I'm Touched By Your Concern

Well thanks for the outpour of support and concern regarding my exploding head.  One flippin' comment! You all suck!  Except for Freya.  I still like you.

I am typing after having mixed meds with booze.  Probably not a good combo but I only have two hours left to post, and I'm not getting any smarter.

No, my head did not explode, but once again, thanks for asking.  Over the counter meds have carried me through, although the second that they wear off, my eyes darken, my sinuses fill up, and I turn into a puddle of misery.  I'm fun that way.

Anyhow, my day was busy, but not terribly interesting, so I'll leave you with a tidbit from the past:

Pumpkin:  "Why do we have to walk to camp?"

Me:  "Because camp is close by, and driving makes the planet dirty."

Pumpkin:  "What happens when the planet gets dirty?"

Me:  "Well, if it gets too dirty, we won't be able to live here anymore."

Pumpkin, looking concerned:  "So we'll have to live with aliens???"

Good Weather Saves Your Tax Dollars

Nobody reads this on the week-end.  Traffic isn't too crazy on a week-day, but week-ends are exceptionally slow.  I could probably post nude pictures of myself today and no one would see them.  I'm not going to chance it, but still...

So how did good weather save your tax dollars?  I woke up this morning after an incredible night's sleep.  By that I mean NINE hours.  Pumpkin slept at my mom's, where she woke up at 5am, but back at our place, Chichi slept until 9am.  Sorry Ma, but it was totallly worth it at this end.  Anyhow, despite getting ample sleep, I was still crusty, smurgly, and all things gross.  Based on previous experiences, I determined that my cold had morphed into a sinus infection.  I am a total fan of drugs, so I headed out to a walk-in clinic to get a prescription for whatever would turn off the 'colourful ' faucet that is my head. 

Getting out of the car, I realized that it was a nice day for a change.  Once inside the clinic, I was told that I would have a one to two hour wait.  That is actually a pretty good wait, but I kept thinking about the nice weather outside, and weighed it against the fact that my eyes were bugging out by two inches thanks to my sinus pressure.  Nice day...head exploding...nice day...head exploding...NICE DAY!!!!  I forfeited my spot in line, ran to the pharmacy to load up on whatever would help, and went home to play.  My head has not yet exploded but the night is young and I've maxed out my sinus pills.  If you don't hear from me tomorrow, you'll know what happened. 

'Cause Everyone Wants to Hear About Body Hair

For the a full year after Chichi was born, I didn't take the time to get my eyebrows professionally shaped.  I figured that I could just do it myself and save myself the time.  I'm also uncomfortable booking spa-like treatments, for reasons I don't quite understand.  I assume that it's a combination of shyness of making the call, and space issues during the treatment, but whatever the reason, I don't enjoy the process.  Anyhow, after a year of self maintenance, my eyebrows looked kind of odd to me.  I was actually too embarrassed to have them done professionally until I grew them back enough to hide what I had done.  Apparently I didn't wait long enough.

The woman who eventually got my business looked down at my brows as I lay vulnerably on her table,  and curtly stated, "Your eyebrows are a mess!"  Maybe this is why I don't like spa treatments.  I'm a big fan of self-deprecation, but hearing it from someone else, well that just mean!  Then she inflicted a great deal of pain on me with only a thread, and told me that it would take about three months to make them look good, and that I MUST not touch them in between treatments.  Do you know how difficult that is when I've got renegade eyebrows working their way down my face?

Today I looked in the mirror and was startled by two angry looking caterpillars staring back at me.  How did they creep up on me like that?  I made a call to my 'Eyebrow Nazi', but she can't see me until next week.  Too bad Halloween is over.  I could have gone as Martin Scorsese.

Off Switch?

It is day three of laryngitis.  I haven't been able to read Pumpkin her evening story, which has her somewhat annoyed with me.  So as not to be outdone, she came home from school with a plan to teach me a lesson.

"Pumpkin, what did you do at school today?"

"I can't tell you Mommy.  My voice is turned off."

OMG COULD YOU PLEASE SHOW ME WHERE THE SWITCH IS!

If only...

Whatever it is, I Don't Like It!

I didn't like to eat anything as a child.  I would always take one or two bites of whatever was in front of me, and then announce that I had a stomach ache.  That used to piss my mom off royally.  To be honest, I don't like a lot of foods now, but I am at least mature enough to force feed myself for the sake of nourishment.  I still kind of regard lunch with resentment as being such an annoying thing to require smack in the middle of the day.  I'd rather take a hypothetical food pill and be done with it.

When I was about three or four, my mom took me to a pool party at her friend's house.  It was a party for adults but kids were accommodated for in terms of food.  When it came time to eat, I looked at the hamburger on plate, folded my arms across my chest, and stated, "I don't LIKE hamburgers!"  Kindly, the host offered to make me a hotdog.  When I looked at the hotdog on my plate, I folded my arms across my chest and stated, "I don't LIKE hotdogs!"  Annoyed, the host went on to make me a sandwich.  When it was handed to me, I folded my arms across my chest and stated, "I don't LIKE sandwiches!"  At this point, the host just turned to me and shouted, "YOU'LL EAT IT AND YOU'LL FUCKING WELL LIKE IT!!!"  My virgin ears!  My mom thought this was pretty funny, given that this was her everyday battle.  However, my mom also thought it funny when I used fridge magnets to spell the f-word, so her amusement may possibly have been more of a function of the '70s than pleasure derived from someone else having to deal with my picky eating habits.  Maybe a combination.

 Pumpkin obviously comes by her bad eating habits honestly.  Including French toast, there are only three possible dinner options for her, and tonight she rejected macaroni, which might mean that we're down to two.  She even professes to dislike food that doesn't exist, such as the plopolop fruit in a book that we read recently.  It even extends beyond food.

I bought her new pyjamas.  She cried, "I DON'T LIKE TO WEAR THAT KIND!"  I showed her the moon last night, and she said, "I DON'T LIKE THAT KIND OF MOON.  IT LOOKS TERRIBLE!"  I'm not sure what's up with that.  Lately she doesn't like Kindergarden.  She also doesn't like one of our dogs.  She doesn't like her bedspread, and she REALLY doesn't like to watch Mighty Machines.  I pity the fool who turns on the Treehouse channel when they're playing Mighty Machines.

Do they have hypnosis therapy for four year olds?

Keeping it Positive

The smurglies are still kicking my butt, which is preferable to what they're doing to butts over at the Urban Dictionary, so maybe I shouldn't complain.  I figure that today would be a good day for reflecting on the positive things, rather than the fact laryngitis has been added to my list of ailments.  As it turns out, angrily whispering the phrase, "Shut up or I'll beat you with a stick!", does not qualify me as a dog whisperer.  So yeah, lets look at the good stuff.


Pumpkin actually drew something that looked like something!  Visual arts don't exactly run in the family, but I was starting to imagine myself getting a call from the teacher about Pumpkin's lack of skill:


"Hello, Pumpkin's mom?  I'm concerned about Pumpkin's inability to do anything but scribble."


"Is this a real problem?" 


"Well, she is in grade 9..."


Yeah, so we've gotten over that hurdle.  Out of the blue, she started drawing people.  When I asked her who they were, she replied, "Customers!".  Ok, so we've still got a few quirks to deal with but they seem so minor now!


In other news, I decided to get Chichi the H1N1 vaccine.  I will probably do the same for Pumpkin next week when she is in better health.  Thanks to all the media madness about the mayhem at the vaccination clinics, I went well prepared with an arsenal of snacks, drinks, books, DVDs, and a sense of resignation about how bad my afternoon was going to be.  As it turned out, I was in and out of there in 30 minutes, and that included the 15 minute recovery wait. Kudos to the town of Markham!


Next, on the way home from getting the vaccine, I came up to an intersection where my light had just turned green.  For whatever reason, an elderly lady with a walker decided to cross against the red light in the other direction.  Quickly, the very handsome man in the snazzy sports car in front of me turned on his hazards, abandoned his car, and escorted the lady across the street to safety.  No one honked, no one was hurt.  It's nice to see a little display of humanity every now and again.  It didn't really matter that both the man and his car were pretty, but it does add to the whole Prince Charming effect.  Good karma to you and your family, whoever you are!


And finally, there is NeoCitran.  Good night. 

Smurgly

Smurgly is apparently a Macedonian word that describes how one feels when one is coughing and sneezing up everything under the sun at the tail end of a cold. Do NOT look it up in the Urban Dictionary as they have a different definition that I would NEVER speak of on this site, or in every day conversation for that matter. I never would have thought of it, actually. I do realize that I provided the link, but don't look it up. Really. I was innocently doing a quasi spell check when I stumbled onto it. But I digress.

There is somewhat of a plague upon my house right now. Pumpkin had 'a' flu last week, which was, according to much of the media madness, 'that' flu, given that it is too early for it to be seasonal flu. We quarantined her in the guest room for a few days, where she watched more TV than anyone should be willing to admit to. Her doctor had no time to see us, and the walk-in clinics and ER's would have been insane, so I kept her home and watched her. She was her usual self most of the time, so we just weathered it out with a bottle of Motrin. Since she was fever-free by Saturday, I did take her trick or treating, but left Chichi home with hubs, just to extend their time apart. Just as well, since a 16 month old in a Winnie the Pooh costume would have scored me about 20,000 calories that I probably wouldn't have shared. So does anyone want a free baby-sized Winnie costume? It's only been used for a 5 minute photo opp.

Anyhow, now that we are past fevers and barking coughs, we seem to all be somewhat smurgly from a cold that followed suit. Looks like it's going to be a long winter.

Here We Go

When I signed up for NaBloPoMo back in November of 2007, I felt like a part of a community. Most of the bloggers that I read were doing it too, and we all signed up to suffer together. That community has somewhat disbanded. Posts are few and far between these days, with me being one of the worst offenders. My readership may be down to a few friends and family members, but I just don't feel ready to throw in the towel just yet. I figured doing a post a day for a month will either indicate to me if I've got anything left, or if I need to work on my singing career instead. You'd better hope that I've still got some writer left in me. Even my daughter screams at me to stop singing when we're in the car. Where else am I supposed to practice?

I've actually let quite a few bloggable things go unblogged over the past few months, which will hopefully give me the fodder that I need to fill those days when nothing else amuses me. Here's a good one:

Back in August I was having lunch with my mom's friends, a well-intending, wealthy, yet pushy couple. They were harping on me to get a nanny, which doesn't make sense to me seeing as I quit my job in 2006 so I could do the child rearing from start to finish each day. This is not always fun, and certainly not glamorous, but it was what I signed up for. Keep in mind that my mom helps me out quite a bit each day, and if I had a nanny, she and my mom would be fighting over who gets to wipe Chichi's butt at the next diaper change. Freeing up my mom's time was probably the main objective of this couple's argument, although my mom doesn't actually want to abandon her post over here. Honest! You can ask her.

After almost a whole day of receiving disapproving looks every time I mentioned being tied up with my kids for one reason or another, I finally asked the couple why they cared one way or another about my not having a nanny. The husband of the pair replied:

"I just think it would be great for you to experience the freedom that is motherhood."

(blink, blink)

Yeah, I thought that you would like that.

Don't Leave Me!

November should bring you at least a brain-fart every day! Stay tuned!

Yet Another Post About Cereal

The first time I ever went camping was when I was 10 or 11. We camped at Lake George, NY, in a pop-up trailer. I'm not quite sure why we went there instead of one of the many beautiful spots on this side of the border, but I do remember my stepmother making a run to Montgomery ward to buy a microwave oven, which would have been much cheaper in the U.S. back then. I guess that was enough to draw us State-side.

During this trip, I had a blast. I loved camping, eating outside, playing with the campfire, playing a five hour game of risk, visiting a couple of amusement parks, playing Pac Man in the building at the front gate of the camp ground, and whatever else we did. I remember excitedly telling my mom's friend about my trip and how much I loved it. When she asked me what I liked best, I replied, "Breakfast!" My mom's friend nodded in agreement, and talked about the beauty of eating breakfast outside in the cool morning air, birds chirping, dew on the grass, etc. I then replied, "Well, actually, it was the amazing American cereals that made it so great." I was of course referring to Cookie Crisp, or my other poison de jour, Dinky Donuts. I seemed to have a strong appreciation for foods made by Ralston Purina. No wonder I'm so short.

Anyhow, just before labour day, I took Pumpkin on a one-night camping trip along with my friend and her four year old daughter. It was supposed to be for the whole week-end, but the weather was crap, so we opted for just one night so as not to disappoint and cancel altogether. We did our best to busy the girls with the campfire, playing at the beach, cooking hot dogs, going to the playground, going for ice cream, playing 'house' in the tent, and taking long walks in the cold, pre-autumn rain.

Just last week, Pumpkin started talking about the trip and asked to go camping again, which really delighted me. I asked her what she liked best about camping, and she replied, "Eating Corn Pops!"

And so we begin a new generation of fond childhood memories formed around a box of sugar. Could this be hereditary?

This is No Longer a Rant

"Hi, T, this is K, the principal of Pumpkin's school. As you know, the Ministry is enforcing blah blah blah, and now that we have an issue at the school due to blah blah blah, all the jr. kindergarten students in Pumpkin's class are being redistributed to the other JK classes. Consequently, we'll be changing Pumpkin from a Tuesday/Thursday class to a Monday/Wednesday one."

"Sure, no problem! I'll just pull Pumpkin out of her Monday and Wednesday morning preschool since they have a waiting list and won't be able to move us to Tuesday and Thursday, and I'll cancel her Wednesday afternoon swim lesson that she isn't completely fond of anyways. I love the idea of having nothing scheduled for her for four and sometimes five days per week. It will give us so much more time to bond!"

(commence banging head on wall)

Some time over the course of the next four hours, one of the confirmed Tuesday/Thursday parents called the school and asked to be switched to Monday/Wednesday. As you can imagine, I opted to swap, and promptly started humping the leg of the other parent.

As if My Bragging About My Body Wasn't Enough...

If my last post was me taking one for the team, this one is certainly a product of inspiration. Today...I found love. It was in the form of a retail affair, but I know the real deal when it hits me. Had I done this post about eight hours ago, I would be gushing about my shopping high, and praising the universe for delivering me to such a perfect store, but since then, a dentist has drilled my face, and my kids took up whatever enthusiasm I had left. So I'm back to being me. Nonetheless, it was the best hour of shopping in my entire life.

As a general rule, if I find something that actually fits me well, I buy it without hesitation. This is because I don't get a lot of shopping opportunity sans kids, and because my short torso makes me somewhat difficult to find clothes for. If I had an actual calculated shopping budget, I would never get close to maxing it out. I'm just a bad shopper. When I do get in the shopping mood, I try on zillions of things, usually to return home with maybe one or two. Today I attacked this never before visited store and pulled about ten things into the change room. Everything fit! Everything! I got excited. REALLY excited. I had to have it ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

I worried a bit about justifying it, seeing as I don't actually earn money or anything, but I was able to work it out well enough. You see, hubby doesn't buy himself a lot of clothing, or typical things that people pamper themselves with, but he did recently buy a Cylon, or something as obscure from a Battlestar Galactica auction, and a few other things that are still in boxes and making me a bit nervous. This is kind of the equivalent of the Cylon, right? I figured I'd at least call him and let him know: "Hi baby. I'm at this store that was MADE for me, and there are so many things that I LOVE, so I figured I could scoop 'em all up for my birthday and save you the stressful shopping trip you'd eventually have to make". I heard him smile, and that was all I needed. Guess I'll be taking one for the team again tonight, eh? God I'm such a cliche!

Daily Affirmation

Wow, blogging is starting to remind me of marital sex. The less I do, the less I want to do. Sometimes to get the ball rolling again I am either struck with inspiration, or I end up taking one for the team. Well team, here I am.

Following in the footsteps of Danigirl, I finally decided to visit one of those fancy lingerie shops that I have always avoided due to being cheap, and due to fear of being cupped by a stranger. Buying bras is typically an unrewarding purchase for me. No one really sees them, and they tend to cost a heck of a lot when you can't fit the cutesy stuff at La Senza., I did figure that a fitting was in order since every post-baby woman who posts something on the topic always seems stunned to find out that her perceived 36Bs are actually 34Ds. I wasn't too far off. I traded in my old 34Ds for 32Ds, which is a good thing. Not only was there no cupping, and not only do I have less girth than originally thought, but I have now become bra sisters with my friend in Victoria. Hey friend in Victoria! I can hook you up with some good support the next time you visit! Truthfully, I would prefer to be your size 2 butt sister, although I'd like it to happen without all that marathony stuff that you do. I'll set that as my long term goal. The butt, not the marathon.

In all seriousness, I'm not looking to change shape. I am about to speak one of the most obnoxious things that you've ever heard a woman say. I'm kinda happy with my body. It's true! I'm not perfect in any way, shape, or form, but if I judge my body on a bell curve, I'm doing quite well!

I look pretty much the same as I did in high school, but I hated my body in those days. Back then, I wasn't very high up on the bell curve, but instead had a lot of curves of my own. My friends were all built like 10 year old boys with boobs. Me, not so much. I may have even been five pounds heavier than I am now. That doesn't sound like much, but it seemed to look like a lot. I believe that my brother can attest to this based on the "compliment" that he gave me recently. He said, "You know, you look really good! Based on how you looked when you were 17, I figured that your body would be a complete mess by this stage in life."

Hey ladies, in case you're looking, he's available....

Anyhow, now at age 36 with two kids, I'm feeling pretty good about the way I look. I hated my non flat stomach when I was younger, but now it's almost to be expected. Did you see what my stomach went through? And due to what I would call extremely rapid growth during puberty, I never had boobs that saluted the sun. Guess what! I still don't! But did you see what my rack went through? You probably didn't, but you can imagine, right? I'm sure that the average woman who endured the same has to hike her rack up a couple of notches higher than she used to as well. How about the dark circles under my eyes that were regarded with concern by teachers who were worried about my home life. Now that I am a mother of two, I'm supposed to have them! They've almost become something to brag about!

So there it is: I'm good enough; I'm smart enough; and gosh darn it, people like me. Sort of.

Working Holiday 2009

I've been taking a bit of a break lately, partly because I was on vacation, and partly because I am still recovering from said vacation. With our crew of a 4yo, a 1yo, two dogs and a shortage of dog-sitters, the typical vacation choice for us is a week-long stay at a cottage rental. This was our first attempt since Chichi came along, and was also our first attempt on our own, as our usual cottage companions were unable to join us. Overall, I would have to say that this trip was a LOT of work. We knew that it would be, but we also know that it's important to do things together as a family, which we seldom do. Equally important is that our children have memories of such events so that they can reflect back on their happy family life at some point in the future and at least acknowledge that their parents made some sort of effort, be it half assed or otherwise.

As with the majority of my stay-at-home mom days, the week consisted of about 10% priceless moments, and 90% getmethefuckouttahere moments. Every morning I looked out at the chairs on the dock, wishing that while wearing pajamas and a hoodie, I could sit and enjoy a steaming cup of coffee while looking out over the lake. Instead, every morning I had to deal with the constant whining from Pumpkin, along with the intense, yet necessary helicopter mothering of Chichi, who only wanted to play with fireplace pokers and matches. It was also difficult to impress upon Pumpkin just how important it was to be outdoors instead of sulking on the couch in the cottage, demanding videos. I always gave her a video if she was cranky, in hopes that she would pass out on the couch, but that never happened. Chichi wasn't much of a napping superstar either. She was usually awake, tired, and wanting to disassemble whatever she could get her hands on. I would be lying if I told you that I didn't at least once a day say to myself in exasperation, 'this would be so much better without kids.' Yes, I love them, and they enhance my life, but dealing with a double tantrum during a rain storm at the cottage does not come close to comparing with the fun that hubby and I used to have in the wilderness during bad weather, even if we were confined to a leaky tent.

The neighbour was a single mom, had a 4yo girl and a dog, but was smart enough to bring a nanny. Her trip seemed a lot more enjoyable. A couple of times I saw her on the porch, feet up, reading a book. Oh the things that I have learned to envy! An extra pair of hands, or even just an extra pair of eyes would have made a huge difference. I'm still grateful for the family time that we had though.

The week was not without it's priceless moments. Pumpkin made great use of the lake, and enjoyed swimming with the neighbour's daughter. Chichi seemed taken by the scenery, and enjoyed her first go at eating sand, and loved splashing along the shore line. We got Pumpkin out in the canoe a few times, where the conversation wasn't always what I had hoped for, but was still a positive experience. I'm glad that they like the outdoors because if we can swing it one day, we plan to have a cottage of our very own. A cottage that doesn't have stray pieces of Risk and Sorry strewn about the place that Chichi seems to have a radar for. A place where we don't have to cringe every time a dog scratches a wall, or eats a table cloth. Yeah, we seldom get our security deposit back.

...and we can spin our heads right around too!

Many, many years ago, I attended a party where I met a guy named Mike. It wasn't a hook-up or anything, but we had a conversation, although nothing particularly noteworthy. The next week, Mike inquired about me to our mutual friend. He couldn't remember my name, but using his most eerie voice, and wiggling his fingers in a spooky manner, he referred to me as "That girl with the EXORCIST EYES!"

I have to admit, my eyes are probably my most memorable feature, or so they were before my raccoon-esque dark circles decided to envelope most of my face. My eyes are blue, and my complexion is kind of olive, (dark circles notwithstanding), so people tend to notice them (the eyes, not the dark circles). I had always thought it was a positive thing, but that exorcist comment certainly put a new spin on it.

Chichi doesn't have a dark complexion like mine, but her heavy mop of black hair contrasts strongly with her light grey/blue eyes. In addition, her eyes are so large that she often appears to be a somewhat stunned. Based on the attention that this gets her, I naturally assumed this to be a good thing, without any parental bias, of course.

Yesterday, Hubby was out pushing Chichi in the stroller, when a small boy came running down the path towards them. When the boy got close enough, he stopped in his tracks, pointed at Chichi, and with a look of concern exclaimed, "That baby's eyes are SCAAAAARY!"

Glad to know that I've perpetuated my 'creepy' gene.

Cycling Vancouver to Calgary Revisited

Lately I've noticed that I've been getting a lot of hits from people searching "cycling from Vancouver to Calgary". I posted my essay on my own trip here and here, so I won't repeat myself, but I figured I'd let you know that I used this company to tour with. I don't see the same trip being offered right now on the web site but their other tours look pretty cool. Also, you should know that cycling such a distance really REALLY hurts. That's all. Good luck.

Head in the Sand

Many of you are starting to bore me. It's not your content per se, but your lack of content. Most of the mainstay blogs that I read aren't publishing a heck of a lot these days. Even worse, very few are commenting on my half-assed efforts to stay afloat in the blogasphere. It's that immediate validation of my work that keeps me motivated to write more, I must confess. This has led me to stray, and explore new avenues. The problem is, I'm an escapist. As an escapist, I avoid bad news to the best of my ability. I scan the headlines for stories that won't send my brain screaming into an abyss of depression, and weed out the ones that will. That's probably irresponsible on some level, but it's how I cope. It's how I keep my spirits high. It's how I manage to be somewhat of a fun parent to my kids. Blindly searching out new blogs does not give me a chance to avoid the terrible stories, as I don't know that I'm embarking on one until I'm already knee-deep in it. The people who post these stories are in their right to do so. I actually believe that it is important to share with others in the same boat who may benefit from knowing that there are people who understand. I believe it is therapeutic for the author's themselves to spill their guts and face their own traumas and experiences. I don't know if I'm suppressing issues deep from within myself, or if I'm just cold hearted, but within ten minutes, I managed to read about rape, domestic violence, and a dead child, and now am either ready to start drinking or seek out a life coach. Is it wrong that I run instead of reflect? I want to be an empathetic person, and I believe that I am on some levels, but I often wonder, for the most part, if I'm just being an asshole.

I Give Up

Both my kids were in bed before 7pm tonight. I knew ahead of time that Pumpkin would be tired. Camp does a great job at using up every last scrap of her energy, which is good, except for me, who has a few daylight hours of Pumpkin left between picking her up and tucking her in. These are typically playful hours, peppered with moments of psychological warfare. Chichi is either reacting to Monday's vaccination, or she has a genuine cold obtained by chewing on a toy in the doctor's office. Why must medical health practicioners keep bacteria laden crap on the floor in their waiting rooms? Anyhow, despite my children's ill tempers, I decided that I would aim for us to all eat together tonight. In all honesty, we don't usually all sit together nor do we all eat the same thing. When I can get us all fed early enough, and when dinner is suitable for eaters of all ages, I give the family dinner a try. Whatever book I read on the subject said that everyone should be served the same thing, provided that there is at least one sure thing on the table that the picky eaters will eat. Chichi whined all through dinner, occasionally popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. Pumpkin whined, threw her rice on the floor, cried that the chicken was 'scary', and shrieked when I took her food away. This is why both kids ended up in bed before 7. Not all family dinner attempts go this badly, but none can ever be described as enjoyable. This brings me to my point. To the news media, who threaten us with inevitable drug abuse by our kids if we don't have a family meal; to nutritionists, who scare us into desperately trying to get our kids to consume the correct number of food groups; to any other parent that I've ever spoken with who was all smug about how THEIR family always eats together, and how THEIR kids enjoy lentils and broccoli, YOU CAN ALL KISS MY ASS!!!!!! It's chicken nuggets and fries from here on in! The grown-up can eat whatever they find in the freezer once the kids are knocked out for the night. The end.

Back at Ya, Mom

Being at home with two kids does not allow me to have many breaks in the day. I get one nap out of Chichi while Pumpkin is at camp, but there are always things to do. This is why I sometimes sit way longer than necessary when I use the washroom. It isn't as glamorous as going out for coffee, but at least I'm sitting, and can lock myself behind the door for an extra few minutes and collect myself. If the door is not locked, however, it is guaranteed that Pumpkin will interrupt my time-out. The other day while I was taking such a break, sitting on the can, elbows resting on my knees, head resting in my hands, Pumpkin walked in. My posture indicated to her that I was having trouble 'going'. Mimicking the same type of encouragement that I am known to offer Pumpkin when I see her struggling on the toilet, she assumed an Incredible Hulk-like stance, and offered up a hearty, "GRRRRRRRRRRR!", in hopes of helping me along. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the crapper.

Keeping the theme alive, and because I'm REEEEEEL mature:

Busy and Crazy!

A lot has been going on at Casa Mac and Cheese lately.  I neglected to post about Pumpkin's pre-school graduation which happened about a week and a half ago.  It was a little scary, seeing as the days of cutesy wootsy have come to an end, and her next school will be big, concrete, and full of big kids.  You'd have to see the set up of her preschool to get a sense of how safe and contained it is.  It is an 1800's school house on a beautiful lot, surrounded by a white picket fence.  It was pretty easy to leave her there each morning, as opposed to this upcoming September when I will only be escorting her as far as the school bus.  Somehow she is going to get off the bus at the other end, hang up her own clothes, serve herself her own snacks and lunch, and learn something.  Could happen!

We also had Pumpkin's 4th birthday party on Saturday, and I have to say, an off-site party is the way to go if you can swing it.  I was thinking of having her party at home, and it wasn't the fear of 20 kids ransacking my backyard that made me hesitate.  It was the fact that at this age, the parents would likely be staying, which takes the pre clean and food prep to a whole new level.  I'm actually phobic of entertaining, with concerns of dog hair and being judged on my cooking.  As if I'd be cooking.  Whatever.  The gym class type of party was a hit, and Pumpkin seemed to love it.  I say "seemed", because she'd never actually tell me.  I have to go by the smiles and lack of tantrums.  

In other Pumpkin news, today was her first day of camp.  I've sent her to half day camp before, and I've sent her to half day school before, but both were at the quaint little place described above, so this had an entirely different feel.  It was extremely weird for me to walk my ever lovin' first born over to a 16 year old and hand her over for the entire day.  Pumpkin didn't fuss as she shyly took the councilors hand, and walked over to her group while her over sized knapsack shuffled along behind her.  (Sniff.)  I'm anxious to pick her up in an hour from now.  

In other surreal news, this morning while I was getting Chichi dressed for the day, I heard The Huz screaming, "TAZ!  TAZ! TAZ!"  Although he freaks out about the dogs on a regular basis, this scream had a lot more urgency than is typical.  I decided to abandon my post and check out whatever drama was unfolding in the yard.  What I just missed seeing was a black squirrel with its teeth embedded in Taz's snout, as Taz tried to shake it off.  Not relishing the idea of 10 rabies shots in the abdomen, Hubby succeeded in removing the squirrel without actually touching it.  He pulled Taz's head in one direction, then quickly snapped it in the other, sending the squirrel flying as if it had been catapulted, or squirrelapulted as the case was.  It has been about a month since I dropped money at the vet's anyways, so I was due to make a deposit.

So what's new with you?

Birthday Party Advice

On Saturday, I began my day at Chuck E. Cheese's, and ended it at a performance of Riverdance. I am a woman of diverse interests, multiple complexities, and many layers. Plus we had free tickets. Back to the Chuck E. Cheese's part, the last time I was there was when I was the kid, not the parent. I remember that I was in grade 5, and that my friends were trying to chat up some boys who were following us around. We did the 11 year old's equivalent of buying them drinks, which was to give them some of our prize tickets. My friends had me be the runner, so I was the one to deliver the tickets, and find out who was interested in whom. So suave were we. It was very typical for me to have been the runner, and not one of the love interests. I'd like to say that I was just selective at such a young age, and that I preferred the boys from the roller rink, but truthfully, I just couldn't attract a lot of little league action with whatever my look was in those days. Don't feel bad for me though. I peaked in my 20's instead. Anyhow, the birthday party that brought us there this past Saturday was a different experience. It was a lot of work actually. I don't recommend this place for a party if your child requires a guardian to follow her around, explain to deaf ears why certain games are not appropriate for her, and why she can't cash her 47 tickets in for a Tinkerbell toy that requires 8000 prize tickets to purchase. "YOU WILL TAKE YOUR RUBBER SPIDER AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!!!" I prefer a party where parents get to talk amongst themselves while funneling flasks of vodka into their provided juice boxes. Just throw the kids into a bouncy castle. They'll be fine.

Best Google Search to Find This Blog, Ever!

will banging of head on the wardrobe cause tumors

Timberrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!

I'm sitting in my dining room, watching a team of tree guys cut down five of the trees in my yard. When we moved in, we had 10 tall pines, each about 50 years old. They weren't looking particularly healthy, but they added a great deal of character to the yard. A very dry summer a couple of years back did some of them in though, and I guess character lost out to safety as we've been a little shaken up by projectile branches smashing into our house during some of the crazy wind storms we've had this spring. So down they come. Despite my sadness over my slightly more barren looking yard, I can't help but smile at the memory of that scene from Fargo every time I pass by the front window and see the wood chipper in my driveway. At least there's that.

The trees in my yard were one of those things that gave me something to brag about. "Sure, my '80's, suburban house has no personality and needs work, but look at those trees!" Now I'm gonna need something else to feel superior to those urbanites who outbid us on the midtown houses that we desperately tried to buy back in the day. I guess with all that freshly opened up space, I can accommodate a massive flock of pink flamingos:

Nope. No feeling of superiority yet. I'll keep trying.

I'm Pretty Sure that we Won't be Home Schooling Over Here.

You know those moments in life when your child demonstrates what a great job you've been doing, and your heart swells with pride as others look on in awe?  I've heard about these moments, although I most certainly did not have one of them today at our junior kindergarten interview.  It was just a 15 minute assessment where the teacher talked to Pumpkin, asked her a few questions, and tried to get a sense of how often she will be banging her head on the chalk board next school year.  Just yesterday, I had a laugh with hubby about how talking to Pumpkin is sometimes like talking to someone with a concussion.  It wasn't as funny today as Pumpkin ignored the questions that she didn't like, talked about things she wasn't asked about, and showed no sign of knowing any of the letters in her name, how old she is, or any ability to draw.  Not only that, but the questions that she did answer appropriately made me look bad.  When asked what she likes to eat, she replied, "Chocolate bread!"  (Nutella).  When asked if she likes to watch TV, she totally perked up and recited all the Disney movies that she likes to watch, and wouldn't leave the topic alone.  When It's not like I haven't tried to teach her how to write her name or her numbers, but she isn't at all receptive to my efforts when I try.  She typically retreats to her own little world, where she demonstrates great imagination, but frustrates the hell out of me.  I generally believe that she knows more than she lets on, but plays dumb for whatever reason.  The alternative is that she may have learning issues, or possibly ADD inherited from my husband, which we will deal with if we have to, but I'm now feeling anxious about it.    She is very social and outgoing, which has carried her through pre-school well enough, but what happens now?  I am hoping that in class, when I'm not around, she will show her true potential.  I just don't feel confident that all is well.  (deep breath.)

Sent To: Memory Lane

Today I decided to start deleting the kajillion or so e-mails sitting in my sent mail.  To ensure that I wasn't going to lose any valuable information, my plan was to quickly scan each one and delete as I went along.  I found that I was unable to complete the task because of what happened next.  I opened up a fair number of e-mails and discovered how well those quick notes documented the past two years of my life.  They are like a diary in a way that this blog is not.  All these quick, blunt, and funny little blurbs, filled with the details of my daily life can be constructed to reveal all that is really me.  Notes that are written for specific people read a lot differently than a blog post that everyone stumbles onto when they Google the term, banana clip.  (It happens more often than you think!)  Personal e-mail covers the minutia that I omit in this space for concern that such details are too uninteresting, or simply not bloggable.  They tell about the journey, not just the end of the story.  Also, when I read them, I hear my own voice, which is something that I have not yet achieved here.  I try to be me when I blog, but I personally think I sound like a low calorie version of myself.  All that aside, after reading 20 or so, I realized that a lot has happened in two years.  It started with a lot of back and forth dialogue concerning the planning of hubby's birthday party that year.  It was a good party, but it will always be remembered as the party where there was something very wrong with my MIL, although we weren't sure what.  Next came the notes that I sent to various individuals, informing them that we had just taken my MIL to the hospital, and discovered that she had a brain tumor.  I don't plan to take you through notes about the hope and sorrow that followed, but my point is that reading through all this really took me through the emotional roller coaster, detailing things I might have otherwise forgotten or misremembered.  

Not all of my backlog of e-mail was of such a serious nature.  A lot of it was just banter, but reading through it gave me a feel for my relationships with various individuals.  There were also many notes pertaining to weddings.  There were notes pertaining to births.  There were notes about my own pregnancy and labour.  There were notes that were just funny to re-read, although they were of little consequence.  I'm might now be hooked on my sent mail.  Instead of deleting it, I think I'll be backing it up!

Small Talk

I'm not a big fan. Of small talk, that is. I am happy to sit in silence, as long as I'm comfortable with the people I'm with. That is not to say that I don't yammer on about senseless things from time to time (e.g. my entire blog), but overall, I'd rather not discuss the weather or comment on how terrible or wonderful the latest news story is. I used to work with a couple of people, P and L, and one time I heard P ask L what she brought for lunch that day. Her strained reply was, "Does it really matter?" I totally get that. I find it tiring to answer an irrelevant question to which the reply is meaningless even to the person who asked it. I do my best to avoid such conversations, but sometimes weird ones sneak up on me. One time I was walking my dog and saw my dentist jogging towards me. This sounds a little odd but we used to live in the same area, and he does run everyday. Anyhow, I just gave a wave, not wanting to converse for the sake of an out of context run-in, and figuring that he would motor on by, but he decided to slow down enough such that he could tell me that he felt terrible. "Oh...thats...not...good....", was the reply that I stammered as he continued on out of earshot. What else could I say? I didn't even ask!!! Even if I had asked, his duty was to tell me that he felt fine, right? This was an outright small talk violation! I had another weird one today too.

Today I was at the vet's for a check up for one of my dogs. I always seem to be at the vet's for one reason or another, so I do feel a certain amount of familiarity with the people who work there, but typically we talk shop, or in my case, dogs. This falls in the category of acceptable small talk for me. During the check-up, Dr. B was making a fuss over my dog who was being calm, and cute, and all things doggie. Then she asked me if the dog was good with the kids, which gave her the segue that she needed to talk about her own kids, despite my not having asked. She has an 18 year old son who dropped out of school, and who isn't working. She said that he has mental issues, but added that he is seeing a psychiatrist and is trying to work through this. She then went on to give me examples of the things that he did as a child that foreshadowed his current behaviour and OMG ISN'T THIS A LOT OF INFORMATION TO BE GIVING AN ALMOST STRANGER??? "Uhhhh, good luck with that" was all I could come up with as a reply. Then I went to the front desk to pick up a prescription for some doggie meds and explained to the clerk that having it filled at a drug store works out to be more than 60% cheaper than buying the drugs directly from the vet (don't tell me that I never give you any useful information), and this spawned another insanely long conversation about her cat, and its problems, and how expensive its treatment was, and how she had just started working at suchandsuch a place which allowed her to finance the treatment for her cat so that she didn't have to put it down, and so yes, it is important to try to keep vet bills down. Did I bring that on myself? Stop talking already!

Isn't it ironic that the the longest post I've written in ages is about my distaste for small talk?

Yup, It Really is About Breakfast Cereal

Some time ago there was an article posted somewhere about mommy blogging being essentially about breakfast cereal. We all know that this is not true, except in the case of this post. I have a cereal issue. My thing has always been to buy a few boxes of Cookie Crisp cereal whenever I'm in the U.S. We can't get it here. I'm not sure that I even like it anymore, but this tradition has been ongoing for over 20 years, and I enjoy the odd looks I get from my fellow travellers when I load up on the stuff. Last week when I was killing time while Pumpkin was at her ballet class, I wandered into a neighbouring Kosher supermarket. As I meandered up and down the aisles, I found myself staring at a wall of "American" cereals that we don't usually have access to. Cocoa Puffs, Fruity Pebbles, Kix, and yes, Cookie Crisp. For some reason, the folks who keep Kosher in the area love their sugar fix in the morning. I always figured that our government had determined certain cereals to qualify as NOT FOOD, and therefore banned them from our shelves. Maybe religious restrictions trump government policy? Anyhow, now I'm kinda bummed out about it. I can't make trips to the U.S. for a cereal that I can get locally, so I need to get a fix of something new. It doesn't have to be kosher. It doesn't even have to be cereal. Just don't recommend cheese in a can - we don't seem to have it here and I stand behind whomever made that decision.

Girl's Week-End!

Since none of you took me up on my offer for a week-end of unpatriotic shopping and female bonding, I feel compelled to enlighten you on all that you missed. I think that the picture book version says it best:

We went to

Where we bought a lot of

and engaged in a room crawl, where we may have had a drink...

...or 10

The red nose is a dead giveaway. That and my sad attempt at keeping my eyes open wide after countless squinty-eyed versions of this pic.

Ok, there are no other pictures that I am permitted or willing to post. I may or may not have engaged in a little table dancing with another woman, which isn't as sexy as it sounds, but thankfully the camera operator was too messed up to create a permanent memory. Whew!

This trip was more fun than I've had in ages. Not that spending time with my family isn't fun, but this was a necessary, different kind of fun that I have been depriving myself of since the kiddies came along. Don't get me wrong - I missed them dearly. Especially the baby, given that I had forgotten a piece of my breast pump and was in a wee bit of pain by 10 am the first morning. I ended up buying a new one, (they're much cheaper in the U.S.) so if you are are someone, or know someone who might want a free, slightly used pump, let me know. I'm done with it. Just boil it - good as new. ish.

The first day of shopping rocked. I haven't bought myself anything since before I was preggo with Chichi, so my goal was to go nuts, which I kind of did. Not a whole wardrobe or anything, but enough to keep myself from being naked this summer. You can thank me now. The second day was a little rough for me due to the previous evening, so I couldn't feel the shopping love. Just as well. We came just short of a full cavity search at customs on the way home, so I was better off not having more to declare. Apparently, 42 women walking through the customs office, each carrying three Coach purses was a bit of a tip off. Live and learn.

Wanted:

Two unpatriotic women from the Toronto area who would like to join me and 42 other women on a bus trip to Buffalo. We leave this Friday at 5 pm and will not return until late Sunday evening. The cost is $140 for hotel and transportation, and we are bunking 4 to a room. There are two spots left, so if you are not a psychopathic killer who will rip our hearts out and eat them just for pleasure, let me know if you are interested.

Great Moments in Parenting...

It is not ideal when your three year old walks into the room with her nightie hiked up to her chest, explaining that you shouldn't worry about all the poo on the floor as she has been wiping it up and will continue to do so while you are nursing the baby.

Cleaning the Coop

The good news is that Pumpkin's school is cleaner than most of your homes. The bad news is that I know this from being part of the cleaning crew. Pumpkin's school is a co-op, and for many co-oppers, this means that you have to pull off a duty day every once in a while. I wish that was what I had to do. Yesterday was the third of three major clean-ups for the school, and everyone has to participate in one of them. I also had to endure a few individual cleaning days over the course of the year, as everyone has had to, but none quite as thorough as the major clean. They made us clean EVERYTHING. I'm not just talking about table tops and toys. We pulled everything out of the school onto the lawn, cleaned and disinfected all of it, while others cleaned and disinfected every interior surface imaginable. We even had to clean the mail-slot-style cubbies where we pick up our children's art work every day. I have many spots in my house where I stuff mail, flyers, etc., and I can honestly say that I've never thought to wash and disinfect any one of them. I'm just proud of myself if I ever get around to sorting all that crap. As for my job at the school, I was thrown into the basement to sort out the toys, tossing out the useless ones, and cleaning up the keepers. Because it is a co-op, there have been a lot of crappy toy donations over the years, which left me with a lot of junk to sort through. The two dads who worked along with me left me to decide what got tossed. My husband would have avoided that task too. Is it a guy thing? Hubby hates making small decisions and freezes when faced with annoying tasks like this. Even last night when I was feeling ill with cold and flu symptoms, I asked him to go out and bring home whatever for dinner, and he still couldn't do it without calling home to get me to be more specific. What I wanted was to be exempt from having to make a decision. He didn't get that. At least I didn't have to cook.

As for the drag of the co-op factor, whatamIgonnado? It's a great school, and I will probably be sending Pumpkin there again next year on the days when she isn't in JK. Maybe I should take a cue from some of the other mothers and send in a substitute me on the cleaning days. Anyone looking to make a buck?

Free Write

If I had followed the path of my "old" life, Pumpkin would be hunting for chocolate eggs right now instead of watching Disney movies. I'm not talking about a change in religions - I've always been Jewish, although it wasn't exactly prevalent in my earlier years. I grew up in a more or less Godless fashion, and I kinda liked it. My mom converted when she married my dad, but she kept the commercial Christian holidays alive, so we feasted on crappy, hollow, chocolate Easter treats. I've got the Jewish facade thing going on now seeing as I married someone whose family sorta does Judaism properly, thus no Easter Bunny. I did promise Pumpkin that I'd buy her Hungry Hungry Hippos for Passover, although I'm running out of time on that one. Maybe I'll build up some hype for that treat for the last of the eight day holiday. We're not actually keeping Passover, so it'll seem outta the blue for her, but whatever. I guess I'm feeling Easter egg hunt envy for everyone who updated facebook today with details of hidden eggs and excited children. We did have our two Seder meals, but the buck stops there for us. I'm not bunging myself up with matzoh for eight days, not at least until a time when my daughters start Hebrew school and need me to walk the walk with them. Hypocrite much? I am what I am. Actually, there was a time when I talked about converting to Christianity. I was 13 and going out with a guy from my friend's church's youth group. I mentioned to my mom, quite flippantly, that I might convert for him. I don't remember my mom's reaction, but she called my dad to let him know, and I recall him being upset about this and having a word with me. Dudes, when a 13 year old makes a statement like this, clearly without knowing what's involved, let it go! It will pass! Will I be able to recognize the circumstances that do not require intervention? Like the time when I was 17 and my boyfriend at the time explained to my mom that when he gets married, he planned to continue to live with his parents, along with the wife and kids. My mom questioned me about my willingness to do this, suggesting that I bail. As a 17 year old who had yet to even have sex, I really didn't care what this guy's plans were. Even I recognized at the time that this would not be my problem. It turned out not to be any one's problem. He has since come out of the closet and probably does not live with his parents. Incidentally, I was still a 17 year old virgin by the end of that relationship. Go figure. Oh, and then there was this trailer trashy guy who worked in a cemetery doing, uhhmmm, "landscaping". It was just one of those things, yannow? My mom freaked out on me a lot during those days. Anyhow, although I probably wouldn't like to see either of my daughters going out with a grave digger of questionable origin, I would like to hope I will be able to keep my anxiety under wraps, knowing that she'll snap out of it at the end of cottage season, or at least until the guy reveals his grand master plan of getting rich selling Amway. Nothing wrong with selling Amway. It just might be a good idea to have a plan B. My mom is probably smirking now, saying, "Just you wait....".

My Passover Culinary Expertise

Hellooooo!  Sorry I've been neglecting this space, but I've really enjoyed my break.  I think I might still be on a break, but I'm having a down-moment and I don't want to clean anymore today, and since dinner is already defrosting nicely, I figured I'd pop in.  So where were we?  Oh yeah, veterinarians and cooking.  Just for an update on Lucky, she is ok.  The growth on her foot was benign, and we pitched the lamp-shade thingy around her neck after one day when we realized that she wasn't going to rip off her bandages.  Our walls thank us for that one.  Recovery has been slow, but now with the right drugs, she should be back to her usual, looney self in no time.  Sometimes I think I deserve a degree of sorts in pharmacology with all the drugs I administer on a daily basis.  Every morning it's anti-seizure and liver-related meds to Taz; antibiotics, anti inflammatory, eye-drops, and the occasional estrogen pill for Lucky.  Every evening it's pretty much the same.  Don't I at least deserve a white coat and platform that makes me taller than everyone by a couple of inches?

I haven't put together any meals worth posting about since the Firecracker Chicken, but I have made progress in one culinary area.  If you recall my Passover post from last year, I set out to host a seder with my sister-in-law, but she ended up ordering up all the food, arranging for hired help, and taking care of getting the dining room at my FIL's house set up.  Ultimately, I did nothing.  Well this year, things are different.  This year, I took care of ordering the food!  Impressed?  Oh wait, it doesn't end there...  I'm actually going to prepare one of the dishes with my bare hands!  One whole dish!  I feel as though I've been catapulted into a whole different realm of Seder hosting, despite having 90% of the food catered.  Who knows?  Maybe next year I'll even make a second dish!  I'm outta control now!  Anyhow, if I don't make it back here to post in the next day or two, Happy Passover and/or Easter.  Lookin' forward to that Charlton Heston movie !

Firecracker Chicken

I avoid complicated meals at almost all costs, but there is one recipe that I can't seem to stay away from.  I prepared the sauce for it last night which involved the chopping and seeding of some really hot peppers.  The recipe calls for jalapeno, but I went with scotch bonnet.  Did you know that it is near impossible to remove the essence of scotch bonnet peppers from your hands in one or two good washes?  I realized this while I was flossing my teeth before bed, and felt my mouth set afire while I was doing it.  I prefer a minty floss generally.  I felt like I had just eaten hot chicken wings.  Then I worried about what I might do to Chichi during a diaper change so I scrubbed my hands raw, which left them stinging badly as I probably opened up a sore or two in my attempt to be pepper free.  It was like I had injected the hot pepper under my skin.  It took at least a half hour to subside.  In the morning, I found that my hands still had some kick to them.  I managed to keep my fiery hands away from all eyes and further orifices, but damn, those peppers should come with a pair of latex gloves!  Anyhow, it is pretty much my favourite meal right now, even though it is way too much work, not child friendly, and not all that healthy either.  You still want it, don't you?  Well, as I state above, this is not a food blog, however, this blog is.  I managed to find it while trying to avoid walking upstairs to use the scanner on the existing page that I have it copied on.  Go for it, but don't play with yourself for days after making it.  Don't say I didn't warn ya!  

Continuing to Pay for the Veterinarian's House

We got through the March break relatively unscathed. A couple of playdates, Disney On Ice, and a McDonald's playground got us through the rest of the week. No big whoop, as Pumpkin wasn't in torture-mommy mode. Still, she and I were both happy to have school back in session.

The big drama of today would be my dog who had minor surgery. There was a growth on her foot that was removed, which has left her temporarily limping. The seemingly bigger issue is the damn cone/lamp shade doohicky she has to wear around her neck to prevent her from licking her wounds. She is a 75lb dog, which means her particular lamp shade is quite large, tripling the diameter of her required headroom. Combine that with her already hyper personality, and you've got a lot of paint chips, wall gouges, and scratched knees. It's going to be a long ten days of this. I can't imagine that she is too impressed either. She looks so miserable lying there with her droopy, doped up eyes, bandaged foot, and normally upright ears being bent downwards by the stupid cone. Poor baby. She requests that all flowers, gifts, and edibles be sent care of me, you know, just in case she's too sleepy to answer the door.

March Break Survival - 1st Edition

So far, so good, sort of. I was a bit of a slacker on Saturday and didn't do anything with Pumpkin to start off her spring break, but she was pretty good that day, busying herself with arts n' crafts, and Disney movies.

On Sunday I took her to a Judy and David performance, which she seemed to enjoy, although more so in retrospect than during. It was a modern day rendition of The Three Little Pigs, and although she seemed a little restless while we were watching it, a half hour after the show I heard her say, "We can't go yet - I need to hug the pigs!" A little late, but at least there was some sort of impact. One day I'll figure her out. I can't say that I'm a big fan of Judy and David, although this was the first time I've ever been subjected to their schtick. I've heard them referred to as The Canadian Wiggles, which is definitely a stretch, but overall it was pretty good. Coincidentally, we met up with some good friends at the show, which was an added bonus.

Yesterday, we hit the maple sugar bush for the second year in a row. Oddly enough, it was the same place where we went last year, when I reported disappointment with the experience. They're still not offering taffy on snow, which blows, but Pumpkin got more into the experience, fed the animals, had a pony ride, and generally enjoyed being out of doors. That was my actual reason for returning to this particular place. I really wanted to get out and enjoy this sunny weather we've been having, and there's something kitchy about being at a sugar bush. Besides, I learned to make my own taffy last year, improving on the technique by substituting ice cream in place of my dog-abused snow supply. Think I'll do another round of that before the week is out.

Today we made it downtown for Spring Fling, although I wish we hadn't. It was essentially the same type of carnival that turns up in local shopping mall parking lots, but because of where it was, the line-ups were insane, and we ended up waiting about 45 minutes for each crappy ride. Not so good if you happen to be with a tiny bladdered person. If you do decide to venture out to do this, bring enough snacks to keep the kids from whining and tantrumming in line. I ran out too early in the day. Also, build up a lot of hype for the ice cream or popcorn that you promise your kids for when you want to make an exit. To be honest, I would have offered Pumpkin a small, Korean car just for an opportunity to get outta there! Thankfully popcorn did the trick.

I guess I still have a few more days of trying to be the funnest mom ever. Wish me luck!

I Suppose it's One Way to Travel...

Pardon the annoying toy - I needed bait.

Recipe for a Happy Marriage?

There was an article in the paper yesterday that discussed the formula for a happy marriage as per a survey conducted on 3000 Brits.  To sum things up, on average, the people who had the happiest marriages:  say, "I love you", daily; share 2 hobbies; have sex three times a week; communicate three times during the work day; enjoy two romantic meals a month; and exchange four kisses and three cuddles daily.  What I can deduce from this is that the happy couples that helped to formulate this recipe have neither small children, nor PVRs.  As someone who has both, I think we need to tweek this a wee bit.  

Saying, "I love you", everyday isn't too much of a hardship but all those kisses and cuddles are going to be difficult to squeeze in.  The mornings might not be a good time for this as we are in constant battle with our 3 year old, starting from being jolted out of slumber by her squealing, and ending with her complete refusal to get into the car to go to school.  Any romantic gestures during this time will be taken as sarcasm.  Evenings aren't great for this either because the whole business of getting two kids fed, bathed, and off to bed is exhausting to say the least, and by the time we've got them in their beds and get dinner cleared away, we need to take to our separate corners to unwind.  There may be time for a genuine "I love you" in the hour between getting relaxed and heading off to bed, provided it doesn't interfere with our favourite shows.  I am, however, willing to multitask and cuddle while I'm watching TV.  Based on this, I'm willing to offer up four "I love yous"per week, and maybe one long cuddle per night, with the possibility of a kiss during a commercial break.  No promises though.  

Speaking of our shows, this is where the PVR becomes an issue.  How can one be expected to have sex three times a week EVERY week when we have the ability to record hours and hours of quality programming every week, and need to use our spare time to keep from falling behind on it.  Lost, Grey's Anatomy, House, Hell's Kitchen, etc.  That's a heck of a lot of commitment!  We may have romantic plans for after the TV turns off, but c'mon people, let's talk about sleep here!  Small children, remember?  Would my marriage really be happier if I were that much more tired?  I'm going to leave it to you to decide how often is enough 'cause my parents are reading and they don't need more information than they've already got.  I knew I should never have given them my web address.  

How about those two hobbies that we're supposed to share?  Is it enough that we both like to mountain bike and ski, but only get to fantasize about getting out to do those things together.  I suppose fantasizing could count as a hobby, right?  I'll go with one hobby that can be done anytime, anywhere.

Communicating at least 3 times during the work day? Does calling to ask him to bring home diapers count?  How about if I follow it up with a text message that instructs him on which specific diapers to buy?  That'll put me at two!  Truthfully, our days are both rather busy, and interrupting each other is kind of annoying.  I'm gonna offer up one per day, provided there is actual information that needs to be transmitted.

Two romantic meals per month seems acceptable, although the interpretation of "romantic" must be a subjective thing.  Are the kids bound and gagged such that hubby and I may converse?  Yes?  Consider this to be romantic.

Theoretically, we're not putting forth enough effort to actually be happy, which is too bad, because I mistakenly believed that we were happy.  That's so much extra work that I don't even want a happy marriage now!  I'm gonna settle for mediocre.  Who's with me?

Freshening Up, Take One.

To distract you from noticing that I've got absolutely nothing to say, I've started redecorating. If that new banner doesn't entice you to keep coming back, I don't know what will.

Big Sis

Recently I have posted about how my feelings towards Pumpkin were at an all-time low, and also about how her behaviour has improved since that particular post. Pumpkin's behaviour certainly isn't perfect, and I do believe that she is still doing research for her debut non-fiction book titled, How to Irritate People (chapter 1 : Methods of waving objects in the face of whomever is trying to strap you into your car seat), she does seem to have turned a corner. Her dialogue is now often relevant, and she can be reasoned with some of the time. The area where I am most impressed with her, and have always been impressed with actually, is her behaviour towards her new sister. I knew that there would be jealousy, and I believe that there is, but these feelings have never been taken out on Chichi. Hubby, the dogs, and I have suffered a great deal, but Chichi remains unscathed. When Chichi needs to be nursed, Pumpkin doesn't complain but instead hangs out in Chichi's room and plays. When Chichi eats her meals, Pumpkin often does things to make her laugh, enabling me to feed her more easily. When Chichi seems unhappy, Pumpkin worries and brings her toys. Pumpkin even chooses to have her bath with Chichi, even though she only gets about three inches of water to play in. I don't worry about leaving them alone in a room together. Just yesterday I walked into the playroom to find the two of them playing "nosies", which is just what we call it when we rub noses. Chichi seems to light up whenever Pumpkin enters the room. I love this, but I am also baffled.

I don't have a sister. I do, however, have a brother, and despite the fact that he will probably leave a comment denying any wrongdoing, he was pretty evil when we were little. I remember being punched in tune to the song that played whenever he completed a level of Donkey Kong Jr. I remember being denied the chips he was eating unless I was willing to walk in bare feet in the snow for ten seconds. I remember being flipped over backwards in rocking chairs, etc. I obviously can't remember how he treated me when I was a baby, but there is no record of him being nurturing whatsoever. I can't say that I believe that my two girls will always get along, or even get along for much of the time, but I am really enjoying how they are right now and wonder if they will have less sibling rivalry than my brother and I had to deal with. Regardless, right now I am just so very proud of Pumpkin for being the big sister that she is.

Freshening Up

In the past, I have managed to come up with posts pertaining to things of little consequence, but posted nonetheless.  Lately I feel as though I've got nothing.  I've been blaming my boring life, but I don't think things are more boring these days than they were a year ago.  Technically they are more exciting given the new addition to our family.  I've also  been blaming the winter blahs, which I think everyone is experiencing these days, but there must be more to it than that.  I've been tagged several times in facebook for the 25 things about me meme, and haven't even have the energy or desire to come up with the 25 things.  Aside from watching my children grow and develop, the only thing that's gotten any sort of a rise out of me lately is the anticipation of new episodes of LOST.  I think I need more than this, although LOST is the best show EVER and is worth channeling my energy into.  That being said, I need a plan.  I'm thinking that I could force myself to post everyday (this will probably result in posts about poo); maybe visit my eliptical trainer in the basement a few times a week even though I hate this idea with a passion; make a better point of seeing my friends in person; stop waiting for everyone else to update their blogs and use my spare time to read one of those hand-held thingies with words and pages; and ???  What are you guys doing to stay fresh?

A Little Bit Redneck

I've been racking my brain trying to come up with an example of my redneckedness that would grant me admission to the Redneck shower, seeing as how s'phisticated I am, when I suddenly remembered this pic:

I too have been known to sleep with dog butt in my face! His butt may have been relocated for the purpose of this picture, but rest assured that I am no stranger to being woken up by the oh so pleasant scent of my dog's ass molecules. Sorry, I know that Tanis sleeps in the buff, but I'm not as much of a fan of dog hair in my creveses. So there it is. My bond with the real Redneck, whose new son is the latest Redneck-in-training. Congratulations to Tanis and the entire Redneck crew!

What?

I need new hearing aids.  I've had the same pair for about 6 years, and they are losing strength.  They've been kind of crappy for some time, what with them being stuffed in warm, moist, sometimes waxy ears 'n such.  Not the best environment for mini computers.  I've held off getting new ones because a) partial coverage only comes every 5 years from hubby's insurance, and b) I've been waiting to lose weight.  Believe it or not, when one loses weight, one does so in one's ears as well, leaving once fitted hearing aids somewhat loose, and sounding "tinny".  With the pregnancy weight finally gone, (THAT'S RIGHT!  ALL GONE!), and the TV loud enough to hear next door, I checked in with the specialist to see what's new in hearing.  Since I'm insistent on having the type that are completely hidden within my ear canals, the past six years of technology advancement have mainly brought me much of the same, with the option to upgrade for an extra $1100 to what amounts to better clarity.  The specialist suggested that I consider this as I am young, working, and probably need to be at the top of my game.  Although what I do on a daily basis certainly qualifies as working, I'm not sure it's the kind of work that requires the best hearing possible.  High quality nagging, whining, and shrieking don't sound like they'd be worth the money.  With the dying hearing aids that I am presently wearing, I hear all those things better than I want to.  Overall, my kids are actually loud enough for me to hear them unaided.  I'm now considering a downgrade.  

Room by the Hour?

We had date-night yesterday.  Both of us were very tired.  A cold swept through my house last week, and I was/am still in the thick of it.  A stomach bug also swept through, but for some reason I was the only one to get sick.  I think I may have felt normal for one day out of seven.  Despite feeling so bad, we were also bored.  Having kids the age of ours makes for a boring week-end most of the time.  The baby more or less grounds us as there is too much necessary gear to tote around if we were to attempt to go somewhere with her, not that we really have anywhere to go.  Pumpkin is good to go places, but winter is tough for ideas that the whole family can enjoy.  We had a playdate with my friend and her son, which was the excitement of our week-end.  So yes, we were zonked, but bored enough to go out.  As we were driving to the theatre, we passed by the street that leads us to hubby's dad's place.  Hubby suggested that we go there instead and just have a three hour nap.  I'm not sure why I didn't jump at that.  Yes, dinner and movie was nice, but I think I could start a new trend with the nap idea.  I think if it had been earlier on in the day, I would have opted for it.  

So how about Grace in Small Things?  I feel like I could use a dose:

1.  Chichi's first tooth

2.  Deer that keep running past my back fence

3.  The Scottie dogs in the movie, Coraline.

4.  Refrigerators with French doors

5.  Hair styling products

For the above, I am grateful.

Rap Star, Eh?

I just read that Joaquin Phoenix is leaving acting for a career as a hip hop musician.  Does that ever work?  I've seen musicians make it in acting, but never the other way around.  Remember these:

I'm just sayin.  

I Think My 3 Year Old Reads My Blog

After three consecutive posts about how I haven't been enjoying my time with Pumpkin lately, I feel the need to change my tune. On the day of my last post, Pumpkin came home from school and was as bratty as ever. She had a swim lesson that afternoon and insisted that she wasn't going. The week before, she spent the whole lesson crying, although the week before that, she loved it. I didn't know if I should have let her drop out, or push her into it, but I really need for her to have afternoon activities for my own sanity, so off we went to swimming with the promise of buying her a Princess Aurora figurine if she did what the instructor asked. The lesson started out pretty rough, but by the end she was more or less complying. I showered her with praise, bought her the stupid princess, and headed home. From that moment forward, she has been a pretty good kid. Very few time-outs have been issued, most meals have been consumed without too much aggravation, we've gotten off to school without any fights, and here's the kicker: SHE SHAT IN THE POTTY!!!!!!!! I wasn't even prompting her. Our secret: She wasn't wearing any clothes from the waist down. Crapping on the floor seemed to disturb her more than crapping in her clothes, so she wandered upstairs by herself and properly took care of business. Guess we'll be doing the half-nekkid thing around here for the next while. Anyhow, remembering the days of when I was offering princess bribes for potty training, Pumpkin interrupted my excitement to ask, "Can I have Belle?" I think I need to buy shares of Disney stock.

Hate

We're not allowed to say that we hate them.  If our children's behaviour is so bad day after day after day after day that we want to cry every morning because getting out the front door is so difficult, we aren't really permitted to hate them.  If they ignore every single thing that we say, despite the time-outs, threats, removal of toys, etc., we still don't get to hate them.  If the thought of them coming home from school makes us feel dread, and even getting them home from school is a challenge in itself, we can't say that it's the children that we hate. Even if our best intentions lead us to take them to programs that get met with resistance, tantrums, and futility, hate is still not permitted.  Think of the judgement we would receive if we regularly expressed hatred for our kids.  The more lenient of the judges would probably tell us that we don't hate them, but that we are just stressed by the trials of parenthood.  Do feelings really need to be so complicated?  I love my daughter the way a mother should, but sometimes...

I Love Bleach

This is a poo post.  If you are even the slightest bit of an intellectual, you will stop reading now.  Still here?  At least we're all in good company.

Last week at Pumpkin's 3-1/2 year check up, we talked to the doctor about her unwillingness to do #2 in the toilet, and entertained the possibility that being constipated was a contributing factor.  Since it is impossible to get Pumpkin to eat food that isn't beige in colour, we were told to give her a particular laxative  product that contains mineral oil, which would get things moving more easily.  My recommendation:  DON'T DO THIS!  I'm not going to describe to you the subsequent events after a week of spiking her juice with this product, but you can refer to the title of this post and draw your own conclusions if you feel so inclined.  All I will say is that doing the kind of laundry that I am doing right now does not exactly endear Pumpkin to me all that much right now. 

Are you still here and reading this?  Why?

Just Venting

It isn't new that three year olds bust our chops more often than they behave, but OMG I AM READY TO DRIVE OFF A BRIDGE THIS MORNING!  I don't even want to give you the details because they are too stupid to even think about, but the combination of Pumpkin being an idiot; Chichi crying for whatever reason; dogs tripping me up in every direction; the leaky kitchen faucet; the fact that I have a physical in an hour and consequently am not permitted to eat, drink coffee, or have a shot of whisky, I am ready to break.  Yup, tears and all.  It's probably not great that I'm having my blood pressure tested this morning.  Deep breaths.  Deeeeep breaths.

Been Waiting All Year for This!

Look what day it is!!!!

C'mon baby!  Show me some comment love!

The Big Day

Everyone was told that they were invited to a resort for the week-end to celebrate our having bought land somewhere in cottage country. A few people said that they couldn't make it, but after hearing some privileged information, they found a way to be there. Our immediate families were there, as well as a few other relatives that we happen to like. All of our close friends were there too. Upon arriving at the resort, everyone was shown to his or her room where they were greeted with a giant invitation stuck to the wall such that it couldn't be missed. The invitation read:

We lied!

Please join us tomorrow at noon

on the main dock

to celebrate the marriage of

T & J

Lunch reception to follow.

Engagement party to begin immediately.

(Will our parents please meet us in room 203 right away

to give us our lumps)

The faces were priceless. From shock, to mile anger/amusement, to overall happiness/admiration. This was no small feat to have pulled off! Our parents exhibited a wide range of emotions as well, but after we sold them on the fact that they didn't have to pay a cent, nor did they have to do any planning, plus realizing that there was nothing that they could do about it, they calmed down enough to agree to join the party. This was really the only way we could have had a small wedding with minimal hassle, yet still include our loved ones.

Too bad I only thought of it in hindsight after having our traditional, mega wedding that cost our parents too much and caused them great stress, as many weddings do. I don't know why I periodically spend time planning the kind of wedding that we didn't have, but the fact is that I do, and this blog is the only place that it can manifest itself. So there it is. Does anyone else waste time on this sort of thing?

Year End Wrap Up

School starts again tomorrow!  We got through two weeks of Pumpkin not being in school, and I'm ready for her to go back.  We did our best to keep her busy during her time off, but I'm out of options for her, and am looking forward to a couple of hours of quiet each day.  During her time off, my mom took her to Casa Loma which was doing a Sleeping Beauty theme; I took her to Disney on Ice; my mom took her to attempt to see The Nutcracker (she lasted through the first half); and we had about 4 or 5 playdates.  Kind of tiring for the grown-ups with the exception of one playdate which was a drop-off.  I'm not one to worry, but it was pretty weird for me to be invited to bring my child over to someone's house and then drive away.  Pumpkin crapped her pants before we left so I didn't have to worry about anyone else having to contend with that, but I was kind of nervous about how she would behave.  Apparently she was fine, although I'm not sure that the nanny in charge would have actually told me that Pumpkin was a demon-child. 

Chichi has pretty much been perfect thus far, and I can only pray that her curious observation of Pumpkin's defiance will lead to nothing further than just observation.  She is a much easier baby than Pumpkin was, so hopefully the trend will continue.  Sometimes I feel a little bad about just how much I am enjoying Chichi when I was never able to feel the same way about Pumpkin, but it's sooooo much easier to like a well behaved baby.  Pumpkin basically didn't like her options and wasn't happy until she could crawl.  Chichi has always been all smiles and is just nice to spend time with.  Honestly, she makes my heart explode on a daily basis.  Too bad she's going to be three someday.  

As for the non-mommy stuff, I managed to have a reasonable social holiday season.  We pretty much saw all of our close friends, and I even hosted a couple of events.  I never have anyone over, but now that I have a decent room for entertaining, I'm feeling a little more motivated.  I had my high-school gang over one night in an attempt to recreate the Christmas potluck that we used to have every year back in the good ol' days.  Not everyone could make it but it was still good to see those who came.  I noticed that we all seem to eat and drink a lot less than we used to.  I made up for that the next night as I hosted the annual New Year's reject party.  Yup, that's what it's called.  Every year we make plans with another couple to do the fondue thing, and invite anyone else who has nothing better to do.  We even had a few takers this year!  I'm not actually big on celebrating New Year's, but it's cool to hang out with friends, break out the chocolate fountain and stay up late.  Small pleasures.  

So that's what's been happening over here.  No major fireworks but the year is still young.  Oh yeah, Happy New Year everyone!