Please Allow Me to Judge Me on Your Behalf

The last time I posted about Pumpkin's ski lessons, I discussed how Pumpkin suddenly 'got it', and was skiing like a pro. Well, not quite like a pro, but doing it willingly, and somewhat properly. Well, things haven't exactly progressed the way that I would have liked.

Pumpkin does not look forward to ski day. I never let her back out of it, but she does often complain about various physical ailments every Saturday morning when she wakes me up with her infamous line, "What my doing today?!!" Yesterday's complaint involved a frog in her tummy. And so the bribery began.

Yesterday, I promised lunch at McDonalds just for going, plus a few chocolate eggs if she managed at least six runs. In addition, it has always been a given that I would buy her jelly beans from the vending machine at the ski lodge at the end of every lesson.

Pumpkin held up to her end of the bargain, so I grabbed her the jelly beans for her to munch in the change room, which is complete chaos if you want to imagine a small room filled with about 20 young kids plus their parents, all trying to undress and dress again in winter gear. Many of the kids were crying by this point, while their parents endured the stress of getting everything organized and packed up.

Other kids saw me pumping my kid full of junk while discussing McDonald's with her, and started to nag their own parents. One father went as far as to mention to me how healthily his family eats, and how his kids don't ever get McDonald's. One mother found herself helplessly giving in to her daughter's candy demands in the face of Pumpkin's good sugar fortune. I overheard some other parent say something like, "NO! We're going home for lunch!" There was even a note on Pumpkin's progress card from last week's substitute instructor saying, 'NO TREATS!' What's wrong with a tiny piece of chocolate at the end of a good run?

Sorry to the other parents, but my crappy parenting skills are what we need to get through this seven week session. Look for me on the hill though if you need me to hook you up with something sweet.

False Advertising

I bought a cookbook with the most appealing title: 30 Minute Suppers. Today I made my third meal from that particular book. It took me an hour to put together. The last one also took an hour, while the one before that took an hour and a half!

Apparently I need a sous chef.

A Logical Deduction

I have recently been marveling over how my pig-dog, Taz, hasn't stolen any food off of the counter tops lately. The stealing had been an ongoing problem with him that forced us to elevate all food products, including the compost bin, to heights over five feet. We occasionally, absentmindedly have put down our food at a lower height in order to assist a child with something, only to come back to an empty plate, leaving us wondering if we actually ate the food and just didn't remember. This sort of thing seemed to have stopped recently, and I attributed it to our training efforts.


A couple of weeks ago, we had Taz at the vet's to discuss how there seemed to be a lot of strain on his back legs. The vet found nothing wrong, but suggested glucosamine for arthritis. We gave it a whirl. Since then, we have managed to lose a plate of chicken nuggets, several bowls of cereal, at least one waffle, and a pot of rice.


It would seem that glucosamine causes dogs to disregard prior training, and cause them to gain weight. How's that for a scientific study?

We Sure Know How To Whoop It Up!

Tonight was date night, although it's sad that I say this in the past tense seeing as it is only ten past nine. My mom came over to babysit for a couple of hours, and we opted to go out for dinner instead of having our usual movie night. We made our reservation fairly late in the day, and ended up with a six o'clock seating, which was ok as we are getting used to the early bird special.

Dinner was all that and a bag of chips, but it was finished by 7:30. Going home was a bad idea since the kids were still up, and there was no point in even having a night out if we still had to participate in their bedtime routine. We decided that we had to find a way to amuse ourselves further, without having to ingest any food as we were already stuffed. Drinks were out too since hubby had to drive. Ah, the 'burbs. Anyhow, we decided on the local book store, which was open late enough to meet our need to peruse for a while.

Unfortunately, the book store shares a parking lot with a movie theater, and there was no parking. Hubby would rather stick needles in his eyes than drive around looking for a spot, so he declared our date over, and started driving home. On the way, we passed our usual grocery store, which was open! "Stop the car!", I insisted.

So there we were on a Saturday night, dressed up and looking pretty, me buzzing from the wine we just drank, loading up our cart with diapers, and Alphagetti.

And She Doesn't Even Live in a Bubble!

I got a call from the school this week on a day that Pumpkin was not in attendance. A slight panic took over my thoughts as I saw the school name on call display, for it struck me as a prelude to a meeting with the teacher, which isn't usually a good thing.

Au contraire, the call was not about anything negative. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. Every month, the school focuses on a particular, desirable character trait, and awards a student from each class who best demonstrates this trait. So guess who is getting an award on Friday for her continual display of exemplary 'optimism'?

That's right! My little girl is out there spreading her positive energy, irrespective of the house of sarcastic apathy from which she derives! Irrespective of my failed efforts to contain her spirit, which is sometimes a little extreme for me to handle. Irrespective of any rules or punishments that have been imposed upon her which undoubtedly, to her, seem like grossest injustices imaginable. So I take this moment of parental pride to brag a little. My ever lovin' first born is happy!

I'd write a parenting manual on the topic, but it would have to be titled, Winging It, and involve a lot of internet surfing, and store bought chicken nuggets.

Check Back Tomorrow. Please?

Sorry for being such a slacker this week. I do have a real post brewing in my head right now but I failed to turn it into anything publishable last night, and I'm about to embark on a two hour season premier of LOST, which may render me exhausted after eight months of anticipation. Don't wait up.

I Keep It in My Back Pocket!

My mom: Pumpkin, if you don't do as I tell you, I'm going to lose my temper!!!

Pumpkin: Don't worry Grandma! You can have mine!

THAT'S Why Everyone Watches It!

It has taken me over two years of watching the show with my kids to finally notice that Muno from Yo Gabba Gabba is basically a giant French Tickler. With one eye no less!

Mother of the Year Once Again

Pumpkin has been trained to stay in her room until 7 am every morning. This morning, she showed up by my bedside at 5 something. She wasn't particularly upset, but she said something about being scared, or not, as I wasn't really paying attention in my sleepy stupor. She said that she wanted to stay in our room.

In the past, whenever we have allowed Pumpkin to join us in our bed, she has only wanted to play, which is both annoying, and not acceptable at 5 am, thus she has never actually slept with us. I wasn't about to start this habit, so I said either go back to your bed, or sleep on the floor with Lucky. I figured that she'd head back to her room, and then I promptly fell back to sleep.

It's a good thing that we have cushy dog beds, because that's where Pumpkin was when I glanced over in that direction upon waking up two hours later. To make matters worse, she later told me that she had a bad dream about a bad guy named, Jason, who was chasing us. This is the first I've ever heard her speak of a Jason. She won't watch The Princess and the Frog, but somehow managed to catch at least part of Friday the 13th???

Wow I'm bad at this.

Still Grappling With Religion

Today Pumpkin asked my mom if my mom knew her when she was just a baby. My mom replied, "I met you on the day that you were born!"

Offended, Pumpkin stated, "I wasn't born! I'm Jewish!"

Imagining that Pumpkin had ideas of our people having been hatched or beamed down, I figured I'd try to clear things up for her. "You know, Sweetie, everyone is born. Jewish people too."

Angrily she retorted, "I'm not being born again! I'm Jewish!"

Maybe she does have a handle on this.

For the Record...

...I would choose Homer over Peter, provided that I wasn't going to cop out and opt for divorce or switch teams. Although both men are quite useless, Homer sometimes feels bad about the effects of his actions. Also, he and I would always have donuts in common. That's more than some couples have! In addition, I think that he would get along well with Pumpkin.

Yesterday, Pumpkin advised me that she knew how to make "the perfect drink".

"How do I make it?", I inquired.

"You take chocolate milk, and take parmesan cheese, and mix it up!"

Now doesn't that sound like a drink that Homer would enjoy?

This Relationship is Feeling a Little One-Sided

I'm not doing another post until I get a better response on my survey from yesterday!

Important Survey

Outta curiosity, who do you think would make a better husband, and why:

Peter Griffin of The Family Guy

or

Homer Simpson

If you don't know who either of these guys are, you are probably my dad. Dad, you don't have to respond. As for the rest of you, this post is in lieu of last week's delurking day, when I was supposed to call upon my loyal fans to leave a comment, just to let me know that I'm not yammering to myself day after day. If you really love me, you'll leave a response.

A Hair Raising Story

You know how some people pre-clean for the cleaning lady? I've been known to do that, although more recently I've said, 'screw it', and let my cleaning lady see us for the pigs that we actually are. I can't seem to maintain this same level of apathy for the dog groomer though.

Taz needs a grooming like nobody's business. There is a problem though. I haven't actually brushed him in about four months. Dogs like Taz should be brushed every week. This problem started when both of my dogs started a shed cycle at the same time, and I only managed to make the brushing time for my other dog. That left Taz to be neglected, until I recently decided to take him to the groomers due to his odor. I figured that I'd give him a couple of brushings first, so I wouldn't appear to be the lousy dog owner that I seem to have become.

Upon sitting down to brush him the other night, I noticed that he was so matted behind his ear, it seemed as if he had another ear growing there. It took me about half an hour to remedy that. Then I started working on his 90 lb body for a while. It honestly doesn't look like I've made a dent in terms of clearing out the shedded fur that is still stuck within his unshedded fur. That aside, there was a growing pile of fur on the floor, that was at least the size of a cocker spaniel by the time I gave up for the night. I guess I have a few more sessions of this before I can book him an appointment at the groomers.

The downside to all this is that despite my doing my best to contain and dispose of the mini-Taz that I created from all his stray hair, my house is littered with dog-hair tumble weeds that generally blend in with the floor, but catch my eye every time a door opens or someone runs by. This is unfortunate because now I feel this obsessive urge to pre-clean for the cleaning lady.

How's This for a Complete 180?

Do you remember last week when I posted about Pumpkin's ski lesson that was a tad disappointing in terms of either of us enjoying it? Well, I was determined to keep at it, as a life without family ski trips is a life not worth living, and I hafta say, I'm pretty glad that I'm such a cruel mother.

The whole week, I could tell that Pumpkin was dreading her lesson, and she was clearly feigning enthusiasm for my sake whenever I brought up the subject. When Saturday rolled around however, she couldn't do it anymore. The whining started, as did the bribery. Before we were out the door, I was already out about $40 worth of promises based on her not crying throughout the whole lesson. It didn't look like I was going to have to pay up based on how things began. Then something odd happened.

One of Pumpkin's peers decided to get a practice run in, and Pumpkin decided that she wanted to do the same. As we started hiking up the astro turf runway, Pumpkin's whining escalated to levels comparable to the previous week. When she reached the top, she obligingly pointed her skis downhill, and had a 20' run. She didn't cry. She didn't frown. She actually laughed excitedly and asked to do it again.

I dunno what happened, but I wasn't going to question it. When the instructor started the lesson, Pumpkin only had sparkly smiles for him, which left him totally perplexed based on the guilt he felt from her petrified misery from only one week ago. Then she asked to go on the chair lift to the bigger hill!!!

Can I tell you how surreal it is to be on a ski lift with my own four year old, who is still pretty much a baby in my mind? This was actually the part that I was fearful of. Without the high-tech lifts that I'm used to, I wasn't sure that I'd be able to help her on and off the chair without landing us in a tangled heap, while lifties shout at me for being such a moron. I managed ok though.

As for the actual descent, it was amazing! I had Pumpkin on a harness, but gave her slack such that she could get a little speed and momentum for turning. She seemed to actually be getting the hang of it! Even when she fell, she didn't get upset. She just laughed at me while I tried to get her back up without taking a tumble myself.

I'm so excited about my Saturdays now!

Wasted Wish

While my mom and Pumpkin were at the mall today, Pumpkin tossed a penny in a fountain and made a wish. "What did you wish for?", my mom asked.

"I wished that mommy and daddy would be good!", was the reply.

Good at what??? Whatever she meant, disappointment seems inevitable.

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!