Out of Character

Last night, I attended the first of five sessions of a class that deals with the teachings of The Secret. I joined this class for a few reasons. First of all, the class is being held within a two minute walk from my house and I like the idea of taking advantage of something local. Another reason is that I have recently read The Secret, and quite liked the message. I can't say that I bought into every aspect of it, but even if thinking positively about a million dollars does not actually cause a million dollars to land in my lap, I still believe in the power of positive thinking, and know that life would be more enjoyable if I never sat around wallowing in misery. Not that I actually wallow around in misery, but sometimes I do hover on the brink of mild depression, although not very often. I also enrolled in the class as a means of having something in common with my dad. He and I have an ok relationship, but the greatest part of his identity encompasses these teachings, and I have always told him not to bother me with this stuff. He has been practicing such methods for over 30 years, and it has always seemed quite "out there" for me. I know that my participation will please him.

Having an interest in something like this is not very typical of me. I am a practical person, and do not believe that I am "searching" for something, or that I need more fulfillment in my life. I have a very even temperament, and do not show a lot of emotion in most situations. I do laugh a lot, and I do cry sometimes, but mostly I am calm and collected. I am not a cold person, but I don't get overly excited, or react particularly passionately to all the ongoings around me. In keeping with my usual self, I went into the class with the same attitude that would take to a biology class. I don't need this information, but it couldn't hurt to know it. My first impression of the instructor and classmates was that they were flaky. I perceived them as people who are looking for life changes, and looking for new age solutions. I did not identify myself with them at all. I have to admit, although I consider myself to be a kind and tolerant person, I am prone to "lovingly" making fun of people, and that is where I was going in my head as I sat in the room, watching everyone be moved by the instructor. Don't get me wrong, I do buy into most of the message, but I'm not going to be all "Praise the Universe" about it.

In part of the discussion, the instructor talked about disease, and asserted that at the root of all illness, you will find unforgive-ness. By this she meant that holding on to negative feelings about someone will make you physically ill. I challenged this by bringing up the fact that my friend's friend's daughter just died from a brain tumour. She was only three years old. I asked how it could be at all possible that such a young child could harbour enough negative energy to make herself so ill. As with any religion that I have encountered, the reply was that it is not possible to know what her contract with the universe was. This is the same as saying, "we cannot know or understand God's methods". It is kind of a non-answer, if you ask me, but I wasn't going to push it further. The instructor, however, wanted to keep talking about it as part of her lesson on how to think about the little girl's death in a way that does not bring only sadness, but to help to celebrate her life and acknowledge the love that her family will always carry around for her. I will mention again that the little girl is my friend's friend's daughter. I barely know the friend's friend, and didn't know her daughter at all. I couldn't even tell the class what her name was, as I don't think I ever knew it. I have done my best not to think about this subject too much because as the mother of a two year old girl, I find it too horrific to fathom. I cannot think of anything worse than losing my daughter, and I don't want to make myself crazy by imagining and worrying about the possibility. I hide my head in the sand a lot when it comes to upsetting news that I am helpless to do anything about. I used to think that this made me socially irresponsible, but now I believe it is just what I need to do to function every day. The problem for me was that while the instructor continued to discuss this little girl, and ask me questions about her, I became upset. I became upset enough that I started to cry. I cried in front of absolute strangers. One girl started rubbing my back while I cried. A stranger who I perceived to be the "flakiest" of the bunch was rubbing my back, consoling me while I grieved for a family that I barely even know. The instructor tried to help me through this by suggesting how to handle death. Focusing on me made me cry even harder. I went from being the practical, I'm-not-like-the-rest-of-you, skeptic of the group to being the biggest emotional wreck. Worse than the girl who was there to get over her recently, broken heart. Worse than the two people who were there to get over deaths in their own families. The instructor tried to cheer me up by telling me that there is often crying in her classes because of the personal nature of the subject matter, and that I was just starting the group off. That is sooooo not me.

I know it is ok to cry. It just isn't something I like doing, especially publicly. I never cry around my own friends and family, and really hate the idea of doing it. I would say that my friends have only seen me cry once, relating to what seemed like a major crisis about seven years ago, which was probably the last time I cried in front of my mom too. I have always liked the shit-together reputation that I have among the people who know me, but I am starting to think that I have boxed myself into it, and it is starting to get uncomfortable.

Apple Picking

I had one of those great "mommy days" this past Friday. I took my daughter to Chudleigh's Farm for the morning in an effort to enjoy this amazing weather that we have been having. I didn't know if she would let me pick any apples, but I was hoping that the whole farm experience would be appreciated by her on some level. I knew that even if she hated it, I would still score me some of the best pumpkin pie ever, thus justifying the drive to "almost Acton". It turned out to be such a fun day that I think a repeat visit is in order. The first stop was to see the animals, which is always a hit, and helped to stop the tantrum that was forming over some other kid's stuffed toy. Pigs are cooler than stuffed toys.

Then we visited the playground area, complete with a giant slide, swings, and sandbox, where we both spent a lot of energy.

Next, we took a hay-ride to the Macintosh aisle, where we picked some of the tastiest, crunchiest apples I have ever eaten. Pumpkin even sunk her teeth into one, which is pretty much the extent of her fresh-fruit consumption in her life thus far.

Once we finished picking our apples, we carried our loot to the cash, picked up THREE mouthwatering, almost-as-good-as-sex pumpkin pies, and headed off to McDonalds for a "nutritious" meal. As you can tell, I'm not counting calories this week.

Better Than Music Class

I've always been an advocate of letting children entertain themselves, and vowed years ago that when I had kids, I would not be filling each and every minute of their time with lessons and activities. That being said, I don't want Pumpkin to miss out on any cool experiences, so we tend to go to a lot of programs. Pumpkin is always singing, so how can I not put her in a music class? She loves jumping on trampolines, so how can I not buy a membership to the nearby, indoor playground where she can jump to her heart's content? She likes/needs to be able to socialize and follow routine, so how can I not put her in a pre-pre-school program where she learns these things? There are also those programs that we join because my friends ask me to. Yup, I spend a fair bit of time and money on all this stuff, and have scheduled my daughter's life in a way that I never really wanted to. Today's program was cancelled, so rather than packing her up in the car and driving to somewhere else in search of entertainment, I thought it would just be nice to take a long walk from our house down into the nearby valley, and enjoy the remains of summer. A free walk. A walk that didn't require driving anywhere. A walk with no retail component. A walk that was more entertaining to Pumpkin than all her activities combined. First there was the giggly run down the path to the valley where her legs almost got away from her. Then there was the time spent standing on the bridge, watching the water, and looking for ducks. There were several encounters with dogs, to her delight. There was what seemed like half an hour of Pumpkin picking up gravel from the path, dropping it, then dusting her hands off, while shouting, "All clean!". There were sticks to pick up, weeds to trod through, and tall weeds that I was required to tie around her waist such that she could break out of their embrace, only to have me tie them around her again. After two hours in the valley, I finally had to pick her up of the ground where she was examining rocks, stuff her in her wagon, and bribe her with juice and cookies, just so we could get home. I don't know why I join all these stupid programs when I could just be playing outside my door? The outdoors is probably so much better for her too. See if I still feel this way when the cold weather hits.

Happy New Year.

I really don't enjoy this time of year. For those who don't know, we are currently celebrating the Jewish New Year. Although I am Jewish, I was not raised with much of a Jewish influence, so it is all quite foreign to me. My husband's family is not religious, but they believe in maintaining the culture, which is why we endure two days in the synagogue, two meals where we eat until we feel ill, then a 24 hour fast complete with another day in the synagogue, then a breaking of the fast that usually takes place at my house at 9 pm, where we eat until we feel ill once again. If that was all there was to it, I probably wouldn't complain, but there are always the added stresses that come along with this whole ritual. The problem for me with going to our particular synagogue is that it is meaningless to me. For one thing, the service is in Hebrew, so I am essentially taking up space during most of the service. There is an English sermon, but I have missed it so many times because J won't let us leave the house early enough to actually get there in time for it. In fact, I would say that 80% of the fights we have had have been a result of him making us late for these services. He doesn't want to go, but he goes to make his parents happy. We don't ever see his parents there because the place is packed, so we could easily make his parents as happy by just telling them that we went. I'm sure this idea is sacrilege, but it's true, nonetheless. So we get there quite late, miss the only understandable part of the service, have to park at least a 15 minute walk away, only discover that we can't get a seat, despite having spent over $1000 just to get these tickets for attending the services on these specific days. Non-Jewish people usually gasp when they hear that part. I would feel so much more spiritually complete if I could give that money to ANY charity. Once we discover that we can't get seats, we wander around to all the other services in the building, trying to find a place where we can sit for an hour so we can (???) So we spend a pile of money for tickets to an event that neither of us wants to attend, and that neither of us understands, just so we can please two people who don't actually witness our attendance. I have a difficult time with this. The English sermon is probably only important to me because it is the only possible opportunity for me to justify this entire process. I might be moved.

I am in no way trying to cast disrespect upon the culture/religion. I am sure there are many who love this time of year and who eagerly adhere to the ritual of praying, feasting, praying, fasting, praying, and feasting again. I am just a little resentful of the way I am forced to participate. I am not willing to start any sort of fight within J's family over this. This is what they do, so it is what I will do. I'm still gonna complain though.

Blah Blah Blah

It's a typical night in our house. Pumpkin is asleep, J is working out, and I am desperately rummaging through the pantry in hopes of finding a morsel of chocolate or something that will satisfy me enough to stop eating. I just discovered that pistachio nuts go stale, while candy sprinkles do not seem to. Definitely culinary rock-bottom over here. I didn't even make dinner. Dinner prep time was forfeited in favour of physiotherapy, which made it a good night for Chinese take-out. We managed to get out for another round of mountain biking this past week-end, and now I am suffering for it, hence the physio appointment. We used to cycle every week-end as long as there was no snow, and now one day of fairly tame riding sends my neck into spasms. The upside is that I do so enjoy when the physiotherapist attaches electrodes to my neck and turns me into a human bobble head. Don't knock it until you try it! Anyhow, no more biking or biking opportunities for a while, so I'm still glad I got out, despite my inability to lift my arm over my head right now. Yup. Worth it. I'll just keep repeating that until it becomes true.

D'oh!

When I saw the weather forecast for this morning, I thought that it would be a good day to hit the water park at Canada's Wonderland. At no point did it occur to me that the park would be closed due to all the staff starting grade 10 this week. Sometimes I forget that the world does not revolve around me. Sadly, I had Pumpkin all excited about going on a water slide. We went on one earlier in the season, and she just loved it. So we got to the entrance of the park, only to be denied access.

I had to somehow redirect her excitement to the splash pad near our house, 'cause that was the best I could do on short notice. Two-year-olds are great that way. I don't know if she understood when I told her that the slide was broken, but she was just as excited when we got out of the car at the familiar park, and saw the same splash pad that she has frequented all summer long. I was the only sad one - I really wanted to go on the water slide!

Dogbook?

Facebook seems to have arrived at new heights. Yesterday, I received a friend request through dogbook, which I guess is a application of facebook. I am now friends with a pug. Is it me, or is that just messed up? Take your dog to the park!!!

Enjoying the Long Week-End

It was a pretty social, long week end for us over here in the land of homebodies. None of our friends with kids were able to get away, (friends without kids were all drunk in a provincial park somewhere), so we managed to catch up with several of them who we usually have a hard time planning things with. We even managed to have a few drinks on my BRAND SPANKIN' NEW PATIO (!!!) that was just installed last week. You'll have to excuse my excitement on the patio issue. Nothing EVER gets done around here so I'm still in a state of shock from actually having it done. Keep in mind that my husband is in construction/property management, so you'd think we'd be able to get a contractor over here a little more easily than we actually can.

In addition to all the socializing that we did, we managed to get out for a day of mountain biking! Before we were parents, we were avid mountain bikers. When J and I first started dating, we went riding a few times, but then broke up a few months into the relationship. Then we both separately befriended another man, R, who was also into biking. I was kind of interested in this other guy, but every time he invited me to go biking, he would later invite J to come along with us. Yeah, I get it - R wasn't that into me. Nonetheless, J and I found ourselves hanging out a lot every week because we both wanted to go biking with R. Biking led to apres-bike activities, which eventually led to J and I tangled up together on my living room sofa once again. I have always felt that without mountain biking, there would be no "us". I suppose we can give R some credit too. Yesterday we biked for the first time this year. We probably could have gone out sooner in the summer, but we were kept off the trails due to a combination of J's mom having major surgery, lack of motivation, and bikes needing tune-ups. We also don't have day-time babysitting on week-ends, which doesn't help. Anyhow, mom was around yesterday, so she kicked us out into the woods. It took us a little while to get our shit together (2 hours just to get our equipment organized due to some malfunction J was trying to repair), but we finally made it to the Durham Forest. We probably only rode for 1-1/2 hours total, but it felt great. Mountain biking is an activity that brings J and I closer, despite all the b/o and pudgy bits that now show through our spandex. It's almost a spiritual event, (the biking, not the spandex). As always, we finished the day-trip at McDonalds, enjoying milkshakes and wishing that we had more willpower. A good week-end overall.

Probably Not, But Maybe Still...

We are in baby-making limbo. We aren't trying, but we aren't preventing. To be trying is to have made a firm decision, which is something my husband isn't good at for life's bigger issues. He didn't agree to make a baby the first time. A doctor in a lab coat tinkered with my "parts", then told us to go home and have sex three times a week. We weren't actually at the doctor's office to get pregnant per se, but we wanted it to be possible to do when we decided to start trying. Nonetheless, we followed the doctor's orders, and three weeks later, we were expecting. Anyhow, since we needed a bit of assistance getting pregnant last time, I don't expect to get pregnant by simply not preventing. Infrequent ovulation was the actual problem but my body has changed a bit since I carried Pumpkin, so there is always the possibility that we will be able to do it on our own. It is that possibility that messes with my head throughout each day. Last week, while I was having a sugar craving, my thoughts led me to wanting a Vachon Passion Flakie. The sugar craving is not interesting for me, but the Flakie is. I only ate those when I was pregnant. I tried one after Pumpkin was born, but didn't really enjoy it like I did when I was "eating for two". Incidentally, if I ever do get pregnant again, I will refrain from buying Flakies by the box. They are 270 calories each, and eating four in one sitting is probably not advisable, no matter how many people I might be eating for. Anyhow, when I had the craving, I had to ask myself if this was a pregnancy-thing, or just a regular sugar-thing? Now, throughout the day I try to imagine myself eating a Flakie, just to see if I really want one. If I do, does that mean I'm pregnant? Then I move on to other signs. Are my breasts sensitive? They were last time. (Give myself a squeeze) Hmmm, is that regular sensitivity or pregnancy sensitivity. Now they hurt. Is that because I'm pregnant or because I just mutilated myself? I DO feel nauseous! Is that because I'm pregnant or is it because I ate cold mac & cheese for dinner last night? I have cramp! I had those at the beginning of my last pregnancy! Am I pregnant or do I just have gas? Could I have gas because I'm pregnant? I don't remember! Is this headache/backache because I'm pregnant or does it have to do with daily activities with a toddler? Am I horny because I'm pregnant or is it just because my husbands bad back has kept us from having fun all week? Do I have an aversion to lunch right now because I'm pregnant or is it that my food options are not so good? It goes on and on. Fortunately for my husband, this is all internal dialogue. I have no clue what my point is, except that this unprotected-sex-thing is messing with my head.

Nothing Earth Shattering

While I sit around, anxiously awaiting someone at VH1 to upload the highlights from today's episode of Scott Baio is 45 and Single, I figured I'd recap my day. My friend who lives in Sarnia came for a visit with her 2-1/2-year-old, which is always amazing because I don't see them very often. Of my high school friends, there are only two with children, and neither of them live close by, which really sucks. My Sarnia-friend's daughter and Pumpkin play very nicely together, and at the end of play-time, they were hugging and kissing each other. I am still waiting for Pumpkin to voluntarily kiss me, but for now I will enjoy the fact that she has developed the social skills to at least kiss her friend.

At some point this morning, my dog managed to get a huge gash on his back, the kind of gash that you just know is going to cost no less than $150, but possibly more. I think my other dog is the one who gave him his injury, as she is always jumping all over him, sometimes using him as a spring-board to get to wherever she is going. I guess it's time to cut her nails. We got back from the vet just a few hours ago, a little poorer, but have 5 staples to show for it. The dog is a trooper though. It didn't impede his attempts to steal our food at all.

I got a call from the guy who is supposed to build us a new patio. He told me that he is starting tomorrow and that he will have it done by Friday. Note that nothing around here ever gets done, despite our attempts to actually pay contractors to do the work. We hired the patio guy in May, and although patio season is coming to a close, I'm still overjoyed that he is coming. It's one less thing to be annoyed about. Incidentally, last year a different contractor told me that he was going to build us a deck as a present to my husband who has been so good to him over the years. He told me that my FIL actually gave him the money to buy the wood, and that he was going to build it over the course of a week in May of 2006. I stopped waiting for him by August of last year. In the big picture, this isn't a real problem, but like I said, once it's done it will be one less thing to be annoyed about. Don't get me started on the family room reno.

In the Dog House

On Friday, I took my dog to the groomer's. The usual groomer who I was expecting was no longer working there, so I dealt with a new girl, who I assumed had experience in the dog grooming field. My dog is a mix of something, but if I were to guess, I would say that he is part Australian Shepherd, part Collie. Those breeds have a pretty standard hair style, which is the look that we have been going with.

It has been warm lately and he has been shedding A LOT, so I asked the girl to go a little shorter so he doesn't get so hot. I even added, "but not so short that he looks stupid". I guess when it comes to these things, it is better to bring in a picture, or say exactly how much hair you want cut off. Leaving things up to interpretation may get you something you didn't quite want. She totally buzzed him! He looks like a fuzzy pit-bull with a big head. When I picked him up, I was kind of in shock, but didn't see the point in getting upset because a) I was somewhat amused, b) there will be fewer hair balls floating around my house, c) he will be cooler for the rest of the summer, and d) I've always wondered what he would look like shaved. My only concern was the reaction from my husband since his dogs are his first love, and he would see no silver lining here. (I really do believe that he loves me and Pumpkin more, but the dogs still get a good portion of his affection) I would say that upon bringing the dog home on Friday afternoon, my husband yelled at me for maybe the 2nd or 3rd time in our 11 years together. He kind-of got over being angry at me, but he is still fuming and wants to give the groomer a piece of his mind. I doubt he will, but he is quite pissed. As for how the dog feels about his new look...

I'll Shut Up Now

I took Pumpkin to her music class yesterday. It was a cool, windy day, and not very August-like. Everyone looked sad, and tired, and of course they started to complain about the weather. When the weather-talk died down, we moved on to how tired we all were. Incidentally, I have no business being tired. My kid sleeps from 8:30 to 8 everyday, and also takes a 3 hour nap every afternoon. If I could lay blame anywhere for my "fatigue", it would be on Jay Leno, not the fact that I am a mother of a two-year-old. That does not negate the fact that I do feel exhausted, it's just that I don't have a good excuse for feeling this way. Nonetheless, in this room full of moms, I wanted to bond with them in sleepless-ness. I turned to the one sitting next to me and rhetorically asked, "am I ever going to feel well rested again?"
"Not for a long time", was the reply with a chuckle. She continued, "I'm still breastfeeding this one, and he still gets me up for it in the night." (her child is at least two-years old). She went on to explain, "My other kids are older and don't need me 24/7, but this one requires my full attention, all the time."
"How many kids do you have?", I inquired.
"Six."
...and that is the last time you will hear me complain to another mom that I am tired.

Doll Abuse

I used to hang my dolls. I didn't realize the implications of hanging, but I just wasn't into dolls and it seemed like a reasonable thing to do with them at the time. I know I was no older than six, but probably younger. All the belts in the house were gathered up for this purpose, and were wrapped around the dolls, then attached to the banister that overlooked our front door, and was directly over the stairs leading to the basement. It was always a treat to hit one's head on hanging dolls on the way up from the basement. My parents thought it odd but funny, while the babysitter didn't see any humour in this at all. As I mentioned earlier, I wasn't trying to "kill" them. I don't think I knew anything about hanging as a means to kill. I just didn't want to play with dolls really, but since people periodically gave them to me as presents, I hung them. What can I tell you? My mom still likes to get mileage out of this story when she is talking to my in laws, along with the story about how I used to use fridge magnets to spell out the F-word. (Thanks mom). My daughter, on the other hand, loves dolls. I'm kind of glad for this because in the current era of political correctness, she would probably be kicked out of pre-school if word of any doll hangings were to surface. She is cute when she plays with dolls. She hugs them tightly, and says, "Awwwww, nice hug!" If she drops one, she picks it up and says, "Sorry, sorry...you're ok." I'm not too fond of when she throws them and tells them that they're ok, but I assure you that this is not a reflection of anything she has experienced here. Dolls have even saved bath-time around here as it has been a nightmare trying to get Pumpkin into the tub these days. It occurred to me that I should toss a plastic doll into the tub to lure her in. Now I can't get her out of the tub. This has to be innate. If I were to shape a child with my own ideas, she'd be a total tomboy. She is a real girl, who asks to wear her dresses, plays with dolls, and pretend to drink tea. I don't know where she came from.

Toronto Harbour

Yesterday I did something new in my own city and couldn't believe that I had never experienced it before. We went to hang out with some relatives of ours who belong to a yacht club on Centre Island. Actually, it was one of the islands near Centre Island but I don't know its name. It was so weird to be so close to downtown yet feel like I was in Muskoka. I kind of likened it to a trailer park, based on my own trailer park experiences (thanks, Dad). There was a club-house for adults, a club-house for kids, a playground with arts and crafts, a pool, and a population of floating "trailers". It was definitely a throw-back to my own childhood where my parents did their own thing, and the kids ran about on their own and were not worried about. We went out for a spin in the harbour, and toured a land that I almost didn't recognize. To my right was the city as I know it. To my left was the island, looking almost serene, and not part of this city that I have lived in since I was seven. I enjoyed switching my focus back and forth to juxtapose the two scenes, wondering how come I never even bothered to take a tour of the harbour that has been at my doorstep all these years. As for Pumpkin, well, we kept her up too long. She was in overtired mode, which kept me hopping around the boat making sure that she didn't jump overboard. Despite her delirium, I think she enjoyed her day. It always makes me feel mom-like to provide her with new events and experiences.

Just as an aside, the other day I took Pumpkin to the Beach, where she felt that she had to approach every dog owner on the boardwalk. One owner stopped to talk to us, and said to Pumpkin, "How are you?" Pumpkin replied, "I make poo poo!" Unfortunate for me, but at least the dog owner had a good chuckle.

Self Indulgence

So today was a pretty good day for me. It began with a shopping trip to buy "Mister Right" in-a-bottle. Yes, this product is available, although may be disappointing to some when they find out that it is just a hair product. Incidentally, if you have curly hair and are having a difficult time with it like I did for, oh, 30 years or so, this product line is amazing. I managed to lose the Roseanne Roseannadanna-look in favour of something, well, nicer. I'm not trying to sell anything - I'm just hoping to spread a little happiness in the curly hair world. Anyhow, while I was mid-town, I finally managed to remember the gift certificates that I've been carrying around for the past five years for Sporting Life. I probably wouldn't have remembered them if it weren't for my revealing the contents of my purse the other day, when stumbled upon these certificates for the umpteenth time. They went towards a casual, linen jacket that fits me the way that Stacey and Clinton would want it to.

Later in the day, I left Pumpkin with my mom and went for a physio-therapy appointment, which I am starting to prefer to an actual massage. I've had issues in my neck and arms since Pumpkin came along, and I always get relief for this when I go to physio. I especially enjoy having electrodes attached to my neck, forcing my head to jerk around involuntarily for a good 10 minutes. I'm not kidding. I really like it.

When I got home from physio, my husband called to say that he was going out with "the boys", so he wouldn't be home for dinner. This is a dangerous thing to happen to me. The pressure to prepare a decent meal is not there when I'm eating by myself. Pumpkin eats stuff that I wouldn't eat, and vice versa, so it's not like I have to consider her when it comes to feeding myself. That led me to the white cupcakes, iced with canned vanilla icing, that I made the other day. I LOVE crappy, white cake. Don't feed me anything fancy for dessert - just refined sugar and flour please! I don't normally keep these in the house, but I had a visit with a good friend of mine yesterday, and crappy, white cake is just the thing we like to bond over. I decide that I really need to eat something more nutritious, so I simply had a spoon of the left-over icing, then prepared a plate of fruit and cottage cheese. I thought of having another spoon of icing for dessert, then thought better of it and had an actual cupcake - followed by another spoon of icing. Yup, it's been a good day!

Toddler Pin-Ball

Our basement is pretty much a toy room. We keep all the big toys down there, along with my husbands toy, his pinball machine. I don't really like hanging out in the basement, especially on a nice, sunny day, so Pumpkin views it as a real treat to go down there. One would hope that it would have something to do with the slide, or the mini-kitchen, or the play dough, or the drawing supplies, but it doesn't. All she wants to do is make me play pinball so she can watch. Toddler pinball is a little different than what you are used to. You either have to sit on a bar stool with your child standing up right in front of you on the same stool, or if you are tall enough, you can stand behind the bar stool. Either way, it's hard to see. It kind of turns it into a bit of a sport. Visibility is the biggest issue, especially when she leans forward to bang on the glass, obscuring total view of the flippers. Then you have to wrestle a bit over the flipper buttons, all the while trying not to breath because of that which lurks in the diaper before you. I got up to 13,000,000 points today! Does anyone want to challenge me?

So I'm still the only one I know who is watching, Scott Baio is 45 and Single, and I'm kind of sad about that. I have no one to talk to at the hypothetical water cooler about it. I'm still watching it on line since we don't get the channel on cable. It is soooooo frickin' funny. Part of Scott Baio's "therapy" this week was for him to attend a "cuddle party", to engage in intimate, yet non-sexual contact. I'm not going to get into what happened on the actual show, but I would really like to address the topic of cuddle parties? WHY WHY WHY WHY would anyone want to go to one? It's a bunch of strangers, coming together to spoon each other! WHY WHY WHY? Just so you know where I am coming from, I have a rather large space cushion. Very few people are allowed in my space. To be honest, the only people I want touching me are my husband and daughter. I don't particularly like hugging my parents, and I really really really hate it when my dad grabs my face and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. He doesn't get me, and continues to do that every time I see him. My friend once tried to join me and another friend on a love seat and I had to jump off. We could all fit on it, but I cannot sit while touching thighs with other people. I can't say for sure where this "problem" of mine comes from, but I do recall swatting off my parents friends when they all wanted to hug and kiss me when I was small enough to appear huggable and kissable. I don't think I have had any REAL episodes of unwanted touching in my life, aside from the odd octopus-of-a-guy I may have dated, and who wanted to see what he could get away with. I think I would have a real anxiety attack if forced to participate in a cuddle party. Does anyone think this isn't creepy?

Week-End Wrap-up

Ok, it turns out the song playing in my head each morning is just residual of whatever I heard on the radio in the car that day, and since I listen to a crappy radio station due to lack of better options, I'm not bothering to mention it again. I am actually in need of musical help. When I was in school, I had the influence of my friends to introduce me to new songs/bands. Either I'd hear new stuff in a dorm, or a club or someplace social. When I had a far enough drive to work, I listened to The Edge, which was ok, but kind of repetitive, and now too hard for my aging ears and two-year-old passenger. Nowadays, new music consists of The Doodle Bops, Wiggles, and whatever else Pumpkin requests. This leaves me stuck in the '90s, listening to Oasis, Our Lady Peace, Cranberries, etc. for my own pleasure. I want to maintain some sort of musical identity, but I don't know how to keep current, except for top 40 pop, which is starting to drive me crazy. Any suggestions on where to listen?

This was one busy-ass week-end. Every time Pumpkin woke up from whatever, I was stuffing her in the car to race her off to somewhere. I spent my entire week-end on the 407 and 404. On Saturday morning, I went to my friend's open house, for the purpose of meeting his 18-month-old daughter that he and his wife just adopted from Russia. It is beyond amazing just how quickly they all became family. There is as much love in that family as there is in my own, and there are just as many toys taking over their house too. It's a beautiful thing. It did get me comparing their adoption experience to that of my other friend who adopted a baby two years ago. My other friend got her newborn son through a private adoption. She knew a doctor who had a patient who didn't want to keep her baby, and 6 weeks later, it was all arranged. In contrast, my friend from Saturday had a nine-month ordeal with the Russian adoption agency, lots of travel, lots of waiting, lots of uncertainty, and lots of tears. I don't know what to make of this disparity of processes, but it is completely messed up. The end of the story is the same for both couples, which I guess is what counts, but I dunno. Like everything, we need a better system.

STOP THE MUSIC!!!

The running-through-my-head song of the day was planted by Motherbumper with her post about Poison's Unskinny Bop, and her subsequent mention of it being contagious. Although she did manage to pass on the Unskinny Bop virus, there has been a mutation. My memory of the song is screwy, and it keeps morphing into Neutron Dance by the Pointer Sisters. It kind of goes "unskinny bop , and the rent is due I've got no place to stay". Naturally I don't know any other lyrics, so I get to enjoy those ones, over and over.....It's not good. I'm a little miffed that Neutron Dance is actually occupying any of my memory cells when I can't remember to water my plants! Wouldn't it be cool in an Eternal-Sunshine-of-the-Spotless-Mind sort-of way to have all useless memories deleted, just for the purpose of freeing up some space? Would the space even be re-usable? It's a little difficult for me to contemplate for long with the GODDAMN POISON SISTERS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD!!! Thanks MB.

Time Well Wasted

I'm so glad I left my job so I could have the opportunity to do this in the middle of the day. I like the game that I stumbled onto at Mother Bumpers' and at Her Bad Mother's so I figured I'd join in instead of cleaning the kitchen, or brushing the dogs, or vacuuming up the crushed crackers and Cheerios out of my car, or.......you get the picture. Behold, the contents of my purse, bag, or whatever you want to call it:



1. Mac lipstic, Midimauve. I never wear it, and it isn't a good colour for me, but I keep it on hand for no reason whatsoever.
2. Two tampons. I don't need 'em today, but you never know...
3. Free dental floss from my last check-up. I forgot about it until now, but I suppose it's a good thing to carry around.
4. $30 in gift certificates for Sporting Life. I got them for my 30th birthday (I'll be 35 soon). I've even shopped there recently but forgot to use them.
5. Gift cards - I traded in aeroplan points for shopping money. Although I got way less value out of my points vs. airline tickets, I ain't goin' anywhere soon, so why not shop instead.
6. A Starbucks gift card with $1 on it. I suppose I'll be carrying that around until the end of time.
7. A Town Shoes club card. It was stamped 3 times in one shot last year, and nothing since. No expiry date though!
8. Lotto 649 and Super 7 lottery tickets. I've played the same numbers for the past 17 years.
9. Benadryl, in case you invite me over and have a cat, bunny, horse, or hampster.
10. Links removed from a bracelet, and from a watch. My wrists must be shrinking
11. Coupons for diapers. I'll probably forget to use them
12. Loose change
13. A free drink voucher from Starbucks, given to me to compensate for lousy service. I didn't even think the service was bad, but they insisted.
14. Cell phone
15. Hand cream
16. Wallet
17. Keys
18. An unfinished Sudoku puzzle that I started in the waiting room at the doctors office . It's not finished because I forgot about it, not because it's too hard. I swear.

If you happen to know what all this says about me, feel free to send over an analysis.

Diaper Fun

First things first: I want to set up a blog roll but really have no clue how. I need someone to speak to me like I'm four. If you think you can do it, feel free to pass on some wisdom, otherwise I will continue to have only 3 links to other blogs on my page.

Pumpkin and I went to Canada's Wonderland this morning, which was a nice time. It's good to go with just Pumpkin, rather than a group of people, for it seems less likely that I will purchase a funnel cake when no other adults are there to encourage me. My husband's office is nearby, so when the crowds got too big for my liking, we left and met my husband for lunch. We ended up at McDonalds, which makes me think I may as well have had the funnel cake, but whatever. During our meal, Pumpkin said "pee pee potty", which means, "my diaper needs changing and I'm never going to pee on the potty so stop getting your hopes up". I picked her up and noticed that her pants were damp. Her diaper was dry before getting into the restaurant, so she must have been holding it all morning to let 'er rip while we were trying to eat. So I pull off her pants, toss them in the bag, and pull off her Pull-Up diaper. Since I figured we were just dealing with pee, I just yanked away the diaper from under her while she was standing. I guess it is always a good thing to check the contents of a diaper before removing it this way. Needless to say, I don't recommend walking around in bare feet in the washroom at McDonalds at Hwy 400 and Steeles. Looking at my daughters poo that had been flung onto the floor, I was reminded of "sky dumping", a favourite past-time of some of the guys in high school. If you ever participated in his activity, "What the hell is the matter with you???" That aside, I cleaned up the floor as much as I could with only toilette paper and wet-wipes as cleaning supplies. Pretty gross.