Homebound Mothers, part 2

So went to the gym yesterday. Had a plan in mind, went on the treadmill for 15 minutes of brisk walking, with a bit of jogging thrown in when I felt the walking was too slow. Then I did what's called a circuit route, which is 9 cleverly masked torture machines lined up, which you follow by number, each tearing apart a different set of muscles.

I followed a 70 year old she-hulk on this route, each time shamefacedly lowering the weights by half on whatever device she had finished with. I was amassing sweat in large quantities at each station, not to mention my lovely sickness had me hacking up a storm, so that I had a large clearance from the other women in the gym, so they would not catch my plague.

By the time I was done the circuit, I had caught a second wind, so I decided to finish it up with 15 minutes on the elliptical thingy. there was a nicely toned youngster next to me going what seemed a decent pace, and you know that thing that makes us fall into a pattern, like when there's four of you eating at a table, and somehow you all end up chewing at the same time to some silent beat? yeah, that thing. well, somehow I ended up keeping pace with her.

For about 2 minutes.

Then I almost had an asthma attack.

After my self torture, I went back and had a nice hot shower au gratis in the changing room.While in there, i decided that this is how I will make my self keep going to the gym, I will cut myself off from taking showers or baths at home, and only take them at the gym, so that I have to go, just so I don't get overly stinky. Plus I'll be saving like 3 dollars on my water bill. bonus!

Then I got home, and proud off my self for actually taking advantage of this, I decided to keep up my little healthy trend, and had some yogurt and berries, and a roast beef sandwich on rye. yay me!

Today, I cannot move. seriously. I can't even move my fingers, so I'm dictating this to my 6 yr old.
No, not really, but that's a good idea, and I wish I had thought of it sooner. ouch. Right now, even my baby's crawling faster than me, and he doesn't even crawl yet!

side note: really only pay attention to the first 40 seconds of this video. I'm not educated on my new video edit  program, so after 40 seconds, it just turns into whiny baby, and bad language.

The Homebound mother

HaHa!!!
My homebound life is paying off!!
Remember when I went to that Ladies Convention, and signed my name up to a whole bunch of shit? Well, I got a call from a beauty products line saying I've won  a free pass to another Ladies night, Called Wine, Women, Spa, and Chocolate. The night is basically open bar with trays full of mini-foodstuffs, silent auction, product sampling, and a CHOCOLATE INDULGENCE BUFFET!!!!! *drool*

And THEN, I got a  call from A fitness center here, saying I won 3 months free at their gym, complete with free babysitting by qualified people even! Bonus!

And even though I still feel like someone's trying to take a rancid turdle on me, I'm soooo going to the gym today, and my free ass is going to try not to snot on all the machines, for free. 
Oh,yeah....

Bored, so here!

So bored. Nothing to do, it's kinda icky outside, snowy, slippery, and cold, like -15 degrees cold, (I know, I'm a chicken-shite) so baby and me are staying inside where I have control of the heat. Toasty. I've also been sick the past week, so I have no intentions of leaving this house anytime soon, which limits the things we can do.

Speaking of poo,
Baby has started eating Real People Food, apples, naners and the like, and if you've had kids before, you know what I'm talking about, but if you are child-free, let me tell you that poo from babies that have just started People food, are nasty. Doesn't happen as often as before, but it's like he's packing enough stench to more than make up for it. It's like changing a little Person. No longer do I get to look forward to the poo that looks like it came from a baby-be-mine dolly, but a real turd worthy of Daddy's gags. Nasty stuff, that.
Anyways...

And Now for something Completely Different:



Angry Raspberries!

Wordless Wednesdays #3, or, the Cog

The Cat that has been raised by the dog, and is now, with his borrowed mannerisms, a Cog. 

Random thingers. Again

It snowed last night. and continues to snow this morning. I'm hoping we don't get the alarming 5 inches slated for the north part of the province, but I wouldn't be surprised. Snow is abundant in the winter here. As is cold weather. My friend used to tease me that My good ol' Norse ancestors moved to Saskatchewan specifically for the cold, so it would feel like home to them. Also, that I was pasty and couldn't tan for shit because I had come from Saskatchewan. She was probably right on both parts. Saskatchewan is the one of very few places in the World that can range anywhere from -60 degrees Celsius(with wind chill) and Snow drifts waist high in winter, to +45 in the summer with miles and miles of Sun. Because Saskabusch is Flat, and the wind bends the trees, so there's no cover. Which is partly true, but every myth has to have some semblance of truth in it.

On a sort of related note, When it comes to first snow and all that jazz, I am totally a sucker for my memories. The smell of fresh-baked cookies, wet coats and mittens, fireplace fire, etc, but the one that really stands out is the smell of Hot toddy.
Being one of the Trendiest people of my time, I am always the first one to get sick when winter arrives, and I  remember one specific elementary school year when I was 7 or 8, and both my sister and I caught the flu at the same time. I always remember my dad staying home with us when we were sick, giving us hot lemon water and such, but this one time he wanted to nip the colds we had in the bud, so he tried Grandma's Recipe for curing the ill. A Hot toddy. Now, A Hot toddy is basically a hot lemon-honey tea, but with the added benefit of rum or whiskey. I believe we had the whiskey version. So he made up a batch for both me and my sister, reminiscing to us about how his Grandma used to use this as a cure-all, or something. I don't remember that well people, I was sick!!.
Anyways, I don't remember which one of us started puking first, but one of us caught the other, and it started a chain of puking that lasted quite some time(although to my ill-induced mind, I could be exaggerating- I see it as a cartoon version much like the WB cartoon with the two pigs see-sawing a handcar, but with puke).

yeah, but with the guys harfing when they go down. pretty picture, I know..

Anyway, I'm sure we totally grossed out my dad, but in the end it did us little to no harm, and my dad learned a very important lesson. And as my husband makes this after he eventually catches my colds, I cringe a little inside. To this day I cannot drink whiskey in any form, unless I try really, really, Really hard. *shudder*

And now for something Completely different-

My eldest son is obsessed with poop. Or at least the word poop. He's 6, so I'm not really surprised when he starts singing 'Mary had a little poop', or 'This old man, he had poop', but also with his extreme science knowledge,as he can now berate my husband about their head-farting contests,(charming, I know) letting him in on just how one gets pink-eye and the like. *sigh* My house is a never ending battlefield with new horrors every day. I would have my youngest stay small forever, so I don't have to endure three half-grown males all at once.

Big Boy's night in

My Husband and I have come up with a plan, that every couple of weekends one of us gets either an In night, or an Out night, on a rotational basis of course. Well Let me tell you about a little thing called the Evening's best intentions.
It was my Hubby's turn last night, and he got a couple of guys together for an In night, (football/hockey/videogame hockey was on) so him and said buddies went shopping like little girls for sports food, booze, and other such things. They came home with smelly cigars, tonnes of finger food, and a bottle of rye with pop for mix. When they arrived back at the domain, they huffled and gloated on how, 'This is going to be awe-some, man', and how they bought enough stuff to last them through the 7+ hour marathon of sports and pigging out that was to happen at a steadily drunkened pace. This is the Evening's Best Intentions.

Reality? They each poured a little too heftily in their glasses, so that by two glasses in, they were waayy ahead of the game. They pigged out on the finger foods, so that 10 minutes into the game, they were all stuffed to the brim. They lasted roughly an hour and a half before the first of them succumbed to slumber, and by the end of the football game, all were not-so-silently snoring into their respective chests.

My turn comes Nov. 13th, with a whole bunch of us ladies making a big Mexican Feast, with nary a drop of the good stuff to be found, as most of us have babies, and the others are 'dieting'. I wonder what our Evening's Best Intentions will amount to. lol

Attention all you doomsdayers!!!!

Listen up!

There's new evidence saying that the Constant they used for Calculating and mapping out the Mayan Calendar is probably Wrong. See? Take that, Crazy buschwackers who refuse to let their children have friends because "The world's gonna end in 2 years anyways" (as seen in Wife Swap) Those who are fans of Science, know that the current theory isn't necessarily right, it just hasn't been disproved yet.

Kitchens, revisited

As I find myself with a sudden abundance of time, I'm feeling the need to be productive. So, I'm going to finally post about my kitchen. I know, exciting. woo hoo. ... Well, It Is To ME!!!!!

Okay. So, the contractor was set to have three days for each side of the house(duplex), and the other side had Monday through wednesday. Well, they ended up having some major plumbing problems, and the cabinetry didn't even arrive 'til tuesday afternoon, so they ended up coming over to use our water on Monday evening, Since Contractor Guy was smart and thought to rip both the kitchen cabinets, sink, AND the Bathroom Vanity out all at once. Noting that little piece of smarts, you can imagine my trepidation for when he arrived to do our side.

Also, since there were so many issues with the other side, they ended up taking one of our days to finish up, so when he let us know that he would be coming in bright and early Friday morning, and would stay until the job was finished, possibly working through Sunday, or the holiday Monday, I was a little p.o'ed. Plus, on Monday evening when the next door neighbours came to use our taps, they mentioned that he was alone on the job. Hanging Cabinets? bugger all. Hubby was all, 'Let him know I can help him with whatever, as long as he's out by Sunday game time.' Really. Throughout the whole process I had to keep reminding hubby that he couldn't help, because then we'd be held liable, and I really didn't want to have to pay to fix/replace at least the one cabinet I was imagining he'd break in the process of his 'helping'.Not to mention, Hubby-Helping? He didn't even help me unload the kitchen contents to move them downstairs, he just 'pondered aloud' where the coffee cups had run off to. Duh, dummy, if You had helped, then you would know where they were. *sigh* boys....

Then, on Tuesday when the delivery guys  showed up with the cabinets, they brought all of them for both sides, and since we have limited space in the house, we basically had no kitchen.

PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS!!! itty-bitty living space...

you can't even tell how pretty the cabinets are because the dumb movers put them all backwards...

But, when All was Said and Done, The lone Contractor took only Two days to finish our side (no problem plumbing-yay!!!), and He even made sure we had a sink on the first night! So with out Further ado, and bitching besides, here is the picture proof.

Still waiting on a new fridge and stove, but don't everything else look just purty?

Annoying people for the good of the world. again.

Since I've become a stay-at-home mom, I've taken to doing online surveys just to clear the boredom, keep updated, and, of course, to make a little side-cash. And I do mean a little. But lately, I've come across a schwack of surveys dealing with Non- profit organizations and Foundations. Things like the Breast Cancer Foundation, World Wildlife foundation, Heart and Stroke Foundation, etc...
Now, I applaud people who want to raise money for a good cause, even if for no other reason than a tax-break. (You just got sneaked into helping! haha!!!) But, lately, I've wondered just how much of this hard-earned/donated dough actually does any helping. I've looked around on the percentages of what goes to whom, but seem unable to find much info, although lots of opinions have surfaced. I've seen plenty of articles on companies in partnership to these foundations, saying they'll donate a certain percentage of their sales on whatever product they're hawking, and why don't you give them your info to be entered into a contest for  a great VACAY!!!, and this just reminds me of when I used to work for a 'distribution' company that sold very expensive vacuums on door-to-door sales. I managed the Phone and sales room, and I remember the waterfall of offers to be had with our prizes. You book an appointment to have someone pressure you into buying a 'system', just for the appointment you get a Ginsu knife set, but if you bought the said 'system', you got a voucher for a free stay in anywhere up to __ # of places, but when you called to book the vacation, they needed to have you sit down for a time-share demo, and that turned into a draw for a watch, and a phone call for another demo, etc, etc. A downward spiral of 'Oh fuck why did I give my phone # out -EVER?' But I digress. Anyways,  You give your info to some company that you just bought a product from, and they in turn bug the hell out of you whenever they have something new to show you. Kinda like a little kid-'Look what I can do!'. Plus, now they have your info to give whatever charity they were hawking for, so They give you a call and incessantly bug you for donations, telling you to 'do your part', blah, blah, blah. Well, I don't know what part I'm doing, if I don't know where my money's going... blind faith is not something an atheist like myself will give into at any time. I am not a sheep for herding. If I want to help somebody, I will give the money straight to them, or to the hospital, or whatever. But not to some big Head that's going to turn it into some healthy someone who just makes the logos pretty, or the coffee runner's wages. The best idea folks? If you know someone in need of help, help them. simple. Aren't people worth more than your tax break? I dunno. whatever.
This rant is just that, a rant, and since I can't really clarify it anymore, I can't even put paragraph breaks in it, you'll just have to read it as is. That is all.

A trip to the candy store-- for ladies

So, I went to the women's world trade show all by myself, with my youngest.

I tried to invite everyone, but no one wanted to come, or had other things to do. Like work and weddings. *sigh* And My hubby and oldest begged out on coming, since they had just finished their last game of the Flag Football tournament, which will come up in another post, but they were too tired to join me, and plus, the rider's game was on, so they begged out.

So, I went by myself. And you know what? I had fun! lots of it! They had so many different stalls with delicious nummies, and boobalicious wearables, lots of Financial and Insurance stalls trying to boost their visitation numbers by having draws for fun vacations, or money. Lots of draws to put my name in in general.

Servers wandering around the pavilions with trays full of mini bottles of booze, severely over-priced, but poured out into these cute little champagne glasses that made you feel like the Shit, so it was okay to spend 6-8 bucks on it.  The main Food pavilion serving nothing but Exotic Salads, (since it must have been just calorie-conscious women they were serving, right?) but I skipped that and went straight for the organic nachos and chicory Coffee, and finished off with homemade pumpkin fudge. Jealous with a capital J, aren't you?

And there was a stage set up at one end of the place, where various ol' lady Thai chi groups, and beginner belly dancing groups were performing every half hour, and one really cute 11 year old boy doing some repetitive fitness routine taught by an  older sister, all the while a big shiny, embarrassed blush on his face. It was adorable.

And I bought whatever the 60 bucks I had with me could buy. Pink Oven mitts with lace frills studded with crystally-looking things, and on it written was "Trophy Wife".  A lovely blue hand-made belly dancing waist wrap, the kind with tons of coins sewn in strategically to make the most noise?, to annoy my hubby and make me happy.  A baby sleeper in the Roughriders colours, with built in shoulder pads so it looks like my baby's a footballer whenever he wears it. A Rider toque for eldest son, and Hubby's birthday Present, which I had to get more cash from the ATM for, but I'm sure is worth it.

And stationed throughout the show was reclining chairs hidden back a little for the breast-feeding mamas, and comfy leather sofas with a big screen in front playing the football game, and a whole barrage of boys, young and old, stationed on the comfy couches, oblivious to their surroundings.

And the whole time I was there, I didn't have to do anything else but what I wanted, I wasn't dragged off to see something I could care less about, or shelling out enough dough to feed the family for a week, on crap and candies. And I didn't feel compelled to want to gossip, as some girls are prone to do, a nice change. And I left when I was ready. And my son was happy and content the entire time.

Twas a treat, and I'm now looking for more things to do just by myself.



p.s. I sound like a kid in a candy/pet store with all the 'ands'.. 'and there was a bunny and he had really soft ears and there were fishys and snails and i saw a puppy........etc

Wordless wednesday# 2...

Someone call Billy the Exterminator!!

So we were looking for the perfect costume for a 4 month old, since my husband insisted that baby be dressed up, even though I told him of eldest's misadventure. He wanted a baby pumpkin. Nah, I said, that's been done.
He wanted a frog, bug, bat, elephant. Nah, that's been done. Everythings been done, he said. What about finding a costume based on one of his pet names? ok..... little man, stinkbutt, stinkerdoo, stinky mcStinkerson...
(yeah, we're real creative...)
hence I give you:

skunky. the stinker. *sigh*. almost crawling now. kinda scary....eldest's turn tomorrow

Jumpin' Jiminy!!!

We got a jolly Jumper for the youngest, since he wants to do nothing but stand, and he's a heavy bugger, so to save our arms, we got him one.

The first thing we did before buying it though, was to look up on the loverly internets what we would be getting ourselves into. And lo and behold, the Horror stories that have been tucked in the static-y folds of the internets... no sooner had we typed in, 'Is a Jolly Jumper Safe for my 4 month old?', than we were barraged with vengeful, worried, and misinformed mothers spewing forth tragic things that had happened to youngsters, or cautionary tales of what happened to a friend of a friend of a friend's kid. heads getting caught in the chain, the thing collapsing on the child, bowlegs and whiplash,tippy-toe walking and loss of balance in the stabilizer muscles, horribly bent and deformed spines as a product of bouncing like a maniac, etc. One woman stated that the jumper permanently damages the thoracic curve of the spine, showing her sources, and when we clicked on it, it came up as a Dr. Sears website(Don't know who that is, but assuming it's the Dr. Oz of the internets), and the website basically stated there was no proven risk of spine damage on the jumper, as long as a time limit was enforced. And common sense tells us that jumping is a stabilizing exercise, so this toy is pretty much Not a toy, but a baby exercise machine. After all, do adults and kids not have trampolines? Bungee cords? same dif. There was also one really good answer to the question on yahoo answers, basically saying, it's your kid, do what you think is right. Get your info from the source, that way you know it's true.  So we went to the source, and the Jolly Jumper website has multitudes of links on safety, it states all the safety measures you can take, and gives thorough instructions on how to put baby in a jolly jumper. they've also been making this product for about 60 years, so they must know what thy're doing by now. So we got him one. And as soon as we had attached him to the spring cord, he went NUTS.  Then he proceeded to crap himself so spectacularly, while jumping, that the force exerted by his spring caused his poo to jump itself. All the way up to his neck.  So after a thorough bathing, he went back in, and we took this.

p.s. whilst looking for a picture of the jolly jumper, I came across a picture of the only man I ever crushed on in daytime children's TV. Other moms might have their favorite Wiggle or some dirty fetish with one of those rainbow-coloured Doodlebops, but I was always, and will remain, a Huge fan of - Sportacus- *sigh*.

He had  arms you could eat, and a-maz-ing flexibility... drool. Even his name sounded like something out of a cheesy romance novel. For a while I wanted to be stephanie. *more dramatic sigh* Confused?    Here.        See for yourself. That is all.

Youtube Babies!!!!

My husband has decided that youngest is going to be a you tube baby, so, for your enjoyment, here is baby eating naner-apples.

random rambles

My husband came home the other day with a free pass to a 'Woman's World' Convention, and so I made myself a promise that I would go to it come hell or high water, since it's only in a blue moon that my husband actually Offers himself, key word offers here, to take care of the kids and let me roam free for a few hours, and he's the one who gave me the out, so I'm takin it. I don't actually know what this thing is about really, it says on the ticket it's th eultimate trade and consumer experience, so I assume it's a trade show, and hopefully I'll walk away with more than a few free samples, which I LOVE, and it's got a picture of a chippendale dancer carrying a martini and standing like a true jeeves, so if there isn't some kind of naughty mayhem there, I'm going to be fully disappointed, since that's false advertising, and they're just lying to entice you in and then it's all yarn and crafts and making seashell sculpture, which, hey don't get me wrong, cool, but not my thing, and not what they advertised. I also don't know anybody else who is going to be able to come with me, since what few good friends I have are going to football games and weddings this weekend, so I think I might be going alone, so I'll have to dress up to look my most professional, so I can be sure to get lots of free goodies.

p.s. just noticed on the convention's website that men are admitted FREE when accompanied by a woman with a ticket. I sooo know who I'm taking now.. however, in it's mission statement it says that 'if you target women, this opportunity is ideal for you'. Not if your business targets women, but if You target women. sudden visions of nasty looking guys in cheap polyester cat-calling in a big warehouse. nice...

You know how no matter how hard you try to duplicate that certain recipe, that cookie or chicken recipe your grandma or mom used to make and won't give to the recipe to, or at least you haven't asked? My dad used to make this breakfast sandwich on weekends, and if I was lucky, or at least got up early enough, I would get one too. It was just an egg, ham, and cheese sandwich, with a bit of cayenne pepper on it, but boy did it taste good. And I've never been able to duplicate it's greasy, cheesy, yumminess.  the middle of the sandwich sometimes tastes pretty close, I dunno, maybe he cut the crusts off or something. But I have a distinct memory of him telling me that he always ate breadcrust and gristle because grandma told him it was the best part. hmmm...

First Sign of the Apocolypse.... or at least that I'm not as young as I once was...*sob*

So I was in Walmart today, getting a few necessities, and I saw a couple of young teeny-bopper girls making huge googly eyes at a teeny-bopper boy who was making huge googly eyes at a video game, when I suddenly found myself in the midst of an amazing hottie!

This yummy dish was sculpted from the finest quality grade A beefcake, hair so touchable-y soft looking, and a very cute looking dimple adorning one cheek. Well! I could hardly contain my drool. I myself  was making huge googly eyes, thankfully aware enough to notice that kiddo was completely absorbed in some other toy.

It was only when I became aware of the fact that this tasty piece of eye candy was in fact, the father of the boy-teen that the girls had been ogling at previously,  that I shook myself out of my reverie and felt a twinge of cold dread shudder down my spine...

Surely I can't be that old already? I just finished high school! .... like, 8-9 years ago...

What?

My oldest is only..... 6..... *sob*.....

I guess I had to face the truth sooner or later, I mean after all, my butt has long since been able to pull off the tight-thigh-scrunching spandex leggings that are today's fashion frenzy...

But fear not... at least granny panties aren't in the near future!

My First Wordless Wednesday

So I've decided to try out a weekly ritual entry on my blog, called Wordless wednesdays, where you don't write anything, just post pictures or videos. I've seen all sorts of blogs over the years take part in this ritual, so it must be a timeless thing, not just a fad. so yay for me!, also I think I just fucked up my first try at this thing by explaining myself, and therefore, writing something. way to be, me... way to be...

Bruises, Phones, And JohnoVision

I sometimes have panic attacks about my children.
I have two boys, and there is a 6 year age difference between them, and though my youngest is still a newborn, I fear what life will be like when he gets older and can pick a fight with his big brother. I myself have never had a brother, but I have had a sister, and let me tell you, fights between siblings when they're the same sex can get pretty fucked up. Boy or girl.

I remember this one fight when I was nine and my sister was five. We were finally allowed to stay home after school, but I had the added responsibility of 'babysitting' my sister, which I promptly shoved in her face as soon as we had stepped in the house. I continued this tirade of me being the more 'responsible' one, her being the baby, our parents not trusting her alone, her being scared of her own closet so how could she stay home alone?, etc. She in turn (because she's five and has the mental capacity to release stress like a FIVE year old people) started throwing things at me. Dolls, lego, her pudding spoon... so I, with my not so best judgement, first tried to use my excellent negotiation skills, yelling that I'd lock her out of the house,I'd cut off all her hair when she was sleeping, I'd rip all the heads off her Barbies, to which a look of horror came into in her eyes, and she whispered "you're not serious" So I, kvelling in the fact that I might finally have won the fight, yelled triumphantly, (the best Freudian slip Id ever had till I was 15)  "I'm sooooo Not serious!" to which my sister started laughing, so I did the only other thing I could think of that would shut her up; I slapped her. Which of course escalated into a huge fight with us both screaming and crying and slapping and pulling hair, and then she threatened to call mom home. Which is capital punishment I'll have you know, So me being the genius, ran and unplugged the Main phone in the kitchen. But my sister, being the clever kid she was, ran to my parents room where the only other phone was in the house, slammed the door shut and locked it. Well I though I was going to get in mondo trouble, so I started banging on the door and screaming, "It's NOT my faaauuult!!!!.bang. MOM!!!.bang. It's NOT MY FAAAAAAUUUUULT!!!!!!.bang. AAGGH, I'm going to KILL you!" BANG. And my sister , on her one final moment of glory, opened the door, looked me in the eye, and said "you suck at babysitting".
And then she threw the phone at me.
So, one broken phone, a giant goose egg over my eye, and an episode of JohnoVision later, My mom comes home. None the wiser about our fight of course, cuz my sister thought it would be a better idea to damage MY VISION than to rat me out. which is, of course, what sisters are for. After that first big episode, we had a few more broken phones, as well as other objects-around-the-house, though none of them hit their mark as cleanly as the first.


This incident in particular, as well as a few others, sticks out in my head when I think about how life will be in a few years. That, and when my eldest gets excited over the time he'll finally get to babysit his little brother.

5 things I love

I love when my baby wakes up first thing in the morning. He's so calm and happy, and dare I say, flirty. He knows now what it takes to get what he wants, so he'll cling to your neck, grunt little grunts, and give you that 'I know something you don't know' smile, and if you return it, he breaks into a full toothless grin. Then he usually poops, but the before of that is really cute.

I love being outside on a crisp fall morning, with a cup of coffee in my hand and a cigarette in the other, and a book sometimes, if I'm in the mood. Otherwise I like to notice the world. The glistening fall leaves as they get shifted around the street, the spiderwebs trailing my front yard,  the sunrise over the houses across the street, quiet.

I love when my husband comes out of the blue and suggests a mini getaway for me, like how on Saturday he said we should do take-out so I didn't have to cook the day before thanksgiving, and he said I should go down to the restaurant and order so I could sit at the bar and have a drink whilst waiting for the food. A Godsend...

I love when Sobey's discounts their gourmet cupcakes, because then I satisfy my craving with something cheap, and that usually also fills in the question of should I be eating 4 cupcakes weighing in at 450 calories apiece all at once. mmmmmmm, cupcakes....

I love when my hubby 'accidentally' wakes up too early on weekend mornings, and he turns on the music from our computer, and we all dance and sing our way to breakfast.

There. Now how about you?

In True holiday Fashion, I intended to sleep in, even if that meant waking up with baby for a little while very early, and then going back to sleep at first chance. Not so. We were both up at the insanely early hour of 4:38 am, and have since been awake. And to make our early morning better baby decided to strike up a conversation, but since he hasn't learned about volume yet, I'm pretty sure he woke up the whole house. The only difference there is that they can choose to stay in bed.
So I decided I would get this cute action on film, both so I could post it, and guilt hubby about staying in bed by showing him all the cuteness that was missed.  But as soon as I turned the camera on, my son started making this weird-retarded looking face,

 and I know he was doing it on purpose, because after I shut the camera off, he resumed his gibbering. And he did it three more times. Finally, on the fifth try I got about a minute of stuff. Although I think he was getting tired of his game, because it sounded like he was just yelling at me.

Anyways, it is sufficiently late enough in the morning to start dinking the coffee I made an hour ago, and then I'm off to chop some celery. I did most of my prep-work yesterday, and though my fridge is now full of orginized packages and plastic bags of pre-chopped veggies, if you just open the fridge door and don't examine the contents to closely, it looks like I have a chopped up person in there. fun.

Turkey day's A-Comin!

Every Year, since my oldest was in diapers, I've done a wandering Thanksgiving.

And yes, I live in Canada, so we do thanksgiving now, not right next to Christmas. That would be too much turkey all at once.
Anyways.
So Wandering Thanksgiving. I basically call everyone I know up, and let them know that I will have a huge meal waiting at my house, and that if they have no where else to go, or if they don't want to go where else, they can join me. Sometimes I don't get a big turn out, in fact once I had two people, and we each came away with about a weeks worth of food. Once I ran out, which was nice, and we ended up having to bake up a couple of frozen pizzas.
I also used to do this for Christmas, since at the time I was too poor to make it out to my folk's places, but since last year, the hubby and I kinda like it better just to hide in our hole until Santa Claus goes away.  but I like doing this.
Somewhere deep in the heart of me is a little old scandanavian grandma who just wants to stuff people until they explode, and besides, nothing rips the holiday spirit out like formal gathering. I prefer absolutely casual. As long as you wear pants.

So this year, I've got an extensive menu, as follows:
Turkey-18lbs
Ham-5lbs
Mashed Potato
Twice-baked Yams
Veggie Platter
Stuffed Mushrooms
Cream Cheese Roll-ups
Cranberry Sauce
Gravy
Green Bean Casserole
Pumpkin pie
Apple Pie

...so far.

And the head count as of last night? 6, including my family, but discluding my youngest, who can't eat yet...

hopefully a few more show up...

The Date

@6:30 am: I woke up with the baby, very excited because you were coming home today and we were going to go out for a date, by ourselves, for the first time since baby was born.

@7:30 am: I made a pot of coffee, but I limited myself to two cups so I wouldn't be all gassy tonight. Nothing says 'I love you' like getting all your gas out beforehand.

@9:30 am: I had a shower because baby was asleep so I'd be able to use a leave-in treatment on my hair, and also shave my legs thoroughly in the tub, not hurriedly in the sink.

@11:00 am: I painted my toes all pretty for you, even though I knew you probably wouldn't notice, but they were bugging me pretty bad.

@2:30 pm: The babysitter called and said that she couldn't watch the kids tonight because she had spent the last two hours hugging the porcelain princess, and she didn't want to risk any mishaps.

@ 2:50 pm: I had exhausted the babysitting options, which are admittedly quite limited right now, as there are only a few people who I trust with our three month old, and none were available.

@3:10 pm: I vowed to myself that we could still have a nice evening in together, so I took off the Parental Controls on the T.V. so we could rent a Movie-On-Demand, and I started to prepare a meatloaf with homemade mashed potatoes and corn-off-the-cob, because I knew you would appreciate a home cooked meal.

@4:30 pm: You called and told me you would be running late, and wouldn't be able to leave for home for another hour or so, and since the drive was 21/2 hours from there to here, maybe we should do the date another time. And I said that was okay because the babysitter was busy puking anyway, but that I had homemade meatloaf on the make, and I'd make sure to keep it warm in the oven for you. And you said that would be Fantastic since you've eaten nothing but fast food for the last week anyways, and would love a home cooked meal.

@5:00 pm: I put the meatloaf in the oven, which takes one hour to cook, and I put on my shirt that has the hint of cleavage but slims the tummy, and I put on some mascara and blush because the top made me feel a little sexy, and I wanted to surprise you since all you've seen of me in the last 5 months has been pj pants, messy hair, and shirts stained with spit up.

@5:45 pm: The baby spit up all over my sexy shirt, and I realized that since I hadn't put on mascara in 5 months, that my mascara had expired and turned all flaky, and I looked like that guy from Clockwork Orange, but without the bowler hat, and half the bat-shit Crazy.

@ 5:50 pm: I had on a less sexy shirt, and decided to take the makeup off, because all of my stuff had expired, and I didn't want to run the risk of having an adverse reaction and end up looking like a muppet. or something.

@6:30 pm: I pulled out a  very crisp meatloaf, and realized that the corn is turning green and fuzzy. the older son get Kraft Dinner for supper. I get a glass of wine.

@7:45 pm: Baby has had an explosive poo all over the only pair of pants I fit into that aren't made of flannel. I return to the pj pants.

@8:30 pm: I put older son to bed because he has school in the morning, and i go lay down on the couch with baby. Then I remember that tomorrow's a holiday and there's no school but i leave him in bed anyways because i need a minute to myself. The baby spits up on me again. i wipe it off, but don't bother to change the shirt.

@9:48 pm: I wake up on the couch when you get in the door. I offer you some Kd, but you ate something on the way home.

@9:53 we both get into bed, too tired to do much else but sleep. And as you're drifting off, you let rip a big loud Welcome Home! fart.

Halloweens gone past, part 2

When my son was two, all he wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be Spiderman on Halloween.
He reasoned, as a two-year old's mind will reason, that he could stay up that late, and be okay because he wouldn't be himself. He'd be the invincible Spiderman.


As it turned out, that week my son had a bad flu, he had been spiking temps of about 103.-whatever since Monday the 29th, and was not in the best of health for tricky-treating. But, alas, daycare is such a wonderful place, that by the time pick-up time came around, he was up and about, full of Motrin, and running a wonderful little 'I'm goin tricky-treatin! yay for candy' rant, and since his dad had promised a week before to take him out, I couldn't really say no. Could I? So off home we went, and by the time we picked up hid dad from work, the little tyke was passed out. yup, snoring in the car seat, oblivious to the whole day. Should I have just moved him from car seat to bed and not even tried the rest of the night? said enuf is enuf, and be done with it? probably. 


So we got back to my home, and his dad gets sonny out of the car seat, and sonny wakes up and lo and behold, starts the rant again. Now this whole rant was really kinda cute to hear in a way, since he was losing his voice, and it was coming out a squeak, so it kinda sounded like he was daydreaming. huh. So we got him inside, and bring out the spider man costume, figure we can tour the apartment building, and go home. Here is the first trial. Even though sonny had worn the costume before, He didn't want to wear it with clothes on. So we took off the clothes. Then he didn't want to wear it at all. He couldn't understand as we tried to explain that you can only get candy if you dress up. 'I can't wear it', he wailed, and for a kid that's losing his voice, that's pretty impressive. So we asked why, and he replied' I can't tell you' and then proceeded to get really upset. So I asked hid dad to go put on his chef whites that he wore to work that day, and tell Logan that Daddy dressed up for candy, can you? NO. but if both daddy and mommy dress up for candy, then can you? NO! and more balling. 


So this went on for about, oh, 10-15 minutes, and then finally I told hid dad to calm kiddo down, don't ask him any more questions, and I started rooting thru the boxes in the storage closet for years past costumes. Couldn't find anything. Looked in my closet and his for anything that he could dress up as. Couldn't find anything. Then, on the brink of everyone bursting into tears, I found a pair of kiddy wranglers that good ol' uncle Hungarian and auntie had got him for the Christmas before, that were a couple sizes too big, and I couldn't say inspiration hit me,... it was more like desperation. So in the background with sonny wailing, and his dad only slightly freaking out, and me more so, I found a vest that I wore and a cowboy hat I had that badly needed reshaping, and asked sonny if he wants to be a cowboy. NO. the wails get worse and after yet another failed attempt at explaining that only dressed-up kids get candy, it's his dad's turn for a brilliant idea. 


How about we just get you re-dressed and then go out for candy? 


Ok. 


So we put him into the wranglers, and then a sweater, and then another sweater, and then his big boots, and a scarf, and got a pillow case. Sneaky. At that point we asked him if he wanted to wear the cowboy hat. Big mistake. The wailing started again, and at this point the mommy-meter for patience was worn out, and I wailed 'OK! NO HAT! LETS JUST GET A BASEBALL CAP AND PRETEND YOU'RE A FARMER!' 


But we brought the hat along just in case. 


So we decided to go outside, to the street just behind us that sonny and I used to meander through many times before, and when we got to the first house, I asked sonny if he wanted to wear the cowboy hat. 


Ok.


AHHHH! I should have known. 


So we got to the first couple of houses okay, including the one guy who just moved in and was renovating, so he gave sonny a couple of granola bars and a box of kd, then shut his porch light off. So as Logan was finally getting into the spirit of things, we got to this house in a cul-de-sac thing, and Logan went up, yelled(as best he could, which wasn't much with no voice, so mom and dad had to help) tricky- treating! And this little old lady answered the door, and she fell all over him like he's the cutest thing she's ever seen and of course in doing so, boosts up said parents egos and confidence, and then she asked him The Question. 


'Are you a cowboy?'


At this sonny looked so offended, and responded angrily' NO! I'm a Sonny! '


And the lady let out a twitter, and said 'I'm sorry, we don't get many Sonny's dressed-up here."


And sonny said, 'I'm not dressed- up! Don't talk to me'


and turned around. 


yeah.


Fan-tastic.


So after mass apologies, and I think the lady wasn't too offended, she still gave him raisins, and we were on our way. So I think sonny cheered up a bit after that, and did his usual flirting, and got mass handouts, and I do mean mass handouts, we hit 20 houses or so, and sonny filled half a pillow case. There was even one house, where the parents were ready to take Their kids out, and so they gave sonny like six bags of chips. 
This was also the house sonny met Spider man. There was a five-six yr old dressed up as spider man, and he gave sonny one of the bags of chips, and you could just see His eyes go Wide! and soo surprised, and he said,'HI SPIDER MAN!' and went to give this kid a hug, and I'm glad this kid wasn't older and more wary, cuz he returned the hug, and sonny was just glowing. His dad and I didn't really have the heart to tell him that spider man is a little taller than 3 foot 3. And after we hit one side of the street, it was time to go home, as his dad and I were taking turns either holding the candy-filled pillowcase, or holding Logan, and to tell the truth, it was hard to tell which weighed more. 


So we got home, and logan got back down to his diaper, and mommy dumped out the pillow-case to search for 'tainted' goodies, and it wasn't bad, I only threw out a marshmallow thing and the box of raisins. I swear some people should definitly check expiration dates if they're going to give out healthy food. I don't condone it, in fact I recommend it, but really. Dont just give it away cuz it's been in your cupboard for the last five years, and you can't bring yourself to throw it out....






p.s. this story was brought over from my other blog, so if some of the bits are present tense, not past, and don't quite make sense, that's why. 

Halloween's gone past, part 1

When my oldest was but a babe, and Halloween was coming, I was stuck in a small town alone and lonely, my nearest friend being 2 hours away, and myself being the only one I knew who had a child.

I was also young, and still held in the thrall of Halloween's mystery, it's ghoulish presence an ever-weighing thought upon my naive mind.

I wanted so badly to take some part in All Hallows eve, and though I was far away from parties or trick-or treating with like-minded friends, I vowed I would still take some part in it.

So on that night, I strapped my son, then only 4 months old, into his stroller, clad in a beautifully hand-knit creation from my aunt, not unlike a carbag.

She had used a lovely shade of deer-hide brown with eggshell white along the trim of the hood and zipper. As beautiful her creation was, my son looked like a potato in it.

I thought to dress him up for the event, but the only costume they had for children in that pathetic town I lived in was a vampire costume, complete with fangs. I borrowed red face paint from his father, who had dressed up to go out marauding with his friends(and obviously thought I would be fine with it) and drew two drippy lines down each side of his mouth, then draped  the cape around my son's tuber-like exterior.

Vampire potato. Baked he would be in the light, my tuber of the Night....

And in that fiendishly cold evening, even though we only lasted a half hour outside, even though he had drooled his 'blood drippings' off about 2 minutes after we got outside, and even though at every house we stopped at whoever answered the door gave me strange pitied or somewhat annoyed looks, even though when we got back to the house, my son's grandfather was on the phone reassuring some random neighbour I was not crazy, even then,  I had the time of my life. And my son did too, cooing at everyone who passed by.

My little potato in a cape.

My son the parrot, and Stereotypes proved right

My son's last day of Flag football was yesterday, and being that my hubby's out of town for work, we had to have our assistant coach step up to the plate. I'm probably the only one who notices it, but there is a super distinct change in listening skills with the kids when an alternate Coach comes on. My hubby tends to leak authority where ever he goes, and even from the first moments of him coaching, the team was well aware of who held that authority. This other dad just doesn't seem to hold it. but I digress.

I wanted to talk about sonny's last full game of flag football for two reasons. #1 being how my son stood up for himself, and #2 being Mr. coulda-made-it-to-the-big-time coachie of the opposing team.

So without further ado:

#1. My son has always had issues with standing up for himself, he would never hurt a flea. He's somewhat an emotional child as well, which has always given me little pangs of grief for how his school upbringing will be, and  the torture he'll go through. We all know about bullying, and we all know that the bullies who do the worst damage are the ones that we never even suspect to be the bullies. Besides, my son's never even been able to take a hit, he got pushed by a 3 year old, (even though this kid had ham hocks for arms and a mean left hook) and he just fell down and then walked away from the kid without saying a word. We had to show him how to stand up for himself, and this has been an ongoing thing, what to say, how to react, that it's okay to show emotions but not to give in to them.etc...

So last night, during pre-game warm up, they were practicing catching the ball. Sonny and another child both got their hands on it, and wrestled a little. Meanwhile, another kid, lets call him bob, runs over to the wrestling pair, shouts at sonny that the other kid had got it, and then, even though the two on the ground were giggling and not really fighting over the ball, bob goes over to sonny, yells that he never got the ball, why doesn't he just quit now, he's not very good, and then bops him on the head, not just a little bop either, he reared up for it.

And what does sonny do?

Well, he gets up, no tears, and goes over to bob, and give him the whatfor in Mommy speak.

Example: How dare you hit me! Don't ever do that again! That was just stupid! You try that again and you won't like what happens next!.

So I guess we need to work on what to say when someone bullies you, but I'm so very glad that he had the courage not to just lie there and cry, but to get up and get back in that kid's face and tell him it was NOT okay to do that.

#2. We all know or at least have heard of the Guy who played Football in his highschool years, perhaps his college years, was very good and had hopes of going pro, but just wasn't quite good enough to get there? The guy who stays up late at night to draw out plays, and relive old days, watching each football game that's on t.v. with a renewed fervor, knowing all the mistakes and coming up with alternate plays that 'Surely would've done the trick'? The guy who has all the sports packs on tv, in HD, The guy who has tsn.com and espn.com on bookmark, the guy who makes sure to answer all the tsn polls even if they're just on Jersey colour?
The guy who still wears his college t-shirts to anything and everything, even if they're massively sweat-stained, holey, and don't quite fit anymore?

Well, that's the guy who coached the opposite team. I wish I had a picture, it was extremely stereotypical, like he looked up all the symptoms for a failed NFL/CFL player, just so he could look the part right...

Sorta like:

or maybe like:

you get the picture...( he was a fantastic character, btw, too bad they changed him up for a chick...)

Anyways, he spent the entire game yelling at his team about Angles, ANGLES!, checking his CFL regulated clipboard, blowing his whistle, and sweating profusely.

It was Classic.

And by the way, I told hubby about this, who is sort of a minor version of this type of guy, but with baseball, and he told me that they don't do angle training until highschool or later, whatever that means. But attempt to teach a 6 year old this, a 6 year old who is still only able to aim inside the toilet bowl about 60% of the time, seems kinda pointless to me...

Boy Can Baby Sing!

My youngest has pretty much figured out that he can control his noises.
Example:

Now, we just have to wait for him to figure out that square object does Not fit in round hole...

And let me tell you, if he had stopped moving when I took this, you would've seen nothing but wrist...

My Family Can H-O-R-S-E around

My son may not be the most Sporty of kids, but he tries.
And boy does he Love Flag Football.

My hubby, The Coach 

In for a huddle

lining up

Sonny running after a kid from the other team that he accidentally passed the ball to...

And he only ran in the wrong direction 3 out of 5! gettin better. What a hoot...

Not Playing around

This is a Fantastic Person, and a Fantastic Response to what's been going on lately. 
I think you should read it. 

Here

Mourning the loss of play for a few days...

I've Decided to Do a Nablopomo Challenge, which I haven't done in AGES, and I feel like being somewhat more productive on this blog as of late.

So on that note, I want to write about my son. He's 6 years old, and loves to play. He's a very bright boy(not just being biased), and he's very extroverted when at school. However. When he gets home, he loves to go into his imaginary world, and prefers to play by himself. He has actually turned down play dates if they are going to be near his room. I know kinda weird, but I want him to know that we can respect his privacy, and that he can learn likewise to everyone else.
My son has a rat, who is very adorable, and very loving, and has certainly turned my position on rodents living in my house. My son agreed to taking on certain responsibilities when he got the rat. Particularly the feeding, caring for, and clean up of the rat. He named it Freddie, and took on those responsibilities quite well, at the start.
But since School has started again, he's shirked on his duties, and it has become a chore in it's own right to remind him to clean up after the thing, since the animal is mostly free-range in his bedroom. (He's potty trained, but slip-ups happen every once in a while)
Last evening in particular. my hubby, fed up with the constant reminding, he gave my son an ultimatum: either he get grounded, or we throw the rat away, since obviously he was done taking care of it, wasn't he?
All sarcasm gets lost on a 6 year old, and as my son thought this was an actual decision he'd have to make, he quickly jumped in with the easy way out; he would throw the rat away, that yes, he was done with the whole thing.
Well.
I read somewhat constantly on the selfishness of 6 year olds, how self-preservation tends to rule the roost at that age, but in light of this revelation of my son, I have to admit, I was shocked.

I know he didn't understand that throwing Freddie in the garbage would mean death, couldn't make the connection to that, and probably didn't think much past how you put a toy to the side when you are done playing with it. you can always come back to it later, right?

So after a stern talking to and a slap on the butt  as part of his punishment, he is now grounded for the weekend, foregoing all sports activities, playing, and reading. He is to sit on his chair and think how he can be more compassionate, and he is to help with chores all weekend. He is only to read when reading to his little brother, and he foregos all snacks in his lunch for the rest of the week(which is technically only today, but he doesn't have to know that)

I do that for my son, so he can learn to be a better person, but sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it wrong, taking the wrong route  to his growing up.

But I'm of the mind that just having a conversation with a child isn't enough, you have to make sure they feel properly bad about their choice,  that remorse is there so that they can work to rectify their mistakes...