I have found the answer to my babysitting dilemma: I pawned them off on Grandma! Why did I not think of this earlier? She lives just down the road, and she is now, my bestest, coolest relative in the world. Sorry mom, the mother-in-law won this round!

It is eerily quiet now. Hubs is off at work, the kids are being stuffed full of sugar and the damn puppy is finally asleep. I am almost lost, not having to wipe up puddles. Almost. So now, instead of hiding in the pantry, I am sitting here, with my wine and trying to relax by surfing the ol’ net. Imagine my delight and surprise to find I have been tagged by the fabulous, irresistible Kristen. My very first meme. She has popped my cherry, so to speak. So without any further ado, and before Grandma brings the tribe back, here it goes:

Accent – None, eh. We Canadjuns speak just like you Americans, dontcha know, eh?

Booze of choice – Any that is in my cup. Or in my pantry. I am not picky.

Chore I hate – Mopping the floor. Really, what is the point? It is not like we eat off it or anything.

Dog or Cat – A week ago I would have said dogs. Tonight, I am loving my purring pussy all the way. (My cat dear internet. Naughty people!)

Essential electronics – Computer and wash machine. Have you ever tried washing eight loads of laundry by hand? Do I look like Laura off of Little House on the Prairie?

Favorite perfume(s)/cologne(s) – Perfume makes my nose itch. Doesn’t it all smell like soap anyways?

Gold or Silver? – White gold or silver. But I will take either if you want to give me some.

Hometown – Edmonton, Ab

Insomnia? – Every night since Oct. 21. 2005

Job Title – Indentured servant to an unappreciative flock.

Kids? – Living or dead? Haven’t figured out correct response to that question just yet. How ’bout 2 who breathe and one who flies with the angels.

Living Arrangement – Not big enough for all my hubby’s nieces and nephews. But a pretty house, nonetheless.

Most admired trait – Apparently I am personable. Translation: I make others uncomfortable with my biting wit and odd sense of humor.

Number of Sexual Partners – Not enough to make any history.

Overnight Hospital Stays – A million nights in hospital to watch over my Bug. But none because of me.

Phobia – Dragon flies. Nature’s helicopters who like to buzz in your face. They dive bomb me any chance they have. Scary.

Quote – “Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.” Oscar Wilde

Religion – God and I are currently on the outs.

Siblings – One brother, who is a year older. One sister, who is three years younger.

Time I wake up – About fifteen minutes before the school bus comes rumbling down the road. Every morning is a mad dash to get dressed, make breaky, pack lunches and style kiddy’s hair. And I think I could squeeze it into ten if I tried really hard.

Unusual talent/skill – I can put my feet behind my head. The real reason my husband married me.

Vegetable I refuse to eat – Beets. They taste like dirt and they are purple. Gross in so many ways.

Worst habit – Chewing the insides of my cheeks until they bleed. I tried chewing gum, but I guess I am a bit of a vampire.

X-rays – Teeth. Knees. Facial bones. (A future post on why we don’t walk behind horsies.)

Yummy foods I make – Kraft Macaroni and cheese. I am especially proud of the consistency of the cheese.

Zodiac sign – Libra. Which means I always try to be the mediator. Which means I am always being told where to go and how to get there!

Well dear internet, that was fun! Whoo hoo! I’m not a virgin anymore. I am pouring myself more wine. I still have an hour before the terror squad comes back. Thanks Kristen, for thinking of me!

I tag Jellyhead, Mom-101, and Thumper.

My hubs and I used to live in the city. For three whole years. For me, it was fine. Nice. Normal. I grew up in the city. I like noise, exhaust fumes, listening to the angry arguing of the neighbors next door. My favorite hobby was going for walks at night and peering in through their windows to see how other people lived. (Don’t misinterpret, dear internet. I peered from the sidewalk, I did not creep through the bushes and press my nose against the glass. I am a redneck, not a perv.) For my husband, this was tantamount to torture. A transplanted farmer, with no farm. An unhappy match indeed.

So off to the country we moved. Five miles down the road from the family farm. Five miles down the road from his mommy’s apron strings. At first I thought this was a bad thing. I now appreciate this for the gift it is: a built in babysitter, and a fully-functioning, free restaurant. What is not to love?

There are drawbacks to living out in the sticks. We are miles from any hospital. Problematic. I have to drive the kids miles to the nearest child’s home for a playdate. No walking to the nearest convenience store for a treat. No Starbucks or Tim Hortons. And we live in a heavily treed area. I am just waiting for a forest fire, or for a tree to fall on my house.

The biggest drawback is my neighbors. For me, having humans living near me is a good thing. I can’t see them, but I know they are there. Comfort in numbers, right? It is me vs. Nature, and to be frank, nature is ahead.

My husband however, is annoyed because you can occasionally hear them. They have a teenage boy who likes to rev his engine (in more ways than one, I’m sure) and the parents aren’t the most happily married folks, if you catch my meaning. For those of you who need it spelled out: THEY SCREAM LIKE BANSHEES ARE RIPPING THEIR LIMBS OFF WITH BUTTER KNIVES.

But it was nice to take a piece of big city life with me, to here, my home out in the countryside. Until last night. When they kept me up all night, having a tractor orgy next door. I don’t know what the hell was happening over there, but until 3 a.m. large engines and chainsaws were roaring through the night.

My patience has run out. The gauntlet has been thrown. The white glove was slapped in my face. It is ON. How, I don’t know. But I do know, I am a city-girl at heart. I can outfox these hillbillies. I am going to make them wish they never laid eyes on this pretty, little redneck.

But it’ll have to wait for tomorrow. I need some shut-eye first.

**Stay tuned for the upcoming post of the time when the aforementioned Hillbilly neighbor peed on my slippers- while I was wearing them. I shit you not.**

When I got knocked up, I mean pregnant, I never fully appreciated how difficult a job parenting could be. I was primarily focused on the pregnancy, the hemorrhoids, and the delivery part. I trusted within myself and my man, that we could handle anything the little buggers, er, children threw at us. And we have. Perhaps not eloquently, nor with our dignity intact, but we have managed.

As they age, new challenges are presenting themselves. Right now, academics is a top priority. They missed a lot of school when their brother died. So we are doing the proverbial dog padde to catch up.

My son Frac, is learning French in school. He believes this makes him tres sophisticated. Of course, all it makes him is a redneck’s kid with a bad french accent, but who am I to kill his dreams? He came home yesterday with a previously completed school assignment which had a note attached from the teacher. Wanting to know if everything was alright at home?

WHAT??? My blood pressure rises, thinking my child is not doing as well as perceived. As I look over the french assignment I realize the problem. The assignment was a word scramble, where the kids had to make a correct sentence with the listed words, all jumbled up. At the end of the assignment, they were to use their own words and make up their own sentence. Not so difficult, right, dear internet?

Here is what my son’s homework said:
A bunny hops in the grass.
He has two long ears.
He has a white tail.
His nose wiggles.
He likes to eat carrots.
I will take him home.

Sounds good, right? He managed to unscramble and put the words in the correct order. With no mistakes. My son, the genius. So what’s the problem you ask?

WRITE YOUR OWN SENTENCE:
My son’s response: I shot the bunny.

Should I be worried, dear internet?