cinnamon and vinegar I waged battle. Well not really a battle, it started getting into looney tunes territory.  I felt a bit like the wily-e-coyote as I mixed my homemade any spray-which I've dubbed "Kalitov Cocktail". At this rate, I'll be receiving packages from Acme...actually, an anvil may just solve my ant problem.. Vinegar just made the ants more angry and they found their way into my dishwasher, earning our rental at least 3.5 pitchforks in hell's travel guide.  It got so bad that once in a while my dishwasher just turns it's self on and does the dishes. Either the ants have gotten into the electrical or we are haunted by a ghost with higher cleaning standards than me. Either way I can't ask if they used dishwashing soap without hiring a medium or dr. Doolittle.  One morning after leaving out a wet rag-not dirty, WET-hang to dry is reason enough to celebrate. I woke up to antapolooza happening in my sink. After deciding that cinnamon and vinegar was not enough to break up the party, I ended up squishing 40 ants.  It was time for chemicals.

The troll ants just laughed.  I was feeding them all the attention they needed. Wherever I put powder down, they would just find a new place to enter the kitchen, making a home in my coffee cups and silverware so I would spend the rest of the day worrying about accidentally, indirectly poisoning myself.

Eventually I placed down a few ant traps and ignored them.  I forgot about the cardinal internet rule of "don't feed the trolls".
They actually disappeared for a few weeks.  I guess you can only torment someone for so long until you get bored, plus the neighbors decided to leave their garbage outside and most trolls love an easy target.  Just as I was getting use to living in a place where you couldn't tell if that speck was dirt of insect based, I opened up the dishwasher and was greeted by 20 ants.  Turned the dishwasher on high heat.  Apparently they like jacuzzis because they're back there today.

Okay so who put these ants up to this? You can come forward now.

Candy Crushed

After spending most of February and some of March being a productive member of society, I decided to take a break and spend some time just consuming oxygen and catching up on TV.  Sure I could have ridden that wave of productivity to get a job, volunteer, clean...but I decided to get off, park my surf board and have an ice cream.
So what Have I been doing? Obviously not blogging, painting or looking for gainful emplyment.  Nope, I made a grave mistake: I took advice from Facebook and downloaded a mindless, highly addictive and slightly aggravating game.  I should have started recreational drinking, at least they have rehab for that.  What's this mindless game that seems to have consumed everyone on Facebook?  It's called "Candy Crush"
  Chances are you have seen this game pop up on your local newsfeed.  Normally I block all Facebook based game, because quite frankly I've never dreamed of being a farmer and quite enjoy watching my real-life plants die from neglect on my patio.  The premise is quite simple: try to get three of the same candies in a row to remove them from blocking your objective: whether it be bringing down ingredients or removing jelly.  I should explain further since chances are that you've never played the game because if you have, chances are is that you wouldn't be reading this blog, or showering, or doing anything besides looking at your device of choice screaming "somone send me a life for crying out loud!!!". AKA My Friday night.

I know.  Apparently people can give me as many Candy Crush lives as I need but no one can give me an actual life.

I'm currently waiting for my next batch of lives (you only get 5 at a time then have to wait in 30 minute increments), and that is why I am actually writing, and job searching.  When I close my eyes I see little pieces of candy floating down in unity, creating stripped candy, color bombs clearing jelly and busting through chocolate...ahem... sorry.
   The other draw back? Makes me crave candy.  Ask me about eating a kilo of jelly beans.  I was practicing real life candy crush, and let me tell you...I cleared that level.  After a long day of playing I told my husband I was making cake for breakfast.  He laughed, until he asked what was for dinner and I placed a cake on the table.  Obviously he thought I was joking....
  I introduced the game recently with my husband.  He is now glued to his Iphone.  In fact, fights have occurred over choice I Phone plug locations-the winner gets the couch, the loser? the barstool facing the fridge.  It reminds me of that Star Trek TNG episode where Riker brings that game aboard ship. Dave and I sit on the couch asking each other what level we're on. Friendships have been placed in jepardy over promptness to send tickets to unlock new levels. 
   Anyways, once we have surrendered to our new overloads: aka the Candy Crush designers who decide to withhold all future levels until you shave your head and join the Candy Crush compound-I figure life will be just a bit simpler... after all, anyone who bases a game on candy can't be all that bad?

Real Estate Reality

  
D and I decided to sell our apartment.
           As I was madly scrubbing the place clean, I came to the realization that trying to sell an apartment is a lot like dating. You spend the whole time trying to convince someone that you are a perfect fit for their lifestyle.  Yes, just as I spent hours curling my hair, putting on makeup, cramming my muffin top into my bra and posing in front of the mirror; I was shoving junk into closets, scrubbing finger prints off the mirrors and slaying dust bunnies.  Just as I appeared to be witty, charming and never sarcastic, I had to make my house look like it was flawless, that despite having 2 toddlers, my house was spacious and not some cramped camper heading towards insanityville .  I can do this.  I did this before.  When we met, D didn't know that eating pop tarts while watching star trek was considered a hobby in my books until it was too late, not to mention too expensive to run for the hills.  Oh please let my potential buyer specialize in bad decisions.
      Don't get me wrong, it's not like there is anything bad about our apartment.  However, there is nothing special about it that would set it apart, or make the toddler-caused damage seem enduring.  It lacks, character.  I'd consider it 2D because it's lacking depth.  We also haven't done anything to it: white walls, white...er...whitish...er grey carpets and not really decorated.  What can I say?  We don't own nice stuff, we have toddlers.  So my solution?  Make it as clean as possible.
         So here I am, scrubbing the walls in a desperate attempt to impress some stranger and not land myself on a demo tape for Hoarders.  I've been cleaning for three hours.  Sure, my place doesn't look spotless, but at least you won't be wondering if you'll be left with a rash when you leave.  Come to think about it, it looks almost the same as I began.  I just hope no one tries to open a cupboard, I may be hit with a potential lawsuit when a potential buyer gets buried in 2 weeks worth of laundry.  I've renamed the task "Operation Beer Goggles".  Oh please let my potential buyer specialize in bad decisions.  Now the waiting game....

Welcome to Real Estate hell...

 Enter the apartment showings....

    

     We had a showing today, which was the main reason for my renewed interest in housework.  Matter of fact, I consider this the Housewife Olympics. I had a days notice to pull this together.  At the time I was told of the showing, my daughter discovered that if you empty all the contents of the dresser drawers onto the floor, you have a nice soft landing when you try to jump off the bed.  Now it's a personal challenge: can I scrub the place clean before the next person comes to see the place?  I may be a pro cleaner but my toddlers are well schooled in the arts of mess and destruction.  Oh please let my potential buyer specialize in bad decisions.
Apartment living brings its own obstacles.  For example, it's just not you, oh no.  You have to hope and hope AND hope that your neighbors will be on the best behavior for that moment.  Yes. that lady that likes to talk about how impressive it is that Strata has managed to fit its head up its arse, given the massive stick already up there...she's probably in the elevator.  That person who lets his dog crap in the hallway, yup probably in the elevator.  In fact they are the Welcoming committee, ready to greet the buyer.  I also have a sneaking suspicion that our neighbors downstairs who are also trying to sell are choosing this exact moment to seek revenge for our kids screaming through their showings by deciding to take up  the bagpipes. Oh please let my potential buyer specialize in bad decisions.
     Anyways, as mentioned I cleaned for 3 hours straight, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they would be blinded by the shiny chrome and not notice that the white carpet is lepoard print...or that my son just dragged his arse across it sans diaper moments before.  The realtor estate agent and buyer took 3 minutes to check out the place.  Which is a long time considering you can stand at the entrance and turn 360 degrees in place to get the full tour.  They mumbled something in another language that must of meant "I'm not that desperate yet" before leaving.  They didn't even check behind the oven.  I scrubbed that clean!  Scrubbed that clean!!
      Maybe next time.  Maybe next time Mr. Right will come along.  Oh please let my potential buyer specialize in bad decisions.

Technology Time-out

I have a confession to make. I'm in love with my IPhone.  It's the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to bed.  It tells me the weather, the time, makes me laugh, makes me cry, it's like having a good friend without the fear of having to answer if its butt looks big in those jeans.

I discovered that I have a problem.

I first figured it out when my cell phone battery died and I had to drive home.  I started panicking...what would I do if something happened, like mysteriously I ran out of gas or that William Riker was finally going to propose to me? Then it dawned on me, I didn't have a cell phone until I was 18, I was pretty sure I would survive the 5 minute drive home. Sure enough, when I plugged in the IPhone, no one had phoned and nothing happened on Facebook.

I had become completely reliant on my phone.  Like Lassie, it was an enabler (really do you think Timmy would keep falling in wells and stuff if he didn't know Lassie would just bail him out?).  The worse thing is that I was on the phone instead of interacting with my children.

So I decided to scale back the use of my phone.  Reluctantly.

I had already started a few months ago by putting my phone away while visiting my friends or at Strong Start.  It drove me crazy when in public that so many people's noses were buried deep in their phones instead of interacting with each other (myself included).  I figured that leaving it in my jacket pocket would work best because one moment I would check the time and BAM there I was on Facebook.  Out of reach, out of mind.  Now I don't mean to toot my own horn... it's easy to show manners in a public space, I also don't go into someone else's house and drag my butt across the carpet (it's called class people!).  However I still had the issue of being on my phone surfing the net while at home or at my parents.  As soon as I got home I would be back on the phone.

Not only was I missing out on my kids (or letting them run around wild), I was setting a bad example.  It dawned on me, raising children is a bit like dating-you have to be like the person you want to date, or in this case the person you want your children to become.  Right now I was on a one way train to sulky-teenager-always on the phone-ville. 

Now I'm not going cold turkey and I will still answer calls and texts.  I don't believe in just throwing out the phone or going back to the Nokia brick phone with no data plan is the solution.  Like everything else moderation is the key.  Yes I can shelter my kids from phones but showing them how to use a phone responsibly and not like an air tank would benefit them most.  You can keep your children away from McDonalds, but one day they will trip and fall on a french fry!  There had to be a solution.

I only allow Lily one movie a day (after the dreaded lets watch Cars three times in a row incident), wouldn't it only be fair if I was subject to the same rules?  So I created the Technology Time out box (boy is my husband going to like this along with the introduction of tofu Tuesday).  The concept is simple, the phone goes in the box, I can check Facebook in the morning and evening.  Sounds simple, but oh, so difficult in reality.

It's hard not checking Facebook multiple times a day.  The whole world is online and it moves so fast that I think we all begin to develop a fear of being left behind.  I once read a study (on my phone) that said Facebook users report feeling depressed when checking Facebook because they assume that everyone is having fun except for them.  I'd believe this since most of the time I'm sitting on my couch eating poptarts and watching Star Trek....okay never-mind that's a great evening! Most of the time when I'm watching Thomas for the millionth time..  Think about it, except for that one person who just posts photos of what they're eating (sorry to my sister who posted a picture of her dinner tonight, but in fairness to me I wrote these notes a few days ago), people posts photos when they are out and doing something.  I know for a fact I only post pictures of myself when I'm dressed up and actually wearing pants and brushed my hair.

So it's a work in progress, and I'm really trying hard on this one.  Once Lily is able to draw more than random scribbles and does a portrait of her mom, I would like it not to have my phone attached to my face.

Let me paint you a picture

As many of you know, I am on another Davecation.  As with the many Davecations that have come before it, I am stuck at home at night and have plenty of spare time from not having to do laundry or make lunches.  It's like I'm a teenager again with an 8 o clock curfew. Lily turns into a pumpkin if not in bed before 8:30.  Okay change pumpkin into Tasmanian toy hurling she-devil....

So what do I do? TV gets old fairly fast, even with TLC's line up of reality TV shows.  I mean, I've already watched most of Honey Boo Boo's family fart through all the major holidays.  I have decided to take up painting.  Something that will make me sane after a full day of debating the merits of pants with a toddler.  Apparently Lily thinks I should wear them when I'm at home.  Like with all my hobbies, I have little faith my interest will continue past a few weeks so there is a chance all my supplies will end up beside my unfinished sewing and music instruments.  I bought the best paint that the dollar store could provide, which means I have about 5 colours to choose from.  They say you can make any colour you want if you have the primary colours, but don't listen to them, all I am able to make is brown.

I've been posting my pictures on Facebook.  The beauty of social networking is that you can subject others to whatever crazy you can take a picture of.  Plus there is only a like button so nobody is a critic.  So far I believe that I am doing fairly well, in fact my husband commented that he didn't know I could paint.  I'm not surprised, I also hid the fact that I was a trekkie and now he gets to spend the rest of his married life watching Star Trek TNG reruns...

Betcha didn't know that the actor that played Scotty lost his middle finger during World War 2 and they hid it in most of the shots...
or that Worf's forehead prosthetic changed appearance in season 2 because the original one was stolen...
or that originally Counsellor Troi was suppose to be a four breasted alien before Gene Roddenberry's wife shot down the idea (moral of the story: a happy wife is a happy life)..

you're welcome, it's a pleasure to educate you.

Now where were I?  I use to draw all the time. I was a geek before the hipsters, before all the "geeks are cool movies", before people realised that would need geeks to set up their wireless routers.  I had a lot of time on my hand, since my social life was as dead as crocs in the fashion world, so I use to draw.  Sure it was mostly random anime and me marrying Willam Riker (I know, I know, it would never work, him being in space and all) but I found a lot of enjoyment from drawing and became pretty good at sketching.  Anyways once I hit university I become fairly social and stopped drawing and watching star trek (which is why Johnathan Franks went on to marry an opera singer and got old).

Anyways enough of my teenage angst.

I've been painting almost every night.  I finished a painting of a unicorn punching a dolphin, because as you also know, I am the only person on the planet that hates dolphins.  PS-try explaining to a lady at Strong Start that you enjoy painting and you mostly paint pictures of dolphins hitting things and NOT sound like a psycho.  I've also painted the same unicorn kicking a sea-turtle because he is a badass and for all you non mythical beings out there, it is thousands of dollars worth of fines if you try.  As soon as I post this, PETA will probably be banging on my door any minute.  Good thing I keep a batch of panda pate for unexpected guests.  I've also painted pictures of my son that passed away.  I've found it fairly therapeutic, also I feel like I get to relearn what his face looked like, by sketching him, I've discovered facial traits I didn't know he had. I have also drawn my beloved Star Trek-but no marriage photos, I have enough laundry as it is.

Anyways I'm off to think of my next painting.  Hopefully I'll find something else to blog about of interest.

Year in Review

Well it's that time of year again. 
   As you may have already discovered, Christmas season always brings the annual Christmas newsletters.  They show up in the mail (on time no less) showcasing a picture of a photo perfect, smiling family and each paragraph boasts more successful ventures then the last.  For some reason their toddler doesn't decide to stick her finger up her nose in EVERY photo!  Usually when reading about how little Timmy has mastered quadratic equations is the same time I notice that my daughter has used her hair as a napkin (you try not to freak out when her head is covered in red ketchup and you mistake it for blood)..
    I've always wanted to start a newsletter tradition of my own, however, I've been waiting for some boast worthy news.  This year I decided to try to work with what I got.  So far it hasn't gone as planned.  For starters my newsletter is already late: I aim for Christmas and I'll be lucky to get one out by February.  Second of all, I don't plan on mailing it, just putting it out there in blog form.  While trying to come up content, my first gut reaction was to grab a newsletter from a more successful family and pass it off as mine.  After all, one cannot brag about ones ability to double fist frozen cookiedough and chocolate chips while breastfeeding.....

So here is a summary of 2012 for the McRidout family:

Arrival of Jo Jo: 

We welcomed our third child this April.  He hasn't done anything amazing such as create cold fusion or win a peace prize but he is sitting up on his own and boasts a total of 3 teeth.  He's got such a sweet smile that I'm sure he'll charm the creator of cold fusion into giving him credit hence earning me a spot in a nice retirement home.  He is my precious son, hence I have spoiled him rotten (I regret nothing!).  He's sure cute now but I'm sure it won't be when he's a toddler.  His real name is Joseph however, we decided that we should give him a girly nickname that should follow him well into university (Jo Jo isn't that bad, I use to call Lily gummi bear because she had no teeth).   

Oh yes he's cute now....

however at 2am in the morning when he's screaming because he hates his crib, its not so cute!

Arrival of the BAT (Big ass truck)

Oh yes, the truck.  As mentioned in previous blogs, much to my delight, my husband traded in our zippy Jetta for a Big Ass Truck.  Now I know how Jack's mother felt when Jack came home with magic beans.  Apparently a reasonable size truck meant big enough to house a family of four in the back to my husband.  This monster of a vehicle has pretty much condemned me to being a pedestrian since I can barley manoeuvre my stroller without crashing it into a wall (just the other day I ran over someone's foot in the mall, I'm pretty sure I'd get more then an eyeful of stinkeye if I did that with the truck).  The other issue is it is wedged between a fancy sportscar and a pole in our parcade which pretty much wife-proofs it.  It took me so long to figure out how to get it out of our underground parkade, that I forgot where I was going in the first place. Glug glug glug..what's that? I can't hear you over the sound of my truck.  Just watch your feet, I don't want to crush it with my carbon footprint! 
For more BAT chaos click here.

Sorry kids, I spent your college tuition on driving to the supermarket!

Lily turned 1:

It was a year of firsts for Lily. We threw a huge party to celebrate the occasion in February.  However once she hit that landmark she found out that getting old sucks (enter the arrival of her younger brother).  2012 brought the discovery of walking, which lead to running which lead to jumping which has lead to many time outs.  She also started to talk and, well hasn't ceased since.  She now speaks in full sentences and seems to be full of sass just like her mother.  It has created our nightly Mario games that much harder (have you ever tried to play Mario without using colourful language?-ask Dave what S word she learnt tonight).  We started going to Strong Start this September which has provided her plenty of opportunity to terrorise others in a new setting.

Here is Lily at her first birthday party

It's amazing how much they change in that year! here is her in Dec

Lily and Jo Jo

 Lily loves her new brother very much as long as he's not playing with any of her toys, interacting with any of her people or breathing in her general direction.  We constantly have to remind her that she has to respect Joe's right to exist.  Jo Jo adores Lily and finds everything she does hysterical.  In fact I overheard them laughing while I was putting my contacts in only to discover that she had coloured his face using a ball point pen.  While we were playing Mario tonight, we looked over and there was Lily, feeding JoJo water from the dog's dish while he was jumping in his jolly jumper (sure glad I spent all that time and effort sterilising his bottles..).  Lily also enjoys the opportunity to use JoJo as a scapegoat.  Quite often whenever Lily is being bad, her first cry of protest is: "Jo Jo did it!".

The Dynamic Duo

I SO will be employing this technique.  My only concern is that it makes it easier for Lily to distribute JoJo beats

Elijah turned 2

It's been two years since Elijah passed away.  We spent his birthday with my family and had a nice day at Squamish.  We decorated his grave site for Christmas.  As always he remains a big part of our family.  Miss you baby boy!

 

Sister got engaged

After finding this picture on google, it makes my romantic plane ride proposal suck

 Yes, I know it's not really my news but I'm running out of material.  Bottom line is that I got a new brother-in-law to torment.  I've been taking lessons from Lily and anticipating mastering the art of swirlies any day now.  They seem very much in love, which makes sense since she hasn't realised that husbands come with plenty of laundry.  Anyways there's a rumour of maybe a fly by night Vegas wedding so I've been searching the web trying to find her a mullet dress for the occasion.    


It's not class unless its in the form of a mullet

Dave got a new job

Dave started a new job that involves him working out of town for long periods of time.  We miss him while he is away but I don't miss the laundry and dishes that follow him.  Plus we fight way less with a province to buffer us.

Job Search

I've been trying to help out financially, especially since Dave was laid off for a few weeks in December.  I am still trying to find freelance writing jobs but so far no one has found me that funny.  I did however try to venture back in the land of the working and was able to land a job but wasn't able to make it worth my while (turns out people charge money for childcare, my kid's company isn't payment enough).  I have been adding extra income and exploring my hobby of getting rid of stuff by selling it on bidding wars.  I was able to fund most of our Christmas costs this way.  Yay me!!  My husband isn't that impressed that random things go missing in our house and he secretly fears he'll return home one day and there will be nothing but two pillows and a lamp left.

Running

I decided to get back in shape and since I have a complicated relationship with both time and money, running seemed to be the cheapest and easiest method to do so..  Up to December, I was running 10-15km twice a week.  I've done two races: the 10km Terry Fox run and the 10Km 5 peaks run.  Since December however I haven't been out running because Dave is working out of town but as I guiltily opened a bunch of running related gifts over Christmas, it's time to get back into it.  I'm hoping 2013 will bring some new races. 

and finally the biggest change of 2012:

I'm NOT pregnant.

How many just read the I'm and p-word (too scared to put the two together incase that's what causes it) and almost peed themselves.  I'm happy to announce the completion of the McRidout family.  In case anyone is interested, this is the longest period of time in our marriage where I haven't been pregnant.  I'm excited to try out normal people activities such as snowboarding, seeing my feet and eating lunch meat.

2009-2012, long journey but done!

Hope you enjoyed reading my year in review!

State of Davecation

As most of you know, I am flying solo until March.  Dave has followed the gravy train and it has lead him to Alberta.  I swear, he was running towards work and not away from having to deal with the family 24/7.  He's going to be gone for weeks at a time, so it's only natural that I announced our home to be in a state of Davecation.

*Yes, I am aware that I just announced that I'm home alone to the internet.  BUT I have a very large viscous cat and sleep with a very realistic model phaser under my pillow (not toy, after you turn 25 you call them models)*

So what does this mean?  Clothes in the hamper (not beside it), dishes in the dishwasher (not the sink and table) and less laundry (the man takes out a different dish towel for every spill..).  I tend to do less around the house as well since noone is coming home and asking me: "what have YOU done all day"- because I was in the same spot when he left the house (Spoiler alert: in my PJ's eating nachos).  Cooking and cleaning get reduced to minimal operations.  This is the closest to a vacation that a mom gets so I'll take it!

This is how I feel when I don't have to vacuum every other day

This is not the first time he's been away.  But all my Davecations have only been short.  I do miss my husband but I must say, the best times of our marriage is when we have a city or two to buffer us.

Last time I was on Davecation I spent most of my nights staying up late, watching Star Trek and eating nachos (since we have an abundance of salsa, see post on grocery shopping).  I also filled up my Iphone memory downloading Picard memes.
  I also embarked on a little hobby, because after the second night of memes I was getting a little stir crazy.
 I painted Lil and JoJo's second hand train set which I had bought for Christmas.  It was such a good deal but it had looked like it went through toddlergetan-apparently its last owner enjoyed smashing the trains against the wall.  I sanded the trains down and gave Thomas a sex change-hope he likes pink!  The first night of operation jazzify trains was a complete disaster.  Since the toddler was in bed, I assumed that I could leave my painting mess on the table.  I apparently forgot I own a cat. Day 2 of Davecation involved scrubbing acrylic cat paws off our new bedsheets.  The second day of operation "Jazzify Trains" resulted in an acrylic trail around the house. I'd blame the cat however the stronghold of the trail is on the fridge handle. On I side note: I love nachos.
The last day, I realized that I should really vacuum, at least once.  It ended up being an educational day:I learnt how to change a vacuum bag. I learnt that Dave bought the wrong bag size. I learnt you can't force a bag to fit:not with scissors, not with tape-Nope macgyvering a vacuum bag will get you a bigger mess than you began with.
Lets not forgot about my constant state of throwing away things or selling them on bidding wars for a dollar...

I'm surprised that he trusts me home alone or at least isn't a bit scared to come home.

So now I have full reign of the house.  I already decorated the house for Christmas, sold a few of Dave's items, but now...now I'm bored.
I could vacuum...
look for a job...
cook dinner...
be a mother to my kids...

NAW!

I think it's time for a prank.  Before Dave left for Alberta he was a bit down.  He temporaily forgot how terrible the kids behave (or is in a state of denial) and was a little worried about missing them.  Actually he was acting like he was leaving forever, moping about as I danced jigs around him...In fact, the kids were being utter thugs at the dinner table when he told me he was all sad that he got to eat at restaurants and would miss dinner time.  Really? Can I go instead? 

So I was thinking I should do something like in the movies where the hero returns to Earth from Space after a long journey only to discover that things are not at all like when he left.  Like the world has been taken over by bugs.  Something completely bizzare like when he comes home we're vegetarians...or worse Vegans.  So I have another few weeks to convince my family that vegetables are more then a way to layer meat...oh forget it, it would be easier to convince bugs to take over the world...

So I intend to enjoy my Davecation, or at least until the place becomes downright hairy with cat fur and I get tired of eating canned chili over the sink (or my parents get tired of myself and the kids).