Saturday, March 3, 2012

Who Needs A Mood Ring?

Or how I can determine my current mood via Kijiji...

I probably visit Kijiji once or twice a day (obviously my vices in life are online places inwhich I can spend money, atleast in my head) usually for either livestock, antiques, a new farm dog, or, rarely, fluffy cats.  When the fluffy cat searches start showing up in the internet history we have a problem.  It's time to bust out the liquid Prozac, or something. I noticed today that I was searching for cats on Kijiji, and then ventured over to PetFinder to look for more when that failed.  And I thought to myself, what on earth is wrong with me?!  Then I remembered.  We are a one vehicle family until next weekend.  Both of our families live a fair distance away from us now.  These items alone are total non issues.  But the biggest little had a really rough go at the last school she was at and spent the first half of grade one sans friends, anyone to eat lunch with, or to talk to.  This was tough (read: devastating) for all of us.  So we were super relieved when we moved here and the kids in her class were fantastic! Within the first week in her new class she had three friends and her first invitation to a friend's birthday party.  She was beyond stoked.  She coveted that invitation for weeks.  We RSVP'd. She showed everyone.  We discussed what we would buy as a present and what she would wear (not only was this a party, it was a Monster High DRESS UP Party!!!).  Then. Friday night happened. Mr. Pretties, god rest his soul - I mean god BLESS his soul, haha, yeah...*cough* moving on...  announced that he signed up to work overtime on Saturday (today) and wasn't that great.  Sure, I mean it's always fabulous when I say 'Hey, Mr Pretties don't forget the little has a b-day party of extreme importance going down on Saturday so clear the day...and whatever you do, do NOT sign up for overtime.' and then you come home and announce you're going to work and all of the littles excitement is dashed. I'm stoked! Who wouldn't be?1And you know who else I think would be stoked?! The little.  So why don't you go outside and let her know that the party she's been coveting for the last four weeks is now a no go.  Let me know how blowing up that rainbow works out for you.  He forgot.  Straight up. And there was no way to back out of work and no one else could take the little to the party. It was tragic.  I might be over exaggerating, but seriously, it felt (feels) tragic. 

No one explains to you that being a parent means spending a fair amount of time wanting to punch yourself (or your spouse. just saying) in the face repeatedly to distract yourself from the all consuming acidic guilt of disappointing your children.  And the more children you have the more opportunities you have to experience this great pleasure.  Over and over. So needless to say we feel like vile puddles of the worst parents ever and I've found that this directly corresponds to how I use  (abuse?) the internet.  Th is is how I rate my moods based on Kijij searches:

Antiques = Woo!! I love this house so much I'm going to pretend that I can totally afford that $1500 jam cupboard that we'd have to drive to Quebec to pick up!! Wooooo! Think of all the sweet ish I could put in that puppy! I'd have to buy more antiques just to put them in the cupboard because normal stuff wouldn't be good enough!

Livestock = Yay me! We live somewhere where these things are a real possibility! Who wants a cow?! Me! That's who!! Mozzarella, Farm Cheddar, Riccotta, butter... I'll be kicking some regular dairy ass! Hazzah!!!

Fluffy Cats = Boo... Can't quite pull myself up off the floor of suckingness. Man, a jam cupboard would be heavy. And I'd probably have to paint it, or put something in it. That sounds like a lot of work. I'd also have to go out in this craptastic weather to milk the cow, and I'd probably just spill the milk on the way back to the house... I don't even like cheese... but fluffy felines! I don't even have to get out of bed to enjoy that, and they totally don't care if I don't get dressed ever again, and they're free. Free fluffy balls of happiness. I'll take a dozen. But I'll need them delivered as I can't get out of bed, or get dressed or anything...


  1. Ouch. And then ouch again. With a double helping of guilt. Been there, know the pain.

  2. Oh Jenn, don't worry, in regards to your statement
    to your statement about parental only gets worse. Just the other day my 31 year son told me he forgives me for not spending any time with him filling out colleg apps as he probably wasn't really college material anyway!! He sorta forgot he was STONED his entire 18th year and no one got thru to him about anything until he joined the Navy. Now he is happily married with a great job making twice as much as I ever did. Does he ever thank me for being the one who called the navy recruiter? But Nooooooooooo. Ah well. Its OK. My grandchildren love me and I only have to pay them $5 a week to tell me so.