Tips for the half- awake mom:

1. When making Mac and cheese, Check the label on your soy milk to make sure it's not vanilla flavoured. There is not enough hot sauce in the world to tone that shit down.

2. Turn on the light when making Coffee. Yes, I know you know where everything is, and you're a master at the squinty pour, but when your hubby decides to be helpful by pre-making the pot the night before, it won't go well.

3. Take the Damn Dog to a groomer. He is a 90 pound lab.  He is sooo Not as easy to trim nails on as the cat is.

4.  Turn on the light when putting on your clothes.  come on. Even just a lamp. *sigh* you better be relieved you don't own any thongs. (due to the big butt collapse of 2009, in case any of you actually needed to know that )

5. Dammit, just because you go to the gym now does NOT mean you can reward yourself with cheeseburgers! No! Bad Mommy, that's NO! *face squirt from water bottle* that's a Baad Mommy.

6. Remember the laundry detergent when you do laundry.

7. Remember you did laundry.

8. Please, please, remember to let the dog out at night. He thinks he's a cat if you don't and it just scares Eldest when he has to clean the cat litter tray and he thinks daddy's been sleep-pooping again. (High-fives for the sleep-pooping thing though, wonder if hubby will ever catch on...)

9. Remember to let hubby help around the house, even if you have to reorganize what he did after he leaves the room. He offered to help, it's his funeral.

10. If you stopped drinking what's left in the coffee pot at night, maybe you'd get some actual sleep, and then maybe you wouldn't have to write these stupid tip sheets for yourself, dumb-ass.

With lack of anything better to do in my dreams, it seems I'm reverting to my high school self.

I had a dream last night that I was still in high school. or maybe college. Anyways, I was in the music class and we had to sing an x-mas song for the teacher, and the teacher volunteered me to sing the main bit. So Apparently I have been watching too much Sister Act 2 cuz all the sudden we were all singing Joyful Joyful,


*Totally not even an x-mas movie, but Lauren Hill was awesome before she went bat-shite*

 and I sang out the first verse. And it was horrible. In real life I sing, and in dream life I've always been better because I can access ll the little terms and ditties that I can never recall in real life. So you can imagine how bad it was for me to listen to myself in my dream. I could hear every missed cue, every inflection or warble gone horribly wrong, and how deep my voice sounded comparatively. But the other kids in the school didn't notice. They thought it was amazing, so they voted me to sing to some director of the board of Education or something. Maybe the program was going under or something? I don't know. So We started practicing, and it's just like every over-achieving-stressed kids nightmares, when all the students around you are saying 'I'm counting on you', and 'You better not let us down' and shit like that. And then I started mixing up the lyrics. Let me tell you it was Fucking terrifying. And then the big boss guy came in and all the sudden the room was bigger, and there was a stand in the front of the room and I got pulled to one side by the teacher basically telling me to 'Not screw up'. Then I went up and did the same horrible job I did the first time, only it was worse because the room was deadly silent, and every one realized this time round just how bad I was, and then I got pulled out of the room mid song by the big boss and the teacher, and they expelled me right there, and then the kids in the class decided to have a good ol' fashioned torch mob and come after me, and then I woke up.

Moral lesson? Don't eat the white Ferrerro Rochers before bed. They're coconut and white chocolate, and I swear the center has LSD in it, and that's why no one eats them anymore. fuck me.



p.s. I love the rap in this song, it makes absolutely no sense other than it's catering to the 'cool' people. Stay in School y'all.

On the elderly, fear, and Ice skating

As winter begins to present itself in full force, I\m again reminded of more reasons to be mortally afraid of driving with children.
When the First Snow hits, the drivers in the city remind me of little kids playing hockey, falling down a lot, crashing into each other, and usually forgetting altogether about the puck.
When the first melt comes, everyone becomes stock car racers,  trying to urge all puddles off the road by driving as fast and reckless as they possibly can.
Then the final freeze. When all the slush that's left on the road freezes over, and is made 'luxuriously' smooth by those fast tires.
Now, being where I am, it's pretty common for everyone to know how to ice skate, from a very young age, no less. But somehow all that training goes out the window when tires re applied instead of skates. Our insurance here is gov.t regulated, I think mainly because no other competing company wants to have to cash in on so many claims all at once.
Also, maybe it's the snow, maybe the cold, but a lot of people lose their sight really easily in the winter, eyes glazed past the 'baby on board' and 'student driver' stickers, which are pretty much no good here.
Then there are the types of bad drivers to negotiate with:
We've  got teens with novices licences wanting to joy ride and scare the crap out of everyone they drive beside; or Albertans, who are used to speed limits twice that of ours; or little old ladies who just want to get to bingo in their old school tanks that take up two lanes; or the farmers who only follow dirt road speeds and don't pay any attention to any driving sign,road mark, or light. I could go on, but those four types feature prominently, and for that alone the bus doesn't sound so bad.
But then I'm left with a conundrum on the buses too, since toting around a baby in the heavy-duty stroller that's needed for winter is pretty much banned from the bus, and the price of a bus pass costs more than insuring my car and filling the tank every month, ( though I have a pretty old and crappy car, so that cheapens things up a bit too)  and the buses are usually so cram packed with students and elderly, that there's no room for even me, let alone a baby.  So I'm left to drive on side roads to most of my destinations, waiting until peak traffic has passed, which only leaves about 4 hours in the days to drive, and I'm pretty much screwed in the bad driver department, since you'll never escape the little old lady with the penchant for bingo.  *sigh*

This is the first day it seems best NOT to have candles on my cake.

As I type this, my youngest is currently typing on his keyboard, not quite copying my movements so much as beating the crap out of the keyboard. Also, he's now learned(from me) that if he says 'UM NOMNOM' in his loudest voice, he will eventually get some type of food. Conditional training. Although whether I'm training him, or whether it's the other way around is uncertain. But nevertheless, learning is being done in this house.


My birthday is today, so I won't type much, but it's early enough that no one else is up yet, so no harm, no foul. I got a wireless keyboard and mouse from eldest, who just couldn't wait any longer, so I got it last night. The A sticks so that any word I've typed with an a in it has had to be corrected, and I can no longer reaach the enter key with my pinky, but they got it so I could hook up the computer to the T.v. and watch movies, especially when they aare both out of the house, and youngest is asleep.

I'm a quarter of a Century old today, and I've been bombarded with requests to go out and party, but since I'm still feeding youngest, it's probably the best excuse not a great idea, and I'm too lazy to pre-make aa days worth of food for my little piglet, so I'm staying home, at least after I get my new tat with my bestest home girlie.

So, bon-voyge, and a verry merry un-birthday to you all!!!!!!!!!!!!

hmm. the 1 button sticks too.

No, I'm sorry, I can't play Pattycake, I'm left handed.

I'm left-handed. Not a big horrible thing, I know, but an imposition no less. I've always had issues with writing, my hand smearing ink and pencil alike, and my words cramped and slanted. But since the Computer got popular in school not too long after I started writing, that was never a Big issue. Even in Grade 4 when my Teacher had lunch-time Calligraphy classes, and she had to spend several hours extra with me because I was the only lefty she had taught other than herself, it was no biggie. It wasn't until I got into baking and cooking that being a leftie started to seem like a horrible thing. You would be amazed the utensils used in cooking that are for the majority, can-openers, pizza cutters, knives, etc. Even when I was stirring, it seemed so much more natural for everyone else than it was for me. I'd try to stir, and my shoulder would go up to my ear, my elbow out, my spoon or spatula getting constantly stuck in some invisible rut that only lefties could feel, while righties were smoothly stirring away, like they were whipping up a cloud. I began to try to do things right-handed, as some of the sports I learned were taught me by a rightie, and so it was easier in some ways, but it was of no use, as I felt like I had cut off some vital limb and was limping through my tasks, watching with tearfull eyes at everyone who glided past. I was teaching a friend to make fudge one time, and even she seemed to note that, while my finished product was amazing, putting it together looked painful. And all the sudden, Writing was important again, and though supremely tasty to clean up, I knew I could never be a cake decorator.
And of course, lefties have been made fun of for forever, from the Internets, to Religions, to bully-kids with nothing better to do( I still have fingers that don't point in the same direction thanks to them), to the Simpsons and South Park alike.
This post, like many others of mine, fails to have a point that I can match up in my brain, since my brain seems to have ADD when making valid points, but I think the gist of this rant was to say that we are all different, we all have things that we do differently. That does not make us bad. Or slow. Or Evil. It just makes us different. And as much as we are all the same, we are all different. So get over it.

Disconnected thought stuffs, and longing for a sundae

I would put these into some kind of story for you, but they're all mostly too random to connect, so here ya go.

Pineapple.

-On this next Saturday, I will be 25. One Quarter of a Century. That is all.

My hubby and eldest went shopping on the past weekend for birthday gifts. After an hour of being gone, they called to ask me what I wanted, them both being too self-absorbed to notice my not-so-subtle hints,( 'gee I'd really like an mp3 player for when I go to the gym', 'We should get a proper speatzle maker, maybe for X-mas?') So I repeated the hints, a mite disappointed to have the surprise ruined, the only thing I actually like about birthdays. When they got home, they both pestered me about opening my gifts straight-away, both lacking the patience. I have so far successfully declined, although when I went in my son's room today to get his laundry hamper, his gift was right out in the open. I will pretend to not have noticed, although my disappointment has ceased, since it was none of the things I had told them on the phone.

-My youngest has had a running fever for the past two days, nothing but the fever. Right before the tylenol kicks in  he is somewhat delirious, and the effect makes him very giggly and cuddly at the same time. He laughed at the cat coming into the room for ten minutes. He grasped faces and gave big sloppy kisses on my cheek(something he has just learned) then he puked down my shirt and laughed for another ten minutes. Helped along by daddy, of course. 

-My hubby's schedule has been changed, due to the fact that he is soo badass at his job, they're keeping him in town until after New year's so he can help train others of the relief persuasion. This means that the food bills go up, but my general stress level goes down. 

-Leslie Nielson died this weekend from Pneumonia, or complications thereof. I know a lot of people who will miss him, as he either directly influenced, or was copied by, a lot of the comedic actors I know. He was 84, so I hope he did at least most of what he wanted to do in life. 

-I watch more than my fair share of t.v., since even at the gym they have it blaring in my face, and lately I've gotten obssessed with "Man VS. Food" Which is basically a show about some guy who loves to eat so much he looks constantly on the brink of heart attack, but he visits some of the coolest restaurants in the states, so I can see why. 

The challenge he's doing is called the kitchen sink, which is 2 gallons of ice cream and toppings in a sink. yup. I couldn't find the video I wanted with the perfect sundae, but this one's just as, well, interesting. He does a lotr of challenges, and most of them make me never want to be hungry again, but I always come away craving chicken wings, or a fat and sexy sandwich, or pancakes.

Of Raccoons, Rubber Chickens, and Inflammation of the Exasperation Bone

~And then, with one final expelling of breath, her head exploded into a fine white dust, and the cat sauntered over and proceeded to lap it up like powdered sugar~

Well, not really. But my Fourth Grade teacher always said that to hook a reader into a story you needed to have an outrageous Title, and an equally gripping first line. So there you go. You're welcome.

*WARNING! This post does not contain any of what was just said above. except for the head bursting maybe.*

So After a week and a half of not staying in bed to sleep off a vicious flu, although in retrospect I should have, as it might not have lasted a week and a half if I did, I decided today I was well enough to try the gym again. Well, for more than one reason. Remember how I said I got three months free? well, at the time I had also decided to sign up for a couple of years thinking that if I eventually had to pay for it, that would keep up my motivation for going, as I'm quite a stingy person, and like to get as much out of what I pay for as I can. Well, upon checking my bank the other day, I noticed that the account I use for expenses was 40 dollars overdrawn. Well, it was originally 85 bucks overdrawn, but since there was no money to go through, the payment was retracted and the NSF fees put in. So I called up the gym in a panic, why the hell were they charging me this? And since the girl who had signed me up was unavailable, the half wit at the desk tried politely explaining to me what the payment was for, as if I didn't know. A registration fee, a monthly fee, and a babysitting fee. Even after I tried telling her that since I had the first three months free my sign-ee had waived the registration fees, and, oh yeah, I HaVE THE FIRST THREE MONTHS FREEEEEEE.   She didn't grasp it. So I called back later in the day, when dim-wit stated she'd be in, and when I finally got her on the phone she noted everything down, and said the next time I came in I should come to the front desk and they'll give me a refund on the NSF fees. So I came in today with multiple purposes. Not to mention I get the best showers there, because I don't have a distressed hubby and baby just outside the door asking when I'll be done. Another motivating factor. When I first came in, however, the desk was pretty busy, so I decided to wait until after my 'workout' and relaxing shower. So I came back after I was done, and when I told the front desk about it, lady lack-wit tending me said, 'but there's no payment come through on your file, you have three months free..." *Head smack* When she finally grasped what I was telling her, she said she had to get someone else who knew what she was doing, and That girl had to call head office to bring up the file so she could properly get the paper work straight. I'm not sure what my sign-ee did to prepare the front desk for me, but apparently it wasn't much, if anything at all. So while girl #2 was on the phone, I went to get baby from the gym sitter's as they were closing for lunch. My youngest has developed a healthy hatred for his car seat unless he's in a moving vehicle, so I had a cranky kid on my hands while girl two was on the phone. When she got off the phone, she told me that I needed to bring in a bank statement to verify what had happened in the account, since head office didn't have a record of giving me an NSF fee, that it might not have shown up on their records yet, but I could call the bank right now and have them fax a statement to them. By this time youngest was putting up a big stink and since the front desk is in the open area with the gym, plenty of people were looking to see who was choking the baby, and I was steadily getting redder in the face at the whole situation, and at seeing the sorry look on the poor girl who basically told me my wait was for nothing, I cracked a little and stomped out the door, barreling into a construction worker who tried to hold a door open for me when I would have none of their courtesy, and slightly banging the outside door, though in more of a 'whoops didn't realize it was that easy to open while holding a gym bag and a car seat', rather than in a show of anger. Of course Scream-y McGee shut up and passed out as soon as the car was on and I had backed out of the parking lot, and then I started to feel guilty, not about the situation as a whole, but about little things. I wanted to apologize to the construction worker who had so politely opened a door and was snubbed; I wanted to apologize to the door.  Frustration does not become me. So I went home and smoked three cigs in a row, and wrote this to get it out of my head, and now here I am. Not sure if I want to show myself in that gym for a while, but seeing as how I also don't want a stupid charge that somehow doesn't exist on one end on my end as well, I guess I'll have to go back. sheesh.

Not endorsing it, but it did work..... against my will...

Since I started going to the gym, I have seen definite improvements in areas. Such as my two sets of butt cheeks have grown into each other to yet again become one set. My thighs no longer make a loud cricket noise when I walk. You can barely tell there's any noise at all. And when I do the Arm Dance? The motion no longer continues when I stop flapping.  But let me put the numbers up to you anyway. With the Gym? No pounds lost yet, as all my fats and their little fat children are being converted to muscles, and apparently muscle weighs slightly more than fat. or the same. I dunno. Having the Stomach Flu this past weekend, that left me in more pain than a day at the gym has ever done, ever? 12 pounds. yup, 12 pounds of whatever I was eating, would eat, and did eat was forcibly shed from me. Funny.

Gym'n it!

So On Monday, I went to the gym. I know, A little late to be talking about it, but whatever. I went to the women's section, cuz on Mondays the regular section is Filled with big Muscular Boys, and girls with tiny waists, and the ability to run marathons, and frankly it's like being an In-valid on Gattaca, and so I go to the women's section with all the other old biddies, which is actually more depressing, because then I follow around 70 year old grandmas who could ALL kick my ass.
Anyways, I went on my aunt's favorite machine, the Road that goes Nowhere, or the Deathmill to Hell. I went on for a staggering 30 minutes, on a rising incline throughout, slowly turning a lovely shade of Pomegranate. Twice the employee who watches over the women's section to make sure none of us old biddies keel over, came by to ask how I was doing. If I was anywhere near capable of speech at the time, I would have told her that turning funny colours is sort of a family past-time when it comes to exercising, My aunt turning a pretty Poinsettia, my day almost a rusty beet. But I was trying to concentrate on panting evenly, so I just nodded and smiled while looking ahead, half-afraid that if I turned to look at her, my body would follow my head, as I was no longer able to move my body parts separately, and that could be Catastrophic to me. I'm clumsy enough as it is.

My deathmill faced a window at least, so I could imagine I was running on real ground, impervious to the biting cold, rain, and uber-slippery sidewalk. Of course, since I was staring at the crappy day instead of the mirrors on my backside, I didn't notice the little booger that was peeking out at every exhale like a ghostly jack-in-the-box waayyy too late for halloween. Thank goodness when the trainer came around the third time to see how my self-inflicted Cardiac Arrest was coming along, she got distracted by my peek-a-boo booger, and instead of telling my to get off before I fall off, she made nervous eyes at my nose, and made wiping motions. My intuitive self thought she looked about to sneeze, so I politely averted my eyes until she passed me a kleenex. I decided that it was about time to do something else, so I wandered around until I noticed the backwards ab machine that looks like this:

See the ones where his bum is in the air? That's what I decided to do. One set of 10. by the fifth time up I had to fart something fierce, and I thought I could get away with it if I let it out slowly the next time up. But while I was upside down formulating my plan of action, I was oblivious to the fact that the trainer had let two contractor guys in to look at a ceiling crack directly above my bum.

Needless to say the workout was over pretty much instantly. Though, all in all, it was one of my better workouts....

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....

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.

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

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!

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.