Mermaids and Wiggles

Blogging, to me, is becoming a bit like cooking. It's not that I dislike blogging the same way that I dislike cooking, but if I am going to cook, I want the meal to be fabulous. Making something fabulous, however, takes more effort than I have time and energy for, thus I don't cook as often as I should. My family does expect to be fed at some point though, which means I will eventually heat up a frozen pizza or barbecue pre-packaged meat-on-a-stick, and serve it up. I guess I'm trying to say that this post is the equivalent of pre-packaged meat-on-a-stick. Better than nothing?

This week I learned that duct taping a mermaid to the washroom wall is not enough incentive to get Pumpkin to do #2 in the toilet.

Even though she knows that the reward is to actually get to play with said mermaid, she will leave the washroom to go crap in her pants in private, then return to the washroom to talk about the mermaid. I do, however, enjoy the opportunity to showcase my '80s wallpaper, that I'm sure will come back in style if I leave it up there long enough.

Friday, Pumpkin went to the Wiggles concert with her Daddy and Grandma. I happily stayed home, missing the chance to see the joy on Pumpkin's face, but also possibly avoiding puking on the shoes of the people around me. The Wiggles have made me ill before, and I'm sure that they wouldn't hesitate to do it again. I also knew that there wasn't a guarantee that Pumpkin would love the concert. Her responses to many gifts and events have so far been somewhat underwhelming, so it was possible that I wasn't going to miss much. It turns out that she enjoyed the concert well enough, but the only thing that she wanted to tell me about when she came home was that the train was broken and that she needed a better one. I'm glad that her first time on public transit left such an impact!

That's my life this week. All potty and play, all the time. Woohoo!

The Birthday Recap

I didn't get the watch, but had a pretty good birthday regardless. The day started off with balloons, streamers, those party favour things that you blow into, and party hats. This was hubby's answer to my complaining about there being no hoopla about my birthday. Kind of a rude awakening actually, but Pumpkin thought it was hysterical, and it was very cute overall. We invited two other couples and their spawn over for dinner, and enjoyed watching three little girls dress up in princess costumes then turn the house upside down. We haven't had a lot of evenings where we socialize with other couples and their kids. Usually we dump our kids on my mom and get out for grown-up time. Family socializing seems to be fun for the kids, but the adults never actually get to talk to each other. Oh well. Only one thing got broken, and dinner was tasty. My annual birthday Indian food feast never lets me down.

Today hubby took me out to buy me my gift. As mentioned above, I did not get the watch, but technically, it is still owed to me. When I was pregnant with Chichi, I found out that we were having a girl, but hubby didn't want to know the sex of the baby. I knew that if I did not ask questions pertaining to having a boy, he would know it was a girl, so I inquired about things such as the circumcision, the potential boy's name, and started sentences with, "If we were having a boy...". I asked girl-related questions too so it didn't appear that I was trying to make him think it was a boy, but somehow he got it in his head that it was definitely a boy. Any time I steered him towards thinking it might be a girl, he thought I was just trying to keep the secret alive instead of having him "know the truth." Realizing that he would not be swayed from his belief, I asked him what kind of "push present" I could have if it was a girl. Naturally he told me that I could have whatever I wanted, thinking that it was irrelevant. I told him that I wanted Uma Thurman's watch, but added that he should get it for me regardless of the sex since I was kind enough to be birthing his child. He said that I could only get the watch if I produced a girl. Hee hee. One day I'll collect. For today, my new earings will do! Is this not the most superficial babble you've read today?

It's the Gift that Counts!

So here I am, on the eve of my birthday, hangin' with my dogs while the kids are sleeping. A few years back, I would have been jumping out of my skin on this particular occasion. I've always loved my birthday. As a child, it was the anticipation of gifts, as well as the belief that the whole day was about me. As I got older, it became about the anticipation of gifts, as well as the belief that the whole day was about me. I don't know where the excitement went, but somehow this day managed to sneak up on me and I hadn't really noticed. Sure, my family members have been asking me about gift ideas, and Pumpkin is jumping for birthday cake, but I'm not feeling it the way that I used to. It has nothing to do with getting older either. I'm where I want to be at this stage in my life, so my age really doesn't bother me. I think I'm going to blame my husband. This morning he mentioned my birthday, and asked me what he could get me. I can't believe that he is only asking today instead of having spent the last two weeks planning a special surprise. He always asks instead of trying to surprise me, lest he make a bad choice. The truth is, I'd rather be surprised, but only if it's a surprise that I want. Maybe I'm the one to blame. Nonetheless, I'm going to give hubby a hard time. My mom can't babysit on my actual birthday, so she offered to babysit tonight such that hubby and I could catch a movie. He already had plans to play poker, but he said with a look of guilt and sadness that he would go to the movie if I wanted him to. Naturally I told him to go play poker such that he doesn't resent me for suffocating him in a deathtrap of a marriage, but really I think he should have insisted on the movie. Now he's going to be sorry that he is giving me the opportunity to pick my own gift. Do you like this watch?:

I could learn to love my birthday again.

Happy Happy

The universe has delivered. Back when I registered Pumpkin for pre-school, I decided on three days per week, which proved to be a mistake. I should have enrolled her for five, but I was worried that she would feel rejected due the new baby on the scene. Well, after experiencing just how long a day could be with both Pumpkin and Chichi at home, I started looking for some other sort of program that I could ship Pumpkin off to. Nothing really compared to a solid three-hour morning of school though. Then the best thing happened! Someone dropped out of her school on the days that Pumpkin wasn't attending! Yup, I'm rejoicing over the fact that some other child in the class probably suffered severe separation anxiety and had to give up his or her spot. I scooped those days up pretty quickly. Woohoo! Excuse my lack of compassion, but I've gotta look after my family and sanity first and foremost. I love spending time with Pumpkin, but when we are stuck at home, we tend to run out of things to do, and end up resorting to watching videos. Once the videos get boring, Pumpkin then resorts to tormenting the dogs, or whining up a storm. I guess I'm never actually "stuck" at home, but I can't say that I always have somewhere to go. All those friends/playdates/parties that I planned on for this stage in my life; not so much. The fact that my social life is a wash shouldn't be Pumpkin's problem. She should be happier now too.

I Don't Want to Complain, But...

I am a lucky individual. I am healthy. I don't live in an impoverished, war torn or hurricane ravaged country. I have a happy marriage with two beautiful, healthy children. My parents are alive and healthy. I have a lovely home. We can afford nice cars and other luxuries. That being said, can I reserve the right to complain, if only for a teeny, tiny moment, about my cleaning lady phoning in sick on the week that I am expecting twelve people for dinner on one night, then another seven guests over the week-end?

Not Dressed Up with Somewhere to Go

Had we known how much time we would spend as adults looking for car keys, sunglasses, etc., would we have been so inclined, as children, to always be playing hide-and-go-seek? Just one of the many deep thoughts that I come up with each day.

Taking off from Kittenpie's post about the misery of dressing the postpartum body, I would like to add further complaints. Right now, my body is thinking of returning to it's regular weight, but hasn't quite reached this ultimate goal. For the time being, I wear old jeans that were always too big for me, and an assortment of large t-shirts that I purchased during my previous postpartum wardrobe woes. Overall, I have succeeded in being not naked, which you should all be thanking me for. I look schleppy, and haven't cared too much until recently. This look is starting to create a problem for me. I keep getting invited to events that require me to look nice. For the most part, I refuse to buy clothes for this current body of mine. To me, buying clothes right now is like admitting defeat. I do NOT plan to spend much time in this current shape, and I will NOT appease this shape by trying to make it look nice. Then last week, there was an unveiling for my late mother-in-law, preceded by a nice dinner with some relatives that came in from out of town. Ripped jeans were not gonna cut it. I tore through my closet to find anything that would go over these unwanted curves of mine, and managed, with the help of a pair of Spanx, to look like I was at least trying. Spanx are great if breathing isn't important to you. I was in a bit of pain, but I got through the two events, and thought, phew! Unfortunately, my relief was short lived. We are now in the middle of the Jewish High Holidays, three of which days require me to dress up nice and attend synagogue services. I'm using the breast-feeding excuse to get out of actually going to the synagogue, but there are still extended family meals to attend, where everyone still has to look nice. Yesterday I re-used an outfit from last week, and today I'm just sayin' "fack it!". That's not really what I'm sayin', but I don't usually swear in full on this site. That brings me to the three weddings I have in this upcoming month. They aren't black tie, but I know that I can't get away with the current wardrobe, with the exception of the Halloween wedding where we are encouraged to wear costumes. If it fits, I might just go in my slutty pirate outfit. What? You mean you don't have one of those too? As for the other weddings, I asked around for something to borrow, but came up short. Literally. My friends are all taller than me. I had no choice but to admit temporary defeat and buy something. So sad. Anyhow, if you are having an event, and I can't attend dressed like a bum or wearing my new, black evening dress, don't invite me. It's too stressful.