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Down filled.

Doesn't smell very good.

Cushions can be machine washed but take four days to dry.

You pick it up. (Thornhill, ON)

Dogs not included

Shaking My Head Over This One

This was a little disappointing:

I guess I could have read the box and noted that there were 15 of these unfulfilling snack cakes inside, but I just guestimated that 100 calories would be about three times larger, with maybe 6 cakes in the box. I'm also a little worried about how many calories are in the regular-size May West cake as I tend to eat them by the box-load when I can find them. That explains the more-rapid-than-usual weight gain over the past few weeks. Shame on my unborn child for craving edible oil products so badly!!!!!

End of Week Wrap-Up

This week in pregnancy, I am now sleeping with eight pillows in order to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Consequently, I feel pain all day long in my neck and lower back. The baby is, however, doing very well. I had an ultrasound on Tuesday, and the Dr. is happy with whatever he saw. I can't say that I'm all that enthused though. Based on recent pictures, I'm having a baby who looks a bit like a cross between Gary Coleman and Alfred Hitchcock. I had better change my diet while I can still fix this. I will stop eating Jos Louis cakes, a relative of the Twinkie, and replace them with Oreo Cakesters. Have I mentioned that I know the sex of the baby but that my husband has decided to wait to find out? I have become very good at using the pronoun, "it". We have had to argue about baby names for both sexes. He is convinced that we're having a boy, which may or may not be the case. I guess that's all I can say on the matter for now.

This week in random thoughts:

1. I am shopping for a patio set, comparing sets of similar materials, and am trying to decide if the expensive sets are actually better than the cheap ones, or if the people who pay more are just stupid. The cord blood episode from last week has me looking to save a buck, (and appear less stupid).

2. On my Facebook account, I have the function that updates me whenever there is a new toy recall. For the record, at least once a week, I get informed of at toy that violates lead safety standards. AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK! A lot of the products are distributed by dollar stores, but not all of them. If you use Facebook, this is a worthwhile application if you are logging on regularly. I don't know if I'd remember to check the other sites for recalls often enough.

3. I tried to see what would happen if I put Pumpkin in underwear today, instead of a diaper. She had an accident, which she didn't like, so I changed her into a new pair of underwear and pants. She had another accident within five minutes. She wasn't in the least bit concerned, and just demanded that we go upstairs and change again. I'm thinking that this may not be the right way to go yet.

4. A fellow mommy and I were discussing Anthony of the Wiggles, and are trying to figure out if he had plastic surgery or if he has just aged well. We can't figure out what's different, but we know that something is, besides his teeth. Does anyone know the scoop? (Yes, we do have better things to do with our time)

5. I just came back from The Bay, a fabulous store that took back all of my BPA tainted, breast-feeding paraphernalia, and gave me store credit! That's a whole lot of credit given how much an Avent breast pump costs. Ok, who can tell me which brand to buy for baby #2?

Hmmm, I think that's all I have for now, unless you want to hear about my latest sausage fetish that was brought on by the new BBQ season. Didn't think so.

Shopping for His Grandaughter

My FIL is one of Pumpkin's biggest fans. Although he is not in the greatest of health, he has never hesitated to get down with her on the floor to play with dolls, or cars or whatever. She picked him as one of her favourites right from the beginning, and he has been all about her ever since. Now that my MIL is no longer with us, I have made an effort to make sure that he gets his fill of "Pumpkin time" every week. I know that he is still quite depressed about losing my MIL just a couple of months ago, but I see that being around Pumpkin causes him to smile genuinely. He probably appreciates spending time with hubby and I too, but I can accept that our primary function is to be his and Pumpkin's chauffeurs. For the past few weeks, my FIL has been saying that he wanted to take Pumpkin shopping for a summer outfit. We finally did that today, and it was just as sweet of an event as I thought it would be. First we picked out some summer shoes, which Pumpkin enjoyed doing, being the girly-girl that she is. While my FIL paid, I told her to say, "thank-you Zaidy", to which she replied, "tank- you Zwaiby". He was so proud as he turned to the sales clerk and bragged about how he was "Zwaiby", and not "Zaidy". The same scene played itself out when we went into another store to buy a dress. We then went for lunch where Pumpkin was on her absolute best restaurant behaviour, which is starting to become a trend! It took three years to get to a point where we could take her to a restaurant, and now we're adding a new-born to the mix. I guess it'll only be another three years before we can all dine together as a family in fine establishment such as Pizza Hut or something. Anyhow, as per every time I've left a restaurant with my FIL, he suggested getting a frozen yogurt. I left Pumpkin with my FIL and his health-care-worker to go buy yogurt while I checked a nearby store for a pair of Crocs for Pumpkin. Yes, Crocs are ugly, but their all-rubber construction allows them to wash well in the event of a dog-poo mishap, so they are the preferred shoe of my backyard. No luck though - her size seems to be a tough one to find. I came back to find Pumpkin with her own tub of frozen yogurt, and a rather chocolaty face. I think both of them were pleased with this particular outing. Sometimes it doesn't take much to make a toddler and a Zwaiby smile.

Cord Blood Banking

I picked up a cord blood collection kit for my unborn child today. I did the same thing for Pumpkin before she was born too. Cord blood is rich in stem cells, which, if banked, may save the lives of my children one day if they ever need some sort of stem cell therapy. It's basically an insurance policy that I hope is never needed. I think that's the case with almost all insurance policies though. When I was registering today, I asked the person helping me how many times they've had a client actually need to use their banked cord blood. "Once" was the reply. "But it worked out very well!", she added. They've been banking blood for 10 years. It is good to know that there is a strong likelihood that we will never need to make a withdrawal ourselves, but that being said, is it really a good idea to have invested in this? When I first left the office in a daze of disbelief, after paying the initial fees of more than $800 (!!!!!), I thought about people who just don't have the money for cord blood banking. I wondered why they government hasn't stepped in to ensure that people of all economic backgrounds could have this sort of insurance. Then I spoke with my husband, who half joked that we really didn't need to do this for the second child given that the batch that we collected from Pumpkin would probably be compatible with any other children we have. If only one person has ever withdrawn their blood from our particular bank, what are the odds that two children from the same family will need to make a withdrawal? He's right, you know. I don't know why he didn't offer that thought when we agreed to do this for our second child. I started feeling like a sucker. Is this overkill or am I being ridiculous even questioning it? I'm sure the family of the one person who actually needed his or her cord blood will say it is justified, but given how rarely anyone needs to do that, I have to ask if this is just one more way of taking advantage of a generation of parents who will buy almost anything for their kids? Did any of you bank your children's blood?

Passover à la Mac & Cheese

I hosted a Seder dinner, sort of. I didn't host in the same manner as Urban Mommy did, but I was listed as a host for the dinner that we had yesterday. We decided to hold the event at my FIL's house since my MIL would have been hosting it if she were alive, so we felt it was appropriate to hold it there in her honour. Ironically enough, I am pretty sure that Passover was her least favourite time of the year, specifically because of that dinner. She always had to return early from her winter in Florida just to start cooking, then deal with the stress of having 25 people in her dining room. She never seemed too happy about it. Nonetheless, it still seemed like the appropriate venue. It also helps that my FIL has a set of Passover dishes, enough seating, and no slobbering dogs. I didn't actually do any cooking as we decided to have it catered, and I didn't actually call the caterer since my SIL took care of that. My FIL actually paid for the food, so I can't take any credit for that either. I didn't actually take care of the serving or cleaning since my FIL and SIL hired their care worker and nanny to handle such things, so I guess you can say that I didn't host the Seder at all, except that I intended to, and was therefore assigned the title of "host" by my SIL, who was just being kind to me. The upside to all this is that I have now witnessed the preparation for a Seder, and now know that I could do it myself if I absolutely had to, assuming that I could hire the same group of people to make it happen. I suck.

A Quick Funny, if You Like this Sort of Thing.

On our way out the door tonight, Pumpkin, who won't hear of toilet training, announced that she had a poo in her diaper and needed it to be changed. Once I had taken care of that, she requested that she get to say, "bye bye poo poo", by watching me dump the diaper contents in the toilet, which is what we always do. Upon watching me deposit the offending turd into it's rightful receptacle, Pumpkin exclaimed, "That's disgusting!". I'm glad she thinks so.

Staying Close

I just need to bitch about the discomfort of wearing a bra during this pregnancy one more time. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Ok that was three times. Whatever. Don't try to recommend a good bra to me - I've tried several. It's all bad and I'm just gonna have to suffer until the baby is out and then switch to complaining about being engorged all the time. God, I really hate the word, "engorged". They need to come up with another word to describe what happens when one's boobs fill up with so much milk that they become big enough for one to rest one's own chin on. Ok, enough of that. Tonight I went out with a good friend to shop for some clothes for her birthday. This is someone who I have been friends with for 28 years, and it is quite ritual to buy each other gifts this way. I think the evening out together is more important than the actual gift-buying, but it does give us the excuse to get together. We shouldn't need an excuse, but with family and career taking up almost all of her time, we don't get together nearly as much as we should. Not that I don't have a family taking up my time, but I'm not nearly as busy as she is. We had some good conversations tonight, and I would have to say that it has probably been at least six months since the last time we had a chance to talk about something other than kids, or her latest discovery in the world of health foods. I was actually feeling bad about my lack of "real" communication with this friend when I contemplated our relationship earlier this year. I never thought of my friendships as things that need work, but clearly, I was wrong. Friends come and go in a person's life, but with someone I’ve known since grade one, it is not acceptable for me to shrug and wonder if we have anything in common anymore. Tonight I discovered that we still have a lot to talk about, but without making an effort to have an occasional night out, we seem to lose site of our true friendship, and just go through the motions of being friends without any meaningfulness. So, as we do every time, we vowed to get together more often, although we typically never follow through. I think this time I will make sure we stick to our vow, as I now realize how imperative it is to make sure we don’t lose ourselves in the craziness of everyday life. Friendships like this don’t come around too often, so if it requires a bit of effort, so be it. It's worth it. (even if this friend never reads my blog!)

It's Sad When the Commercials are Better than the Actual Show

To close off my evening tonight, I made myself a hot drink, put my feet up, and decided to watch a mindless half hour of The Bachelor. I was a little disgusted with the show itself, although I did manage to have a good laugh during the commercial breaks. I saw a yeast infection treatment commercial where one woman's vajay-jay swore a blue streak until it was treated, and then it started squealing with delight at the idea of a bike ride. There was also a toilet paper commercial where one bear noticed that the other bear had toilet paper debris stuck to ass as a result of using the cheap stuff. The commercials didn't sink as low as the actual show, but I would have to say that the advertisers know their market.

Good Times

I just want to take a moment to say what a great time I had on Saturday night at a gathering of a of bloggers, as arranged by the lovely Sandra of Blog Chocolate. The venue was perfect for mixing and mingling, as I had a chance to chat with some of the folks that I had only met on-line, as well as a few that I had met once or twice before in person. Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to talk to everyone at length, as there were so many of us, and as always, so little time. I gauge my good time by the fact that my back was killing me, it was getting late, yet I still didn't manage to leave early as I had planned to. You know it's a good time when one does not play one's "pregnancy card" to make a quick getaway. In addition to catching up with the few bloggers whom I have met before, I had the very cool experience of meeting more people in person after reading about them for so long. They may have appeared to be strangers at first glance, but as soon as the blog names were revealed, there was this instant recognition, and no shortage of conversation as blog posts were remembered and follow-ups inquired about. Shyness and apprehension go away pretty quickly for me at events like this. I also like that upon leaving to go home, I know that I can read up on all the new posts within the next few days, so it doesn't feel like I have to wait for the next bloggy event before I can catch up with everyone. It's a neat-o thing, this blogosphere!

The Official Vacation Report

Ok, time for some of the vacation details. I won't bore you with descriptions of white sand and turquoise water, and the typical things that one would expect to find in the Caribbean, so I'll try to stick with things that stuck out as interesting to me. The thing about Harbour Island that differed from any other vacation spot that I've been to was the size of it. It was so small that there was no option to rent a car. The fastest vehicle that a tourist could rent was a golf cart. We decided not to bother and just walked around on the first day, but we had to cave in and rent one for the rest of the trip. Although any dinner spot was only a maximum of a 1/2 hour walk away, the streets were very dark. The supervisor at the first restaurant that we went to told us that we were crazy, and drove us home herself. It's not that the island is typically dangerous, but one never knows who is visiting there. In addition, the whole pregnancy thing makes walking a lot more tiring than usual. So we rented a golf cart, which isn't really driving, so it made the whole left-hand side of the road issue less of a concern.

Another interesting part of this island is that there is absolutely NOTHING to do there but lie on the beach, eat, and drink. Since I happen to be pregnant, my choices were even fewer. Yes, I was resentful about not drinking. I had a couple of virgin pina coladas, but they didn't quite cut it. Apparently there is a night club on the island, but it isn't open in the week. The restaurants close pretty early, and there is no main drag to walk around after dinner. This left us back in our room no later than 10pm every night. Adding to the island's nothing-to-do-ness, we didn't have a TV in our room. I think this is typical of most hotels on Harbour Island. Some of you probably don't think that this is a big deal, but we are talking about us. We are a TV kind of family, and usually have it on if Pumpkin is in bed. In fact, most of our intimate moments have been accompanied by the "music" of Jay Leno's monologues. Sexy, I know. I'm not sure if this will change when Conan takes over in a year or so. Nevertheless, I never felt bored, not with the trip, nor with the intimacy with or without Jay Leno's soundtrack. In the day, it was enough to be on the beach, floating around in the ocean on a body board, or just vegging out on our roof deck (!!!), listening to music. A setting such as the one described here forces one to read, which I don't do enough of at home, forces us to talk, which we could stand to do more of usually, forces us to get enough sleep, which almost no one ever does, and forces us to relax, which is easy to forget to do on a vacation in a busier spot. As for that roof-deck that I mentioned, it was like having another room. It was a great place to sunbath bra-less, although not topless. I'm not a topless kind of gal, even when I'm not pregnant. I am probably more modest now that I am pregnant, but so might you be if you had a round belly, a short waist, and an over sized rack that has nowhere to go but to rest on the belly.

You get the picture

From both the deck and our actual room, we overlooked the ocean. We typically left the windows open on both sides of the room to get a salty, ocean breeze blowing through. We never turned on the A/C. The hotel had more of a B&B atmosphere to it than a hotel, and is actually owned by Mark Messier. We just missed meeting Mark by a day or two, but we did have several chats with his brother who is managing the place right now. His brother is just as buff and beautiful, so he satisfied my pseudo-puck-bunny needs for the duration. Oddly enough, they didn't sell potato chips at the hotel.

Food was a bit of an issue. I like to eat when I like to eat, but on Harbour Island, one has to eat when food is being served. There is no such thing as breakfast at 11 am, with the exception of maybe one fast-food place that we frequented. Our hotel served breakfast from 8:30 to 9:30, and it wasn't until the second last morning that I even realized that we could get breakfast there. We like to sleep in, but one morning I was awake enough to catch a whiff of bacon, which drew me out of bed. By the time we got downstairs, breakfast was over. We tried to go to a deli for lunch around 2pm one day, but the deli was closed by then. Most days, we had lunch at a spot on the beach that had convenient hours, but if you got there too late in the day, e.g. 2pm, a lot of the food options were sold out. Imagine the disappointment of expecting to eat lobster quesidillas, but having to settle for hot dogs. Hot dogs with a bill of $40 for two, I might add. At least that included two Cokes and two sides of coleslaw. Oh well.

One thing that I didn't expect was the extent to which we missed Pumpkin. We found ourselves wishing that we had her with us, especially whenever we saw other families with their toddlers having a blast on the beach, or even eating with them in restaurants. When we got back to Toronto and hopped on an airport shuttle, we met a couple with their 2-1/2 and 1-1/2 year-old kids. We smiled wistfully, and asked them if they all had a great time. The husband faked a smile that was not really a smile, and shook his head vigorously. The couple tiredly suggested that we not attempt to vacation with children under age four. I'm inclined to believe them.

Other than the fact that there were wild chickens and their baby chicks running around all over the place, that pretty much sums up the holiday. Stay tuned for my next holiday posting, which should be in some time in 2012.

Yeah, I'm Home. Sigh.

Wordless Wednesday
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Mac & Cheese has Left the Building

I'm just popping in to let you all know that my vacation begins tomorrow morning, so I will not be posting or commenting for a week or so. Hopefully I will have much to write about upon my return, and maybe a hot picture of me at 7 months preggers in a bathing suit. Don't even think about robbing the place while we're gone as my posse is staying back to hold down the fort.

If you think the one in the middle looks tough here, you should see what a bad-ass she is now!

All Things Food Related

Can someone please explain to me why my daughter will not eat carrots, or 99% of vegetables for that matter, but she will make every attempt possible to eat pretend carrots made out of Play-Doh?

In other food matters, the bribery fish that I bought Pumpkin seems to be depressed, and will not eat. It is a Betta fish, and was purchased with a recommended starter kit. I often see these fish in small cups at the pet store, so I figured it would be happy in the tank that I bought it, even though it is quite small. I change the water a couple of times a week, and try to keep the water warm enough, yet it still won't eat. Do fish have suicidal tendencies? Any experts out there?

I made scones yesterday, even though I've never made a pastry before in my life! I didn't actually know what shortening was for, and don't own a rolling pin, yet I made delicious scones, and ate them for breakfast, lunch, and snack yesterday. These are not to be confused with the sconces that I discussed a few posts back. There was some confusion when MotherBumper showed up with some butter and preserves back when I posted that.

One of my dogs lives to eat. You might think that this is true of all dogs, but Taz is in a class of his own. He is relentless in his quest for food, and shows no remorse if he steals something off your plate. If you were a few feet away from your own sandwich, holding a baseball bat, Taz would still make an effort to get at least part of the sandwich before you gave him a whack. Just an example, of course. We would never hit him with a baseball bat. Tazers are more effective. Anyhoo, we store his dog food in a latched bin inside a closet. Every now and again, one of us manages to leave both the latch and closet door open, and Taz has himself a feast. He eats until I imagine he is uncomfortable, then typically has a lot to drink afterwards. The water makes the kibble expand in his stomach, which allows us to determine that he has in fact pigged out, based on the way his stomach extends, giving him a somewhat cylindrical shape. He will then spend the rest of the day, lying on his side, passing gas and acting kind of pathetic. Incidentally, this has only happened 3 or 4 times in his life - we're not quite stupid enough to make this mistake too often. Taz didn't pig-out last night, but I did. Hubby brought home Indian food, which is my absolute favourite, so I attacked my meal with vigour. The problem is, there is a baby taking up a heck of a lot of room in my body, and I tend to fill up very quickly these days. So I was staring at a plate of the most amazingly flavoured food, yet could not really eat it. I decided that I was going to get it down one way or another, so I sat there forever, stuffing in a small mouthful whenever I started to feel the slightest bit less bloated. I did reach my goal of clearing off my plate, but it took so long that I missed my chance at getting Pumpkin to bed early and having a romantic Earth Hour with hubby. Even if I had timed things right, romance was not going to happen. I think my stomach doubled in size and I could barely move. The only difference between me last night and Taz on a pig-out night is that I was less likely to crap on the rug at four in the morning. Nothing bad happened to me, but I had to stay up fairly late in order to feel well enough to fall asleep. I was still full when I woke up this morning. There's nothing like finding out that I have something in common with this guy:

A re-enactment of me attacking my meal last night

Me? Pregnant?

Up until maybe a week ago, people have been saying that I was particularly small for whatever stage of pregnancy that I happen to be at. I quite liked hearing that. It fulfilled whatever body image affirmation I required to be happy with my physique. This week, people have started saying the opposite. I'm hearing a lot of, "Wow, you're really starting to look pregnant now!", or, "your tummy is really sticking out now!", or, "Hey, I can now tell that you're pregnant when I look at you from behind!". That was my personal favourite. I know that I am supposed to look pregnant seeing as I actually am, but somehow I am not enjoying being told that I look it after so many months of being told that I was barely showing. Don't feel bad if you are one of the people who have made such comments. The issue is mine. It's just that I deluded myself into thinking that I could get through the whole nine months in size eight, non-maternity jeans. I officially declared those uncomfortable yesterday and took some hand-me-down maternity jeans to the tailor to be shortened just today. If the size eight jeans were a slightly lower rise, I could have done it! I know I could have! Ok, I get it. I look pregnant. Just go easy on telling me about it, will ya?

Blah Blah Blah Yet Again

Have you ever started a post several times, on several different topics, only to realize that you have nothing interesting to say about any of these topics? I've given it about four tries, but nothing good is coming out, so I am left to offer you nothing except random thoughts.

My vacation is booked! Bahamas here we come! I've already got my sensible shoes and oh-so-flattering maternity swim suit ready.

This pregnancy has me appreciating the small things in life, such as the amazing feeling I get every night when I get to take off my bra, which is by no means being used to hold up the small things in life. With my last pregnancy, I practically needed scaffolding to hold up my chest, and I thought I was going to be able to avoid such measures with this pregnancy. No such luck. I'm just a late bloomer this time.

Pumpkin started a new program today. After we flunked out of ballet class, I ended up enrolling us in a very commercialized, yet well organized gym program that Pumpkin seems to really enjoy. There is a fair amount of free-play on some very cool equipment, but also some very basic level gymnastics that she was actually willing to participate in. I even know about half the moms in the class from previous courses that we've been to, so it has turned out to be a very good outing for me too! I'm so glad that the ballet teacher didn't want us back.

My decorating quest has been progressing quite nicely. Pumpkin's room now has curtains, that will hopefully help her sleep a little longer, as the temporary, paper blinds really let a lot of light in. My room now has new curtains too! The temporary ones made the place look a bit student-ish. It's starting to look like grown-ups live in that room! You wouldn't even suspect someone like me actually sleeps there. Pictures will be posted - I just need to get all the finishing touches in place. At the rate that we do things, figure on seeing something around Christmas time. I can hear my mom rolling her eyes right now.

There you have it! Four whole random thoughts! Fewer than I thought I'd have, but there they are.

BOOK IT ALREADY!!!!!!

We're going on vacation! Presumably. We've been talking about having a 4 or 5 day getaway in the immediate future as I am nearing the time where the airlines aren't going to let me fly with them if they think that I might go into labour mid-air. I originally thought New York would be a good place to go seeing as I ain't never been, but hubby suggested somewhere in the Bahamas, which does sound more appealing than New York at this time of year. Today was scheduled as the day that we would sit down at the computer and get this trip decided upon. While I was giving Pumpkin a bath, I sent hubby out to rent a movie, and told him that we'd deal with the trip as soon as Pumpkin was in bed, then we'd watch the movie. That was four hours ago. We haven't seen the movie yet. It appears that I have married a details man, which I kind of knew already, but I have never witnessed it in such a frustrating capacity. First, he instructed me to go to my computer to do my own research, then bring him my searches that he would compare with his searches. This struck me as ridiculous since we'd be searching the same things, and not actually having any dialogue about it. I managed to merge our searches, but we still weren't having dialogue because he had to read the whole internet's worth of information before he could actually form an opinion on our destination. Next, he searched all the packages on the usual travel sites. Then he needed to break up the packages to see if he could book the hotel and flight separately, and come out ahead. At this point, I was still ok with his quest. Then he needed to compare the pricing with other destinations, including cruises that we weren't interested in, just to make sure that he was getting some sort of good value. I started to wonder about his sanity. Next he started looking at maps of the island to see where the hotels were located in relation to all that is supposedly interesting on the island. Then he started looking at smaller islands and reviewing all the literature on a fresh batch of hotels. Now he is reading reviews of these hotels, checking testimonies of those who have already been there. I have left him to deal with it because he has to go through some sort of process that I cannot influence, even though all I want to do is get to a f&*%-ing beach and lie there for a few days. I see five stars, I see sand, I see ocean, I see what appears to be a decent price, I book! It's really quite simple. I'm going to go up to bed without him soon. I know that when I wake up in the morning, he still won't have made any sort of decision as there will be more literature that he will need to review. I love him. I'm grateful that he wants to take us on this holiday. I also want to beat him with a stick right now.

I CAN Be Adventurous in the Kitchen!

Remember the day my spirit was crushed at a maple sugar bush when I was denied an orgasmic taste of maple taffy on snow? Well, I never quite got over that. I've thought about it a lot, and even checked the Internet for instructions on how to make my own. The instructions seem simple enough: Boil syrup for approx. 4 minutes, then pour it on snow. Looking out at my yard, I figured my biggest challenge would be finding a patch of snow that wasn't yellow, brown, or actually touched by my either of my dogs. I decided to check the front lawn instead, but then thought of all the wildlife in my neighbourhood, and couldn't get comfortable with that idea either. Then I thought of the vanilla ice cream in my freezer! Yeah baby! I boiled that syrup as soon as I thought of it, and poured it over a bed of ice cream. The verdict: It worked! My hands are so sticky that I have become one with the keyboard. The top and bottom of my mouth are welded together and I'm going to have to chisel my teeth before bed. Actually, it was kind of gross, but at least the appetite has been quelled. I can now set my culinary sites on making something to nourish my family. Wish me luck!

Princess Dress

I've always been rather tomboy-ish. From a very young age, I refused to wear dresses, or pink, or anything other than running shoes on my feet. I will now dress up for necessary occasions, but I wear jeans and sneakers most of the time. I feel motivated to dress better when I watch, What Not To Wear, but then the moment fades - it always does. Pumpkin, who is not yet three, has decided that she loves dresses. She calls them "princess dresses", and is now insisting on wearing them every day. I'm going to have to head over to Old Navy or something tonight to buy more of them to avoid fighting about her wardrobe on a daily basis. Yesterday I had her in the coolest tunic/jeans combo, and she made me put a dress-up dress over it and fought me when I took it off for bath-time. A real girly girl. Does anyone have a manual for one of those?

Unexpected Sentimental Attachment

I used to work with a guy who came into the office one day, completely freaked out about how he lost his wedding ring. Apparently it had always been loose, and he hadn't bothered to get it adjusted. I remember laughing a little, for it was a replaceable piece of jewelery, and that if his wife trusted that he didn't have it off for the purpose of infidelity, there really was no need for all the fuss. Just buy a new ring, I thought to myself. I'm not a sentimental person, and I don't attach much emotion to material things, if you haven't already figured that out. Don't get me wrong though - I love stuff as much as the next person, but I'm not sentimental about it. At least I didn't think I was until about a month ago. My mom had slept over because of a snow storm, and offered to take care of Pumpkin in the morning, allowing us to sleep in. I couldn't see anything wrong with this plan, with the exception of one thing - we have to keep our bedroom door open at night to allow the dogs to come and go, and to allow my mom to let them out on that particular morning. With the door to our room open, Pumpkin ran in while we were sleeping. My mom felt that she could not follow her out of respect for our privacy, but Pumpkin, on the other hand, cared very little about such things. She ran straight into our bathroom, played around with whatever she found, then left with my ring holder. The ring holder is a small figurine, shaped like an elephant with it's trunk in the air, upon which I usually hang my rings for the night. Fortunately, my wedding ring and my "official" engagement ring were at the jewelers being modified. The one ring that was actually on the holder was the ring that hubby gave me when he proposed. This ring is not, however, the "official" engagement ring. When he asked me to marry him, he proposed with what he considered to be a "token" ring that he chose, and then sent me off to pick the ring of my choosing. He doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself when it comes to buying gifts, so I can see why he went this route, which does have it's merits I must say. So anyhow, we aren't talking about a ring with a lot of monetary value. It does have a diamond on it, but you kind of have to squint to see it. Anyhow, when I woke up in the morning after Pumpkin had ransacked my bathroom, my mom handed me the ring holder, which she had taken away from Pumpkin for fear that she'd poke her eye out. I didn't think of it at the time, but later in the day as I was putting the holder back on my counter top, I realized that the ring was gone. Did I ever feel terrible. At that moment, I realized just how important that ring was to me, and how I had wanted to keep it until the day when I would hand it down to my daughter, ensuring that she knew the history behind it. I also felt terrible for my husband. Although he mocked the small diamond on that ring periodically, it WAS the ring that he proposed with, and it meant something to him too. We searched the house high and low, but it did not turn up. I even went through the debris in the central vacuum canister later in that week, but there was nothing. For the past month or so, I've been thinking about how badly I wanted the ring back, and decided that I'd buy a replica if I had to, although I know that replica just somehow wont be the same. I now understand why my colleague was so distraught when he lost his ring, unless his distress was from fear of his wife killing him, but let's assume that it was not.

This morning, I was drying my hair while Pumpkin rummaged through one of my cabinets, when I realized that there were some pretty dangerous things in that particular cabinet. I stopped what I was doing to take things out of her hands such as bottles of prescription drugs, rubbing alcohol, and other such goodies. Each time I took something out of her hands, she grabbed another item. This went on until I noticed that she had uncovered something shiny. My ring! My ring! Yes, I do need to put a lock on that cabinet, but for today, my ring! My ring!