I Would Have Paid Extra for Delivery

Whenever my dad visits from Montreal, he brings along a stash of smoked meat from Schwartz's. This is an essential part of his visit, without which I probably wouldn't bother to invite him over. No, not really, but my point being is that I really REALLY like Schwartz's smoked meat.

My dad and I have been discussing his trip to Toronto for this week, basically working out the likely timing of his arrival and departure, as well as the quantity of smoked meat he had to bring along. We were going to have a family member joining us for dinner on the night of his arrival, so we had to make sure that there was enough smoked meat to go around. The added bonus is that dinner would already be made, and I wouldn't have to do any work.

Dad arrived via carpool with a fellow Montrealer, who dropped him and his luggage off at my front door, then took off for his own destination. Upon rifling through his many bags in my kitchen, Dad asked, "Where's the smoked meat?"

'G-d damn, mother f-ing, son-of-a, f*ck, F*ck, F*CK!!!!!', is what I thought, but I managed to just sit there breathing deeply while Dad walked around kicking himself for his error. He didn't know his friend's cell number. So we began to sit and wait, hoping that his friend would look into the depths of his trunk for something that we and he would undoubtedly prefer to find sooner rather than later.

Knowing that I didn't have a chance of putting together any sort of edible dinner given that it was already dinner time (not that having extra time helps much), I resigned myself to the idea of pizza or Chinese food. I actually heard my taste buds start to cry and dry up in the anticipation of such a let down. Then Dad remembered something.

His friend's home phone was being forwarded to his cell! We made contact! It was rush hour, so I did a cost/benefit analysis of driving through Toronto in our usual gridlocked traffic versus not having my beloved Schwartz's that I had been thinking about all day.

I've gotta tell you, that was the longest drive I've ever taken to pick up dinner.

Maybe it's Time for a GPS?

I'm notorious for forgetting to carry along necessary papers that I have set aside for various purposes. I often make grocery lists, then find myself calling home from the grocery store, asking whomever is home to read me the list that I inevitably left on the kitchen counter top. I often print out maps to destinations, only to find myself trolling along through foreign neighbourhoods, trying to recall what was on the map which undoubtedly still resides next to the printer.

About 15 minute ago, I took Pumpkin to a birthday party. I didn't bother to print out the map because I'm fairly familiar with the area, but I did manage to forget the invitation with the house address on it. Meh! How hard could it be to find a court, beginning with the letter S, in such a small neighbourhood. I didn't know the house number, but I anticipated that it would be the house with all the cars parked outside.

I found a court, beginning with the letter S, off the street that it was supposed to be off of, where I saw a house decked out with streamers and balloons. Without a doubt that I was at the right place, I pulled in to the driveway and got Pumpkin up to the front door, ready to party.

Too bad that Pumpkin doesn't know eight year old Jordan who is celebrating his birthday at that particular house today.

We had better luck on the next street over. A little variation on the street naming please!

It's Not About Me???

We were at a Bat Mitzvah this past Sunday. Typically we don't bring our kids with us when we attend formal events (not that we get invited to too many), but a Bat Mitzvah party is actually kid oriented, regardless of the black tie optional designation, so we decided to bring Pumpkin along, who is now old enough to appreciate a good time.

The last time we attended one of these, we were still a childless couple, and I remember not quite getting why these parties were orchestrated in such a way. Once again, it was black tie option, and everyone was in their formal wear. The DJ was going nuts, riling up all the kids, who were going crazy dancing, screaming, and trying to get their share of the toys and paraphernalia that the DJ was flinging off of the stage.

I remember looking at my FIL, who was clearly annoyed by the loud music, sitting there with a frown, in a tux, with a glow stick wrapped around his head. I decided then that this type of party was the most ridiculous thing going, regardless of any cultural significance.

This past week-end, I figured it out. I guess I had to actually bring my own kid to realize that the party was actually FOR kids. Duh! THEY like to get dressed up and have a fancy night of celebration. We adults are just extra! We weren't even in our right to tsk tsk at the gaggle of twelve year old girls who were all scantily clad in short, tight, sequined black dresses! It was THEIR night. (Eeeek, nonetheless!)

Despite my realizing that the night wasn't about me in the slightest, I had the most fun that I ever had at one of these. Pumpkin was a hoot! She felt so special in her 'fancy' dress (cough, $16 at Winners, cough cough), and danced around like she was the belle of the ball. I ended up getting my groove on too, as we had to get up to the stage and boogie if we wanted any of the t-shirts, boas, pillows, and inflatable junk that the DJ crew was doling out.

This was purely for Pumpkin, of course. I wouldn't have been jumpin' around to Lady Gaga in a crowd full of tweens otherwise. I'm much too s'phisticated for that...

First on the floor, dancing like no one was watching.

'Cause Everyone Wants to Know how it Turned Out

Since you've all been waiting for it, this is what Ma's hair looked like styled after enduring three days of Bieber Hair:
As the week wore on, her hair got flatter, which is not what straight-haired people generally like, but is actually quite desirable when you've got straightened, curly hair. As you Torontonians are aware, this was a particularly humid and rainy week, which usually causes frizz, but in my mom's case caused a tendency back towards 'The Bieber'.

I guess it's fair to say that the keratin straightening treatment works. Hurray, if that's your thing.

This is in no way an endorsement for the straightening of curly hair. EMBRACE THE CURL!!! (unless you want to be on TV, in which case it seems that straightening is the only option. Oh, and if you have a Bat Mitzvah to attend this Sunday night and your hairdresser doesn't work on Sundays, rendering you to live with a 'do' that will carry over from a Saturday appointment. But those are the only allowable circumstances!)

She Just Needs to Master the Hair Flip

I have curly hair. Up until about 7 years ago, I was quite resentful of it. Throughout high school and years after, I did my best to straighten it, or tie it back, or braid it, or imprison it in a banana clip, but I can't say that I ever liked it. In my late 20s, the curls and I made peace. I figured out how to work them to my advantage, and now I have strangers approaching me on the street, asking me how to obtain the same curl definition. I'm so proud.

My mom, on the other hand, hates her curly hair and has always had her hair done by professional stylists. Every week, her hair is straightened and set, such that most people are unaware of the pent up curls hiding within her perfectly styled coif. This has presented her with the problem of avoiding humidity, sweat, rain, wind, sneezing, spicy food..., you get the picture. It now appears though that there is finally a method for dealing with this affliction.

There is a keratin treatment that is all the rage, which is more or less a reverse perm, that truly keeps hair straight for 3-6 months. It may not leave hair looking like Jennifer Aniston's, but apparently any remaining curl will only manifest itself in the form of smooth waves, and not some Brillo pad that has scoured one pot too many. Oh the 80's were painful for me!

So back to my mom, she decided to bite the bullet and cough up the bazillion dollars required for such a treatment, hoping that she can go out for a walk this summer without coming home looking like Roseanne Rosannadana. There is really just one catch, unless you consider the bazillion dollar fee a catch.

Once the hair is treated, it must be ironed flat against one's head, not to be styled, covered, washed, or touched for three days. Consequently, my mom now reminds of a segment that I recently saw on The Tonight Show titled, 'Too Old for Bieber Hair!'

I've gotta tell you, I'm having so much fun with this! Every time she walks into the room, I point and shout, "Bieber hair!!!", while laughing maniacally, as mom raises an eyebrow at me in annoyance. It's totally been the highlight of my day!

I Rule!

Yesterday as I was heading out the door with Chichi to her usual Wednesday program, I ran into the hot guy who installed our irrigation system last year. When I say hot, I mean hot, and not just someone who is 'not bad' under the conditions of spending all of my time with children, longing for the company of grown ups. Since I was heading out, I was going to miss out on my opportunity to observe him at work, which was the first of my series of unfortunate events.

Just before I jumped in the car, I realized that I hadn't yet turned on the water supply to the irrigation system this year, which meant that I had to run back into the house with Chichi, which ignited a tantrum that set the mood for her entire day.

Next, I zipped down the stairs to the basement, where I quickly opened the valve to the irrigation system, stood there for a minute to make sure it worked, and then ran back up to gather Chichi, and took off, leaving hot irrigation man to tend to his business, with no one there to offer him a glass of lemonade. Sigh.

Upon returning, I heard the vacuum running, which meant, praise the universe, that it was cleaning lady day. Sadly, the vacuum obscured another sound that would have been a good thing to actually hear. That being said, I made no notice of the sound even after the vacuum had been shut off. The cleaning lady had heard the non-vacuum, mystery sound, and attributed it to the furnace, since it was coming from that direction. Due to my hearing impairment, I am prone to tuning out such background sounds, figuring that it was a neighbour's lawnmower that my hearing aids couldn't seem to tune out.

It wasn't until the cleaning lady pointed out some weirdness going on with the water pressure that I finally made the connection to the rumbling sound that had been playing in the background of the house for several hours. I ran down to the utility room to check out the valve that I had opened for hot guy earlier that day. Somehow, in my hurry to stop Chichi's previous tantrum, I missed that the bleeder valve for the irrigation system had been open. Water had been spritzing into the utility room for about 4 hours, which was evident by the ankle deep wading pool that I had created. Pity the drain in the floor had been plugged up with lint.

So today I spent a couple of hours ripping out saturated carpet and under pad, and convinced myself that I was being productive.

And You Thought it was Important Just to Wear a Clean Pair!

Friday, Pumpkin surprised me by being fully dressed when she woke me up for the day. Usually I need to make a few wardrobe modifications for her when she does this, but yesterday she looked pretty cute. She had on a peach skirt with white capris tights, and a colourful, sparkly t-shirt with a peace sign on it. The ensemble had a 'material girl' quality to it, and was weather-appropriate, so I didn't make her change.

Yesterday, Pumpkin had a washroom 'accident' at school, which is very rare. It's just a little unfortunate for me that this happened on a day when Pumpkin dressed herself. The teacher had to help Pumpkin change into her spare clothes. If I wasn't concerned before about being judged by the way I dressed Pumpkin for school, I certainly became concerned about being judged for having sent Pumpkin to school that day without any underwear!

Maybe next time I'll do a spot check.

Mysterious Second Language?

Chichi isn't speaking yet, at least not in English. The doctor doesn't think that this is anything to worry about, so I'm not worrying, but I do take great rejoice whenever I hear her speech attempts resemble an appropriate word. Mostly she babbles though.

Yesterday, as my mom was doling out some crackers to the kids, Chichi said a word! My mom exclaimed, "Chichi just said, "more"!"

Pumpkin added, "And she said "please" in Chinese!"

Apparently Chichi is more sophisticated that I thought. Pumpkin too for that matter.

Girl's Weekend Redux

Wow, it's hard to get started again after a couple of weeks of laziness. I'll give it a try anyways.

Not this past week-end, but the one before, I had the whole week-end off! By that I mean I did not have any mommy duties, nor wifely duties (whatever those are) for 48 whole hours while I did a repeat performance of a girls-only, shopping week-end. 48 women, 48 hours, an outlet mall, Target, and a room crawl. Do I even need to say more?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the group remembered my table dancing from the year prior, and did their best to get me loaded up enough to give it another try. I guess I've matured a bit over the past year and managed to keep my feet on the ground. I'm so proud.

I can't say that I found myself the slightest bit well rested after a week-end like that, and my feet were ready to leave me by the end of it, but oh I can't wait until next year!

I was much to busy trying on jeans and counting pockets in purses to have remembered to take any shopping pictures, but here are a few party shots to compensate for the thousand words that I haven't written:

Cheers!

Bizarre Shooter. The Headline might have read: 48 women found dead in a cheap hotel after simultaneously choking on a Hershey's Kiss

We were outta control!

So that's the gist of it. It took me a whole week to recover, but I'm coming out of my fog now so I should be back to posting semi regularly.

Random Marriage

I thought I was taking the week off, but I just got shit from an anonymous commenter who really wants to hear from me. Ok creepy stalker, I'll try to come up with something just for you.

This week in Pumpkin, she was working out the idea that my mom and dad used to actually be married to each other. She found this somewhat odd. It's not that she has a clear idea of what marriage is, but is quite certain that it does not apply my parents who don't live in the same city or spend any time together. I joked that I found their union odd too, not elaborating on my perception of two people who were nothing alike by the time that I was old enough to remember living with both of them at the same time.

Pumpkin then came up with a theory. "Maybe there was this wedding, and they needed a boy, and Grandpa was there, so they asked him to be in the wedding, and so they got married."

Wouldn't that be great for singles who are looking to get married for the sake of it? Just plan your wedding, and let the organizers pick your bride or groom while you're standing there at the altar.

I bet the existing 50% divorce rate would still hold steady.

Not a Good Sign

This morning Chichi and I went to her usual Thursday morning gym class. One of the activities in this class involves lining all the children up at the 'air log', where they proceed to bang on it with maracas in tune to music. This air log is a giant, colourful, inflated tube, about 10 children long, and about 2-1/2' in diameter.

The children who have been in this class before are quite familiar with the routine, and obediently line up to receive their maracas, and then line up along the air log where they wait for the stragglers. While I was leaning over, helping Chichi, who was waiting to receive her maracas, there was a little boy behind me who had already received his.

The little bugger started banging on my ass with them!

Alternative Therapy

The other day, my friend's mom and I were discussing the all important topic of pistachio nuts. I was focusing on the insanely high calorie count per nut (don't ask), but she had information about the supposed therapeutic aspect of pistachio nut consumption. Apparently the whole fiddly process of cracking open each nut, shell disposal, and actual eating offers focus, stress relief, and of course, an edible reward. I though that this was a nice, but unlikely theory until a memory of my childhood was triggered.

Every summer, my brother and I would spend a week in small town Quebec at my dad's trailer. We amused ourselves there somewhat with swimming, biking, and goofing around in a rubber dinghy, but much of that week was spent at the patio table, listening to top 40 tunes, while working our way through a bag of sunflower seeds.

The mindless task of sucking off the salt, cracking open the shell, eating the seed, then spitting out the shell made for what I would consider a nice outdoor activity. It sounds silly, but the memory of munching through a bag, waiting for the radio to play the latest release by Huey Lewis, soaking up the sun, and feeding the occasional chipmunk really does give me a warm fuzzy. Those were quality afternoons.

Calories smalories! Whaddya say we all trade in our anti-depressants for a sunny afternoon and a bag of unshelled nuts?

Bad Cop / Good Cop

It has occurred to me that a huge chunk of the behaviour of 4yo Pumpkin is designed to test my ability to not cause her any physical harm. It's hard, but I figured out long ago that I could cause her a fair bit of grief by taking away her favourite toy of the moment. Combined with a time-out, toy removal seems to cause her enough pain to gain her begrudging compliance.

This morning was no different than any other. Pumpkin refused to put on her own shoes, insisting that she needed my help, which she didn't. Sometimes I robotically put her shoes on just for the sake of getting her out the door, but today, I was a hard-ass. I really REALLY hate babyish behaviour when it's being performed by someone who isn't a baby, and I guess that my fuse is exceptionally short today.

"That's it! I'm taking away Mousey!" It's hard to believe that uttering such a stupid phrase gives me such a feeling of power, but hey, if Mousey works, then Mousey it is! Crying, Pumpkin had to put on her shoes and also didn't have her most important toy to take to school.

Those tears didn't affect me! I knew that I was ultimately being an effective parent, as I patted myself on the back after loading Pumpkin onto the bus.

A while later I noticed some scribble on the calendar. Pumpkin has her only show-and-tell for the whole month today, and today was now the only day this month where she didn't have some prized possession with her to show her classmates.

This will be the perfect punishment for her, I thought for half a second, before guilt took over my entire being. Grabbing my purse, Mousey, and some other toy option, I raced my butt over to the school, arriving just in time to catch the JK class lining up to go into the school.

Walking back to my car as I replayed the overjoyed, most beautiful smile that Pumpkin gave me when I showed up with her toy, I thought, 'Gee I'm a nice yet ineffective mom!'

Little Miss Literal

my mom, hearing The Wiggles playing a disco song from the '70s: You know, Pumpkin, I used to dance to that song!

Pumpkin: And now you don't anymore because you're old?

I Don't Think that Pavlov had This in Mind

The TV in our bedroom is on the fritz. This has created somewhat of a problem for my marriage. The thing that draws the huz and I together in bedroom every evening is late night television. Without the common goal of not really enjoying Jay Leno, we're having to make a bit of a conscious effort to plan a little 'alone time'.

To make matters weirder, when we do happen to find ourselves in that room at the same time, it's too damn quiet! Last night while we tried to cozy up with one another, I kept hearing things. The dog was snoring. The heating vent was causing the vertical blinds to clang together. I heard shuffling around via the baby monitor. The rain was hitting the windows. A minor power outage caused a flurry of gadgets in the house to start beeping. I need to focus people! Just one focus though. Maybe Monday Night Headlines or Jaywalking?

Is there a support group for people who can only be romantic when there's a talk show on in the background?

Carjacking on the Playground

Every Wednesday I take Chichi to a play group where a portion of the class takes place in a gym where the kids play with various toys, balls, and ride-on cars. Chichi always climbs into one of the plastic cars and spend her time opening and closing the doors. This seems odd, but it amuses her, and allows me to spend time in the kitchen with the other mothers who are doing their best to avoid their own kids in favour of a sip or two of coffee.

Today, Chichi was sitting in one of the plastic cars doing her usual: Door opens... door closes. Door opens... door closes. I must have looked away for a minute because the next time I glanced over at her, she was not alone in the car. A little boy with the sweetest smile on his face had pushed his way into the car with Chichi, and was trying to crowd her out. I was watching this scene with the other mothers, who encouraged me to let things play out unless there were any tears.

Now Chichi's general facial expression is that of bewilderment. Her wide-open, grey/blue eyes seem to take up half of her face, and her mouth often rests agape, as if she is completely shocked. In the context of this carjacking, it was both appropriate, and really funny.

The next thing Chichi knew, she was squeezed out the door on the other side of the car, and was left standing there, still looking bewildered, watching this little boy drive off with her car as she helplessly looked on. The entire kitchen full of moms agreed that this scene was hilariously sad.

Then Chichi happily ran over to some other toy without skipping a beat.

No Wonder I Hate Hide n' Seek

According to a statistic that I came across recently, the average North American spends approximately 12 weeks per year looking for things that they own but cannot find.

Pumpkin is terrible at trying to find things. She loses everything she owns at least once a day, and can't find whatever she is looking for despite it's obvious location within the house.

Stereotypical is my exasperation with Pumpkin when I find myself running around the house just one minute prior to her bus pick up, looking for her shoes, backpack, random toy that she can't leave the house without, or some other item.

"Pumpkin! Why are you so bad at taking care of and finding your things???", I shouted in futility last Thursday.

She replied, "I know I'm bad at finding my things, but I'm really good at finding the stuff that Grandma can't find!"

I think that my family may be above average at something!

I'm Glad I Skipped the Funnel Cake

I always knew that getting older meant the demise of many physical attributes. I knew that I would get wrinkles, I knew that I would have less energy, and I knew that gravity would take hold. What I didn't know was that getting older meant that I would be more likely to throw up on carnival rides.

That into was a little misleading because I didn't actually throw up on a ride, but I came a lot closer than I ever used to. Today I took Pumpkin to Fantasy Fair at Woodbine Center, which is something I've been planning to do for two years now. Upon arrival, I was completely impressed. It really looked like a fair with full size rides, games, and funnel cake. The carnies had teeth though, and the smell was more mall-like than the typical amusement park, which I guess is an improvement.

I had to go on several rides with Pumpkin, many of which spun us around in circles as rides are prone to do. With each successive revolution, I felt worse and worse, as nausea threatened to claim my dignity.

THIS IS NOT HOW IT USED TO BE!!!! I once had an iron stomach and a need for speed. Now all I have is an intense desire for Gravol.

So what's next to go?

Random, Morbid, Deep Thought

Pumpkin, wiping a slobbery dog kiss off of her face: Why is Lucky kissing me?

Me: 'Cause she loves you.

Pumpkin: So if I die, she'll be sad?

Me: ??? Uhhhhh, I....

Pumpkin: Where's my dress from yesterday? Can I wear lipstick? Where am I going today? What did you dream about last night? Is it sunny today? ...

I Never Thought of it That Way

Drive thru server handing over three individual bags: Here you go! Burger, burger, nuggets!

Pumpkin: Booger booger nuggets???