It's a Good Thing I'm Too Lazy

Yesterday was the first day that I was able to eat normally since I came down with a stomach virus one week ago. Consequently, I have lost a bit of weight. It's really just a few pounds, bound to return any minute now, but for the time being, I'm a little lighter than usual. Naturally I love this fact, despite my not being overweight to start with.

Yesterday, a friend of mine came by for a visit, and after sitting with me for a few minutes stated, "You've really lost weight this week!" She didn't say it like it was a good thing. She said it with concern. Immediately, I began to reply with a "Thank you!", but managed to stop myself. Why did I immediately jump to the conclusion that I was being complimented? I can blame society for most of it, but it's amazing how my thought process has been influenced after a life time of not looking like Barbie.

It's like I have an unmotivated eating disorder. I would never deliberately make myself throw up, unless I was trying to stop the bed from spinning, but last week, on the morning after I involuntarily tossed my cookies, I hopped on the scale, looked at the abnormally low number for myself, and thought, 'Woohoo! Too bad I have to hydrate.' Sick, sick, sick!

Do not fear for me though. Tonight I was back to scarfing down a bag of ketchup chips while watching an intellectual two hours of American Idol. Obviously, being unmotivated is not limited to my eating disorder.

Saturday's Mom is Full of Rant

Cost of replacing electronic key for leased car six months ago:

$175.00

Cost of finding lost key in my ski jacket half an hour ago:

Five self-imposed smacks on the counter top with my forehead

Cost of just discovering that neither Chichi's nor Pumpkin's stomachs are entirely settled from our ongoing plague:

Two more loads of laundry

Cost of disclosing information about my children's lingering illnesses to tonight's babysitter:

Babysitter running for the hills; me having to give up my ticket to tonight's Leaf's game; hubby being instructed to take one of his friends

Cost of being married to a man who didn't try too hard to find someone to go with, and then decided on his own to give away both tickets so he could spend the evening with his icky kids and pissy wife...

Definition of Masochism

A few weeks ago I got the idea to enroll Pumpkin in ski lessons in an effort to get her up and running such that we could eventually claim some of our regular life back. Ski holidays have become a fantasy rather than an annual plan, and I am hoping to change that. Anyhow, today was our first lesson. I wasn't expecting total compliance, and had to bend the truth a little bit to get Pumpkin to the hill, but I did manage to get her there.

The hour lesson was not unproductive, but boy was it a whine-fest. For the most part, the kids had to walk up a 50' piece of astroturf, then ski back down, with the help of a couple of instructors. Every time we got to the top, I took off for the bottom to get away from the whining, and left Pumpkin to the instructors to deal with. The kid was pretty much paralyzed with fear, but did manage to make her way to where I was standing with her knees sort-of bent, and her hands sort-of on her knees. Then there came the complaining.

"I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!!!!"

"We have to Sweetie, the teacher said so." I always retorted, escorting her back to the astroturf, wondering what kind of clout a ski instructor carried in Pumpkin's mind.

The whining escalated into shrieking, but I kept getting her back up the 'hill', and practicing how to maneuver around in skis on a gentle slope, which has to count for something.

When we had put in our full hour, I suggested going inside for a snack, which was a prelude to my other promise of McDonald's for lunch, being my initial bribery attempt. Neither McDonald's, nor skiing seem ideal on a week that began with a stomach virus, but Pumpkin could do with a few calories, and I'm too cheap to skip an expensive lesson. Besides, I didn't really believe that the ski lesson would be much easier on a healthy week. Next week I'm bribing her with a trip to Claire's for something shiny instead of McDonald's though. It should be much less insane.

The McDonald's that I chose had only been open for a few weeks, but it had a playground in it, which was the main draw for Pumpkin. Little did I know that today was the grand opening, and that the 'Dirty Clown' himself was scheduled to be there at the exact time that we got there.

THE PLACE WAS A FUCKING ZOO! There were at least 1000 people in there and I'm not exaggerating! The second we walked in, we were handed a balloon, which is kind of annoying because Pumpkin wanted to keep it, but didn't want to carry it. There was a DJ yapping over a loud speaker, playing Lady Gaga or whoever, adding noise pollution to the already impossible to hear anything air. I was trying to find a table while carrying our order, and a balloon, all the while trying to hear what Pumpkin was crying about, which I think pertained to her Happy Meal toy, but I can't tell you 'cause it was too fucking noisy!

I thought for sure that Pumpkin would want to skip the VERY crowded playground, that no doubt exceeded fire regulations, but I was wrong. Despite the play structure being in a particularly small room that had to be shared with a face-painter, and despite all the kids lining up for said face-painter, and despite the dozens of parents clamouring into this overstuffed room to take pictures of their kids, Pumpkin still had to go in.

I was there on this day, at that time, purely by accident. WHY THE HELL WAS EVERYBODY ELSE THERE??? Is the grand opening of a fast food joint really the kind of quality time people want to spend with their families? Do they think their kids want to see the goddam clown??? I think about 99% of kids are actually scared of clowns, and probably 50% of adults! Did they really all leave the comfort of their homes to stuff their kids in a tiny play room in hopes of a great photo op? Really? REALLY???

Excuse me now while I go crack open a bottle of zen.

Stomach Virus, Day 3

We're still in recovery mode over here, so I'm scraping to find something amusing to offer up, unless you think that Hubby joining in on the stomach virus last night is funny, in which case, you're one sick puppy. His illness actually made me feel envious, as I watched him dive for the washroom without his having to worry about the kids, and then stay in bed for 24 hours straight. Some people have it good.

I am actually feeling ok. I haven't eaten much, but I did dream of licorice allsorts during a nap , so that must be a good sign. Pumpkin pretty much created an imprint on the couch today, eating nothing but a processed cheese slice and two crackers while she lay there for the entire day. She kept insisting that she was perfectly healthy so that I would take her to Claire's, her new favourite store, which is pretty much the mothership of "Something Shiny!" She barely ate or moved all day, but she SWEARS that she felt perfectly fine to go shopping. I do respect her motivation, but as an effort to be a good mother, I'm holding off on that one.

Good times!

I Had a Good Excuse...

Chichi has been a little under the weather this week, mostly in a good mood, but turning out some pretty gross diapers. Yesterday as hubby walked in the door, I jumped up, told him that I seemed to have Chichi's disease, and ran for the washroom in the basement. Welcome home, honey! It all went downhill from there.

I had taken to the guest room to stay out of the way, and Chichi was ready for bed, so all that hubby had to do was contend with Pumpkin. Except things didn't go that way. First off, Chichi's soother was missing, so she was freaking out in her crib. Hubby, in a mild panic, told me that he couldn't find her 'owie'. Owie is the word used by my friend's son for his blanket, and is not a word typically used around here. Our blankets are 'giki's', and our soothers are soothers. Regardless, I was looking for the wrong thing while intermittently running to the washroom.

Meanwhile, back in Pumpkin's world, she had gone to bed complaining of a sore tummy, which culminated in her pretty much painting her bed and the walls with the contents of her stomach. She was really upset, so I set in motion the cleaning process, while also looking for a blanket that wasn't lost, while continuing to intermittently run to the nearest washroom. Both kids were crying, while we tried to get it together. Hubs called my mother to see if she knew where the owie was, but her reply was, "Leave me alone! I'm busy throwing up!" Virus confirmed.

It had finally happened to me. This was the low point in parenting that I had read about in books that was supposed to be a story reserved for fiction, or at least something that only happened to other people. I guess we had a good, long vomit-free stretch, if nothing else.

Eventually, Hubby said he was going out to buy an owie, which seemed odd, so I figured out that he meant a pacifier, which I was able to produce within ten seconds. Ok, I had one down. Then it was on to cleaning Pumpkin's mess, which proved to be a never ending battle as the night went on.

If you happen to have the storage space, I highly recommend that you purchase three or four discount beds-in-a-bag for just such an occasion. I cannot believe the amount of linens we have gone through over here! The washing machine has been running since about 9pm last night, and it will probably be running until bedtime tonight.

Forgive me for not having posted yesterday.

Guess I'll Try Again Tomorrow.

The bad news is that I can't think of anything amusing enough to write here. The good news is that while I have been sitting here staring at a blank screen, I have managed to catch up on all my physiotherapy exercises that I often neglect. And I ate a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. And I've made a decision about tomorrow night's dinner. This has been productive. Thank you.

Not Much of a Stretch

I have always admired Pumpkin's ability to live in her imaginary world. I admit that it periodically causes me to question her intelligence, but then I scold myself for being too jaded to appreciate childhood, and try to follow along instead.

Typically she roll plays with her toys, but lately she's been trying to involve me in her games. I kind of hate it when she makes me pretend to be a ballerina and dance around my living room, and don't you wish you had a secret video camera in my house, but today's game was much lower key. Today, the game was simply, 'Mommy and Daddy'.

I was designated the Mommy, and my instructions were to sit in front of the computer while drinking a cup of coffee, while Pumpkin played the roll of the Daddy. She then proceeded to pick up the paper, held it up in front of her so that she was completely hidden behind it, started calling me 'Tania', and continued on making mundane conversation.

Hubby and I really need to be a little more interesting in the mornings.

Woo Hoo!

http://www.thestar.com/living/article/743950--the-big-bum-theory

Dancing Bananas, and I'm Not Judging

Do you ever find yourself watching the hockey game, and wonder how it is that the players can skate by the Viagra ads on the boards and not giggle and snicker? The announcers don't even make jokes. It's not that I have the mentality of a 12 year old, which I do, although it is not relevant in this case. It's just that it is such a blatant, in-your-face, advertisement for erections, which basically have only one purpose, at least that I know of. Please don't tell me of more.

It isn't really a secret that times have evolved to accommodate today's mentality, but it also isn't a secret that sex is a private issue for many, and often not to be discussed in mixed company. I'm sure that there are hockey fans amongst these shy/private/religious/whatever reason groups, who don't necessarily want erections mixed in with their sports. Sounds like a bad combo, actually.

I'm not saying that Viagra shouldn't advertise, as I think it's great that the need for drugs of such purpose can be openly discussed and marketed, but I still marvel over how boldly the word, "Viagra", can be displayed in such a public venue.

Think about the movie, The Gang's All Here, a film from 1943, where a 'banana dance' was suggestive enough to get the film banned in Europe. Apparently, being a musical, the film managed to avoid being banned in North America, but still! We used to frown upon the dancing banana. Now we are accustomed to seeing marketing geared towards giving everyone their own personal, dancing banana!

So back to the game, does anyone know the score?

Turning Back The Clock

I wake up and see that it's only 9:37 am. "Too early", I groan, and roll back over to catch at least another hour of sleep. Waking up for a second time, the clock shows a more acceptable, 11:13 am, and I give J a nudge. He partially arises, if you catch my drift, and we spend the remainder of the official morning ensuring a good start to the day for us both.

Having 'slept' through breakfast, we decide to head out on a walk in search of a light lunch. Meandering up the street, we choose from our wide selection of local restaurants. The choice is based on our own cravings, irrespective of the wait. We eat at a leisurely pace, not leaving until we feel like it, then make our way home without real purpose, wandering into local art stores and candy shops.

Once home, we mess around on the Internet, read books, snack, nap, and occasionally engage in a repeat performance of our wake-up ritual. Eventually we start talking about dinner or movie plans. If we opt to eat dinner at home, an assortment of appetizers from the freezer does the trick. If we opt for a movie, it's always the late show.

After two days of this exact routine, we have the nerve to feel exhausted, and complain about our busy work week ahead.

If only we had known back then that the week-end just passed would be our only-in-our-dreams vacation nine years later.

If you'll excuse me now, I have to get myself to bed so I can wake up in the darkness of the morning, feed the kids and dogs, clean the kitchen...

I Mean REALLY!

Dear Coyote, Fox, Stray Dog, or Whomever,

I appreciate that you guys have to eat, and that the rabbits in our neighbourhood are probably the best choice for a meal, but let's talk about manners here, ok? Could you not have taken the whole thing back to your den where you could eat in peace?

Did you have to leave a very recognizable body part in the middle of our road where I have no choice but to pass it every time I come or go? I do accept that my innate, morbid curiosity draws me to stare at it more than I really should, but ideally I would rather not have the temptation practically on my door step.

We have to walk our dogs by it; we have to explain it to our four year old; we have to block the imagery of the actual 'incident' every time we pass by. This is the stuff that nightmares are made of!!!

Perhaps this letter will encourage you to be a little more careful, or possibly consider tofu? You can leave pieces of that wherever you please. I'll even spring for some Tofurky over the holidays! Think about it.

Sincerely,

The House of Mac and Cheese

Eventually They Outgrow the Princess Phase, RIGHT???

Over the week-end, I took Pumpkin to see Disney on Ice. It was their Princess Classics show, entailing an abbreviated version of all the usual suspects in the princess world. I hate this stuff. I really do, but Pumpkin loves it, so I endure it 'cause I'm such an selfless mother YO!

I know that Pumpkin doesn't 'get' the romance part of these fairy tales, but she knows that getting married and kissing is something that princesses do. In fact, tonight while SHE was giving US a goodnight story, it ended with her marrying one of her teddy bears, doing some sort of dainty dance, following it with a long embrace. Ugh. How is this my child?

Anyhow, she watched the whole show, clutching her Snow White doll throughout. We sat through six princess stories, each of them having a happy ending, and each of these happy endings involving a handsome prince who saves the princess from danger or despair. Love was so in the air, happiness was abound, fairies were singing, laughter filled the air. I supposed it all got to be so much that Pumpkin started making out with her Snow White doll.

Do I even need to describe my discomfort?

My Next Job Should be at Ikea

My plan for last night was to assemble the wooden play-house that I bought the girls for their final night of Chanukah. I knew that it would take a while, but I had the evening to myself as the kids were in bed, and the Huz was too ill to spend time with. Yes, I wanted to take care of him, but he is such a lousy patient that it's better for our marriage if I just avoid him during times like these. Trust me.

I figured I'd be done by 11 or so, but I accidentally got caught up watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and couldn't tear myself away. It was 10pm by the time I started the task of building the house. I figured it would take about two hours. I was so wrong.

It was three and a half hours later by the time I was finished. You'd think I would have been cursing a blue streak by that time but you'd be wrong. I think it was some of the best personal time I've had to myself in I don't know how long. I had a chance to focus on one task for an extended period of time, listening to some tunes, and not being interrupted. That's probably why I kept at it until completion, rather than calling it a night when there was enough structure built to make the kids happy enough. I was having too much fun to quit!

So do you need me to come build your play-house?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

Whether it be for Christmas, birthdays, or no reason in particular, the spirit of giving is such a powerful thing. I cannot describe to you the warmth that I felt tonight when I gave my wonderful daughter's their gifts for night seven of Chanukah.

Chichi showed about half a minute of interest in her toy until she started angrily throwing pieces of it around. Pumpkin had already abandoned her gift and was messing with Chichi's new toy, making Chichi whine and cry harder. I had to threaten Pumpkin with the removal of her own toy to get her away from Chichi's. Pumpkin, defiant as ever, let me count to three, at which point her brand new doll that had been in her possession for all of five minutes was whisked out of her hands and stuffed in a closet until tomorrow. She didn't care at the time, but boy did she care at bedtime!

Both kids went to bed in tears tonight. I do so enjoy the holidays!

It's Time to Work on Multi-Tasking

Over the week-end, I was at a local shopping centre with Pumpkin, who had dragged me there because of a banking matter. She had just received a cheque from her Zaidy for Chanukah, and was so excited when I told her that the bank could turn the cheque into five dollars for her piggy bank. The cheque was worth a lot more, but five dollars in coins brought her as much joy as a million of them. Ahhhh childhood....

While we were at the mall, we ran into one of Pumpkin's friends, who was there with her family. The two little ones took a moment to socialize at the colouring station that was set up by the lonely Santa, who wasn't drumming up much business, aside from occasionally waving at Pumpkin, who had no intention of getting anywhere near him.

The older sister of Pumpkin's friend was happy to watch the two girls playing together again, as they have not seen each other since the summer. The sister suggested that Pumpkin come over for a playdate. Pumpkin replied, "Well, I can't come over until another day because right now I'm celebrating Chanukah."

That's right folks, it's all Chanukah, all the time, for the entire eight days. I wish I had such focus!

Oh Crap!

Hmmm, ten o'clock. I think I'll have my evening shower, and drag hubby to bed with me.

Oh crap, it's garbage night and it's my turn.

Now I'll grab my shower.

Oh crap, I have to make Pumpkin's lunch for school tomorrow.

Now I'll grab my...

Oh crap, I have to give Lucky her eye drops, and Taz his liver pills.

Finally, I can...

Oh crap, all the bedding is still in the dryer, and guess what? It's still damp!

At least I can grab that shower while the dryer is running.

Oh crap, I haven't done a blog post.

I'm going to have that shower now, cap off the night by making the bed, and then jump in by myself because IT'S TOO FRICKIN' LATE!!!

Sigh.

This Post Has Nothing to Do With Me.

A friend of mine is a member of a gliding club where she pilots the tow plane that takes the gliders skyward. She took a couple of cool pics that I thought were good enough to share, so what better place than on my blog, where almost no one will see them! Without further adieu...


Click on the images to make them larger so you can fully appreciate the effect of the gliders in the rear view mirrors. Too bad the resolution isn't good enough to see the distraught faces of the glider pilots who are being towed by someone who is taking pictures rather than flying the plane...

Must Feel Refreshing!

I promised that I'd offer up four posts a week, and don't know if I'll be able to find the time to post during my upcoming, extremely busy week-end, so you are either stuck with my observing my dog scratching his butt on our fresh supply of crusty snow this morning, or my depression over the new facebook security that has officially ended my stalking career.

You've gotta admit, it IS a good way to take advantage of our miserable winter!

Holy Customer Service!

In keeping with my quest to bring back the music, I decided to set up an iTunes account. I was skeptical about putting my credit card number 'out there', so I came up with the idea of buying a gift card from a 'real life' store, and then using it as my payment option when setting up the account. It seemed like a great idea, until I wasn't able to make it happen.

I entered all the pertinent information, but the card was deemed invalid. I tried it a day later, and got the same response. I called the store that I bought the card from, and they assured me that they had activated it. I tried several more times, but no dice. Finally, I set up an account using my credit card, and then tried to redeem the gift card after the fact. Kinda defeated the purpose of the gift card, but I wasn't going to give up on the $25 already spent. When I attempted to redeem it, I was informed that the card was already redeemed. WTF? Great. I was already anticipating the hassle of dealing with customer support.

I sent off an e-mail, and was informed that my case would be dealt with within 48 hours. Surprisingly, it was! Somehow, probably during one of my supposed failed attempts at setting up the account with the gift card only, I managed to create an account under a different user name. This meant that I set up two accounts, one with the gift card, and one with the credit card. All in all, I would say that this was my fault. I felt stupid, and sent back a note saying, "Thanks, whoops, sorry!", and then went on to redeem the gift card. Apple done good, as far as I was concerned.

Today, I got another e-mail from the same person at Apple's customer support, thanking me for the opportunity to assist me. Then as a show of good measure, she told me that she is giving me a credit on my account for one free song download. Good measure??? Really? Wasn't I the one who messed up? Then I looked for the credit on my account, and saw that they had given me five credits! Five free songs because I'm too much of a tool to set up an account properly!

Then, I got another e-mail from another person, exclaiming that they were so pleased that they successfully sorted out this matter for me.

I was reminded of the self-satisfied doors from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy:

“All the doors in this spaceship have a cheerful and sunny disposition. It is their pleasure to open for you, and their satisfaction to close again with the knowledge of a job well done.”

As the door closed behind them it became apparent that it did indeed have a satisfied sigh-like quality to it. “Hummmmmmmyummmmmmm ah!” it said.

I Got free stuff though, so I'm not complaining.

Repressed Road Rage

Yesterday I packed up my kids into the car and drove off to visit a friend of mine who lives a half hour away. I hadn't been there in a while and inadvertently ended up taking a different eastbound road than usual. I wasn't entirely sure that the cross street that I was looking for came as far north as the road that I was traveling along, but I didn't say anything. It is weird though that being 1/2 a km too far north took me from a landscape of endless urban sprawl to serene farm land. At least for now.

Anyhow, I ended up missing the street that I was supposed to turn on, but simply made two right turns and headed back to towards it. There was no panic, there was no reason for Pumpkin to notice anything seeing as she has never travelled the usual route to this friend's house. Why then, did she turn into the most annoying back seat driver imaginable?

"Are you sure that this is the right way?", she asked.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes.", I replied again, although I wasn't entirely certain that my detour would work.

"You sure?"

"Yes.", I answered again, becoming agitated at her asking.

"Sure?"

"YES! Now please stop asking", I requested, wondering if I'd have to backtrack to the main highway.

"Are you sure?"

"GAAAAHHHHHHH! YES, THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY! DON'T ASK AGAIN!"

"Are you sure?"

Do you have any idea how hard it is not to swear at someone during a conversation like this?