Colder weather is here to stay and that means that dry hands are, too. Well, at least pour moi. My hands are so dry, they catch on the dryer sheets as I remove them from the never ending stack of laundry, needing to be folded and put away, folded and put away, folded and put away. * Sigh * Can anyone recommend a good hand cream? I seem to have tried just about every one and nothing seems to work well enough for long enough. And while we’re at it…can anyone recommend a good way to cut down on laundry without actually getting rid of one of the kids?

Scrap that.

I’m willing to get rid of a kid.

Ha.

Well, folks, we have another nibbler. I moved the mouse trap this morning so that I could vacuum the kitchen and mop the floors, too (I ended up saying, “fuck it” to the mopping, though because it was getting on lunch time and Julian sort of flips out if lunch is served too late and his nap gets pushed back and also because the girls will be home from school for their first PA day of the year so the floors will just have to cleaned again, anyway. Here’s a shout out to all you teachers out there…what do you actually do during those “Professional Activity” days? I have images of you all drinking Tequila in the teacher’s lounge and complaining about the worst kids in your class before someone finally pulls out a chalkboard and leaves it in the middle of the room so that the day can be considered “professional”. So, seriously…what do you get up?).

Right. That was a long bracket. I was about to yak about the new nibbler…also known as mouse number, um, four, I think. I caught one that I told all of you about. Boy, that was a mistake. Because apparently it is a “touch wood” situation. You know… where if you say it out loud… “Boy! I sure hope that’s the last of them!”…it’s bound to come back and smack you in the face. Or in the mouse trap, as the case may be. That’s right…not twenty four hours after that blog post, I caught another mouse in the trap in the kitchen. Two in a row. Until one of their pals (or maybe family members? Do you think mice read blogs? Do you think I tipped off a mouse about the whereabouts of their newly missing relative?) decided to go looking for his missing amigo (don’t know why I just made the mice Mexican…maybe I’m hungry for those little cookies by the same name?) which made a total of three. I was actually laying in bed, almost ready to fall asleep when I heard the tell-tale “SNAP!” and a little flopping, too boot (I really hope Kristy isn’t reading this…I’ll have to post my recipe for fake chicken noodle soup to make it up to her)….it was a big mouse… maybe the Godfather of the clan? I couldn’t help it…my heart started to pound even though, clearly, the mouse had to be dead. I then debated for quite a while whether or not to get up and empty the trap before turning in for the night. I decided against it, even though I was scared yet another member of the mouse Mafia would go looking for his leader in the night and I wouldn’t have a trap set. I was more scared of what would possibly be lurking in the backyard, where I dump the traps, in the middle of the night. I saw a skunk out there not long ago and I didn’t want to take a tomato juice bath before bed.

Since that last one, the traps and the bucket in the garage have all been empty. But now, a nibbler. So chances are another mouse is scoping the place out for food and shelter and it just figures that I would catch one when I am alone instead of having Troy in the house like I have the last two nights.

Ah, Troy. If you thought I had a lot to say about the guy before or that he was making my mood a shitty one, you have no idea. All of that was just the appetizer before the drama dinner. I am not going to blog about him, honestly this time. There’s nothing worth saying, really and I have made the executive decision to be DONE with it. No more talks. No more fights. No more tears. No more anything…I’m just going to put my caregiver face on and move through the motions because I can’t handle anymore bullshit. I won’t see him again until Friday night when he picks up the kids for the…

WEEKEND!

I haven’t had an alone weekend since the Nicolas Cage and bad art incident. It’s been, how many weeks now? Three? Four? Two weekends in a row, I know that for sure. And as much as I love, love, love my children, I won’t even begin to lie and say that I’m not looking forward to this coming weekend. I’m actually really pumped about it. Which might lead someone to think I have exciting weekend plans in the work… I assure you, I don’t.

I just need to sleep. Badly. A five or six hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep would do the trick but with the kids gone, it’s more likely that I’ll get eight, which will be nothing short of divine. Ask almost any parent of a special needs child, especially one with Autism, and we’ll all agree…we don’t sleep. One of the only benefits to being a single parent (and that would be a pretty short list, believe me) is that I do, every now and then, get a chance to get caught up on my rest. I intend to take this weekend as respite and do very little besides watch movies, sleep, read, sleep, maybe use my Mom’s highspeed to upload photos to facebook, sleep, and then I’ll probably take a nap.

Oh, and I’ll take a bath! A long, hot bath. Maybe two…one in the morning and one before bed. That’s the second hardest thing to do as a single parent…bathe. I try to get it done at night, after the kids are in bed and before I turn in but that’s almost impossible some of the time. And it’s hard for me to wash my hair in the tub because I can’t put my head under water thanks to Meniere’s. And Meniere’s plus sound of shower means I can’t hear a kid if they wake up, so that’s out. Thankfully, they are all so loud in the morning that I would probably hear them even if I was completely deaf (oh dear Dog, did I just jinx myself?!). But being able to get in the shower in the morning with the three loud kids running around, making breakfast, getting dressed and packed up to go to school is as hard as it sounds.

So, who knows? Maybe a hot shower first thing Saturday morning followed by a long, hot bath Saturday night? Maybe I’ll even treat myself to some bubble bath that doesn’t have Buzz and Woody from Toy Story on the front! Oh, the lap of luxury.

There may even be some more bad art creating…who knows? I sent some said bad art to Amy yesterday. It’ll be a while until she gets it because I took the slowest, cheapest way. Ha. I know she’d do the same for me. Ha again.

My weekend plans are sad, I know. But you know what? Sad as they might be…it’s all MINE!

And so, dear friends, I will log off and leave you with another line from a favourite John Lennon song of mine, “Beautiful Boy”.

“It’s a long way to go. A hard road to hoe. Yes, it’s a long way to go. But in the meantime…Before you cross the street, take my hand. Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans…”