Viva My New Career

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'm going to do with myself once the twins are in school. It's still a couple of years away, but let me tell ya, entertaining three kids under five all day, like I do, would cause any mother to ponder her future--- post haste.

My main issue is that I'm not sure that I can get a work permit for occupational therapy here in Canada. There has to be a pressing need for my skills that a Canadian can't meet, according to immigration. And I'm shocked by the number of allied health professionals here in Ontario. Just this morning I read in the paper that 180 people, all physical therapists, occupational therapists, and psychologists, are being laid off in my area, due to financial cutbacks.

Considering I spent six and a half years and over a hundred grand in loans to get my master's degree in OT, I'm a little bummed.

The other night Ward and I were watching Idol (again. I resisted the show altogether until this season, and now I can't look away. Damn that Sanjaya.), and a commercial came on to recruit school bus drivers. We listened to how bus drivers get to stay home in the summer, and that they're home when their kids get home, blah blah blah. As an adult, certainly appreciate the (mostly) fine people with whom I will entrust my children to as they ride to and from school.

That being said, I don't know about you, but the kids in my school did nothing but taunt the these poor people, until they pulled the bus over to scream at us. Sure it was a little daring, but the bulging eyes and neck veins, the spittle flying from their lips, was more than worth the risk. I was sitting there, on the couch, thinking about how I'd rather poke my eyes out with a fork than put myself through that, when Ward turned to me and said,

"You know? Maybe you should..."

I cut him off before he could finish.

"What!? What? I should drive a bus? What don't you drive a bus, Dr. Cleaver? I worked as hard for my education as you did, and just because I'm not Mr. Big Doctor Man like you are, doesn't mean I get to be the one to drive a bus!!!"

So I was a little defensive...

Fast forward to yesterday. My friend Christine called:

"Hey! Jack (her son) saw the school bus that Alex will be riding next year, and he wanted to know if Alex was on it. So I said no, and he looked at the driver and yelled, 'Hey! That looks like June driving the bus!! Is that June?!?!?!"

I told my Ward all about it, and to say he was smug would be putting it mildly.

Guess I'd better start getting used to yellow.

Listen Up!!

Go read this. I beg you. Make sure you're on her 3/22/07 post. I'm still wiping the laugh-tears off my face.

Wordgirl, why can't you live next door to me???

Mommy's Censoring Skills Need Some Work

Her lyrics may be salty--- she's an addict and not ashamed of it--but she's honest, real and man can she sing. I have Amy Winehouse's new album playing over and over again on my iPod and in my head. She's a mix of Etta James, Ronnie Spector and Fiona Apple, and it's taking me ever ounce of control I have not to belt out her songs while the kids are around.

So I've been singing in a whisper, out of earshot from Alex especially, since he could hear an ant pass gas in the woods.

While I straightened my hair this morning, I softly sang, "They tried to make me to go to rehab, but I said no, no, no..."

Even though I was two rooms away, and The Backyardigans were on full blast, I heard a small voice call, "Mom, what's rehab?"

I've now taken up humming.

The Day I Almost Made Good on My Threat to Sell Them to the Gypsies

My trip with the kids to the grocery store on Friday was a brief glimpse of what Hell is like. The twins were hitting and smooshing each other in the cart, screaming and crying and laughing. Alex entertained himself by asking me (very quietly, so I had to stop, bend down and listen each time) such questions as, "Mom, why isn't fur blue?" Once or twice I'm okay with, but by the tenth time in as many minutes that I had to do this, with the screaming toddlers to boot, I was about to blow.

I noticed the store was selling kid's umbrellas, and since I know spring's rainy weather is about to hit, I picked up one for each of my sweet somethings. Of course, at the time, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had effectively just armed the twins. I got thwacked in the face a few times and cruised to the checkout.

Once outside, the twins had to have their umbrellas up, because Alex had his up. So I had to basically do a backbend while steering the cart through the parking lot, to avoid getting jabbed in the eye again. And of course, I couldn't see a damn thing, so I used my keyring to set off my alarm and locate my car.

Once there, I opened the hatch, loaded in some groceries, and said to Alex, "Okay , Buddy, in you go." He obediently started to climb up. The twins were acting up again, so it took me a second or two to hear a woman saying, so softly, "Excuse me. Excuse me?"

"What? What!?" I looked up and saw two women sitting in the front seat.

"Ah, I think you have the wrong car," she said, almost apologetically.

Sure enough, I was loading my food and my kids into someone else's car.

My car, the same make and model as hers, was in the next aisle over, parked nose to nose with hers.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I stammered, "Oh. Sorry! Want some groceries? Ha ha!"

"Um, no thanks, we're going in right now to get ours." At least she was laughing.

"Oh, okay," I said. "Want some kids? Ha ha!" I looked down, and Alex just scowled at me.

She climbed out of the car, well dressed and about my age, with a wistful look on her face. "I'd love some kids like yours."

She wished me a good day, and set off to the store. I watched her go in, then looked back at my kids, suddenly grateful I have them to drive me crazy.

How Andrew Lloyd Weber Probably Started Out

For the past two weeks, Alex has been fascinated by rhyming.

"Mom! Mom! Beer and Clear!! They rhyme!"

"Great, honey," I said, and threw my beer bottle in the recycle bin.

Tonight after his shower, he began to dabble in songwriting. Behold his talent:

"Run! Run! As fast as you can!
You can't catch me,
I'm the Pee Pee Man!"

Catchy, doncha think?