Troll Baby

See ya!

2006-05-02T19:54:00.000-04:00

Well smack my ass and call me Judy! Troll Baby has moved! Change your bookmarks, blogrolls and feeds. And git yer ever-lovin' asses over there now!

I am Married to an Old Fart

2006-04-28T08:03:00.000-04:00

This past week, Daren went to the Willie Nelson concert. With his Mother. And his Father. And his Uncle. And his 80-something year old Grandmother. Now I'm all for a family outing, but going to a Willie Nelson concert? I have to draw the line. It's bad enough that Daren listens to talk-radio.

I was invited to go, but truthfully I don't think I could have managed to go there without a bottle of shampoo, a scrub brush and a pair of scissors. Willie Nelson is a wonderful singer, but he really needs some help in terms of that hair.

Daren text messaged me from the concert, I'm assuming that it was during intermission:

"Willie kicks ass."

"Willie smells like kife and needs a haircut."

"Infidel!" he shot back.

"I love you even though you love Willie. Love is blind like that."

"You're damn right u luv me" What is he, 13? u luv me?

"You're pretty mouthy. Does your Willie hurt or something?"

"Yes can u help me?" Geez with the "u." It's hard to find him attractive when all I can think about is that my teenage cousins type like that.

"Not tonight dear. There's a red ribbon in the typewriter. Write the letter yourself. xo"

I heard nothing back so I'm assuming Willie started playing again, or I sufficiently grossed my husband out.

When he got home, I put his teeth in a glass on the nightstand with some Polident, and slathered prescription cream on his Psoriasis. Then we lay there in our Insta-matic double beds and talked about the neighbours until his excitement kicked in about tomorrow being garbage day. Course he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence, eventually snoring like a buffalo. So I had to clap off the lights and try and sleep through the noise.

And the laughter continues......

2006-04-27T19:01:00.000-04:00

Broke Mac Mountain

(you need Quicktime)

I Need Depends

2006-04-27T13:04:00.000-04:00

This made me laugh my ass off. Well, I wish.

Laundry Upsets Linus

2006-04-27T09:22:00.000-04:00

I'm raising a Linus. Troll Baby has been toting around his Gangket for weeks and every few days I have to wash it, lest it become a hairy mess of dried raisins, dog hair and drool. He is currently pleading with the laundry room door, with cries of "Gangket! Gangket!" and no amount of explanation is appeasing him.

I'm considering Gangket Anonymous. I mean, he is working through the steps anyway:

1. "Admitted he were powerless over Gangket- that his life had become unmanageable."

"Gangket in washer. Love Gangket." Hugging Mommy in earnest. Very sad eyes. Tears and snot flowing.

2. "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity".

"Gangket love. Tonnus Gangket love." Sitting in front of the laundry room door, in prayer position.

3. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of Mommy as we understood her."

Now in Mommy's lap, trying to watch Baby Einstein. Now quiet, though every so often, small voice says, "Gangket." Many sighs.

4. "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of himself."

Very honestly, says, "No Gangket." Inventory is still depleted of Gangket, as washer continues to spin the addiction in sudsy water.

5. "Admitted to God, to himself and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs."

I don't know about God, but currently cheating on Gangket with Teddy and another Gangket.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

The only defects are the ones getting washed away currently. Dog hair, dried raisins and drool being lifted from the fibres of Gangket as we speak. Sadly again, "Gangket." Mommy's heart is breaking along with Troll Baby's.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

"He" really can't do much about it. Mommy already removed Gangket. What more is there? Much sorrow. Now pleading for Daddy to get Gangket.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

No persons were harmed in the washing of Gangket. Unless you count the elbow to Mommy's breast in the major upset of Gangket's disappearance.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Direct amends will be made to Gangket upon exit from dryer. Mommy can go eat worms. She is mean and cruel.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

Gangket still missing. Mommy is the one who is wrong here. Gangket's disappearance is her fault.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

Praying for Gangket still not helping. Nor is laying on tummy on family room floor helping. But the cool tile feels nice. Gangket seems to be gone forever.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to Gangket-o-holics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Don't know any other Gangket-o-holics. Spiritual awakening will commence at the sound of dryer buzzer. Gangket shall be mine!

Neutered

2006-04-26T07:51:00.000-04:00

"We need to get your follow up check done."

"Well I need help with that. One morning this week, you can get up with me and help."

"I am not getting up at 5 a.m. to help you with that."

"C'mon. I had my nutsac cut open for you."

"For me? And please. You had a 5 minute operation. Have you SEEN the size of your son's heads? I went through a hell of a lot more than you. Nine months of pregnancy, labour and delivery, and 13 months collectively, of having a two pronged udder. Oh please."

"Oh please, yourself."

"That was my point. Please yourself. "

Getting All Scrappy!

2006-04-25T08:55:00.000-04:00

Here is a sampling of my first order from Mz Penny's Creations. They are amazing, aren't they? They were only $15 Canadian for 12 cards - personalization and shipping included! That is so much better than the store-bought cards and they are so beautiful too. I've already placed another order for 12 Thank You cards. If you want some, email Penny.

Wild.....

2006-04-24T14:44:00.000-04:00

....Me Gorilla Man.

Me drag Wife 'Round by Hair.

Me love Cheese.

Me have best friend who give you finger.

Me want you to stop taking picture of me.

Theme courtesy of Mama Says Om.

Comeback: Part One

2006-04-24T09:06:00.000-04:00

I finished Part One of Comeback this weekend and WOW. This story is so powerful and heartbreaking. I find myself empathizing with both Claire, and her daughter Mia, one minute knowing the vulnerability of my own heart as a mother, and the next minute remembering what it was like at 15, loving and hating the authority of parents. We all knew everything at that age, right?

The writing in this book is easy to read, but the story is hard to take. The abuse Mia suffered at the hands of her father brought tears to my eyes several times. Some of you know of my volunteer work to fight the epidemic of pedophilia, and how passionate I am about it. I felt the sadness of both Mia and Claire as they revisited this time in their lives.

Some of the metaphors in this book are so beautifully written, I had to stop, read them again and just relish in the beauty of the writing. There aren't so many that I was distracted, just enough that I was in awe of the talented writing.

~~I can't wait to emmerse myself in~~ Part Two is read, and I'm well into Part Three. It's safe to say, I can't put this book down.

Note: I am not being paid to review this book. These are indeed my true feelings on the book. In case you were wondering.

An Amazing Weekend Filled with Love, Happiness and Appreciation

2006-04-24T00:01:00.000-04:00

Thank you for your well wishes for Dylan. I called our chiropractor after the pain was continuing to bother Dylan, and he graciously came into his office to see us on Saturday. Dylan had 2 ribs slightly out of place and might have a pulled muscle between those ribs. Since he was adjusted, he hasn't had the pain. Too bad the medical community doesn't value chiropractic in this country. The chiropractor will follow up tomorrow night. I hope that this is what was causing the pain. It's so much better to know, then to worry and worry and worry.

So we took off for a few hours yesterday to see Daren's lifelong best friend, his wife and new baby. We had a blast with the kids, took a picture of a really strange sign, and laughed muchly.

Miss Ann Thrope

2006-04-22T10:23:00.000-04:00

I'm renting to Miss Ann Thrope this week and even though she has cats (gag me - they are so like, useless), she's pretty cool. She had her birthday yesterday and she is nowhere near as old as the lady in this picture, despite what Mike says. You ought to go visit her - it's too freaking depressing for even me to be here. Comeback has arrived and I must read it. Plus I'm going to be busy for the next few days playing catch up with my lovely clients, considering I've ignored them for 3 days. Thank God my work is not life threatening, or I'd be in real trouble. Peace out homies.

Are you still here? Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now?

As if Dylan's situation wasn't enough......

2006-04-22T00:49:00.000-04:00

I took the car in for the summer maintenence package and now we have a $1200 bill. Fantastic. Our car is sick too.

Since bad things happen in threes, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop here.

Many tears.

Broken Heart

2006-04-21T09:27:00.000-04:00

We spent 8 hours at Children's Emergency last night after Dylan had been experiencing chest pains yesterday at school. No one from school called me and he told me once he got home. Yes, I'm angry about that, but redirecting that energy into being grateful that he is alright.. He's been through the ringer with his heart, and this constant threat wears on us. He's okay. We're tired though, and off to spend the day together. I've hugged him tight many times in the last 24 hours. There will be further testing and I'm more scared than what I'm letting on in front of him.
Have a good weekend.

Boobah and Poker

2006-04-20T14:16:00.000-04:00

You'll notcie a hint of French in Troll Baby's voice. "Play the Coquer?"

This folks, is entertainment.

So they say it's yer birthday.........

2006-04-19T23:58:00.000-04:00

A Huge Shout Out to one of my favorite bloggers. It's not her birthday today, so don't go over there and wish her happy birthday or anything. She'll bite your fool head off.

Happy Birthday, Bizatch!

Love, Me.

While checking email from my font group, which Sassy also belongs to:

2006-04-19T23:44:00.000-04:00

"Oh! Our 10 fonts are in!"

"WHAT?"

"Our 10 fonts are in!"

"HUH?!"

"Oh my god. Our. 10. fonts. are. in. our. email."

"Ohhhhhhhh."

"What did you think I said?"

"Our tampons are in!"

"Yes, I buy my tampons in case lots from eBay. Sure."

Much laughter.

The Pictures I Promised, Getting Tagged, and Other Shit

2006-04-19T22:42:00.000-04:00

Okay to the whole quitting smoking thing sucks. My thoughts are everywhere, and I can't seem to concentrate. Many apologies to my customers. This is what I've been up to for the last two days. It used to be a salmon colour (because we had a salmon and chili pepper Mexican themed duvet cover before this). I love this new dusty-blue-grey. It's soothing and I can't wait to go to bed tonight.
Yes, the trim isn't on the window yet. That is not my department. Now I must hound the shit outta hubby until he gets it done. I'm really good at that though!

So I was tagged by my lovely cousin Jessica and I'm supposed to name six weird things about me and tag 6 others. I'm not tagging anyone, but if you want to do it, have at 'er.

Here's my weirdness:

1) I can do this thing with the muscles in my eyes and look like an alien. I pull the bottom lid muscles in toward my nose and I tried taking a picture of it, but in all of them, I look drunk or you get a great view of my forehead. Ha.

2) I am afraid of squirrels. Deathly afraid. Our neighbourhood is full of them, and they run amok, among trees and on the ground. I would love a major ban put on those fuckers instead of pitbulls. Or maybe in addition to. Whatever.

3) My favorite sandwich is a fried egg, canned salmon, onion and mayonaise sandwich. Yeah it stinks, but it's SO GOOD. Don't knock it till you try it.

4) When I know people are going to come over, I obsessively clean for days before. I actually get down on my hands and knees and up on chairs to inspect EVERYTHING, just so no one can say, "Did you SEE the top of her fridge?" or "Did you SEE behind her toilet?"
Yeah. Because people do that.

5) I'm on the phone at least 6 hours a day with Sassy. We blog together, we post at our MSN group together, we make graphics together, we pee together, we eat together, well, you get the picture. Co-dependent? Oh yes. We've been doing this for over 2 years.

6) I didn't cry at my own wedding. I was too nervous. There were too many people there. I cannot cry in front of people I'm not comfortable with. If, for any reason, I don't trust you, I won't cry anywhere near you. Under the wrong circumstances, I can make myself completely void of emotion. Must be a survival tactic from childhood.

And because I don't follow instructions, here's number 7: I sing. Well. Friends and family love having me at Karaoke bars and sneak those little slips of paper to the Karaoke person while I'm in the bathroom. My favorite song to sing is "Me and Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin. I'm been told I nail that song. The only thing about this talent is that I have to be pretty lubed up to do it. And afterwards, I'm completely sober and shaking. Stage fright city. What a pussy.

Moving right along, I have to share a few things with you, but forgive my lack of brainpower in the whole segway and lead in shit. I'm not up for it since there is no longer fresh nicotine corsing through my veins.

Thomas has learned to say a few more phrases:

"Love ya bizatch," (I taught him that....ha ha)

In the morning, "The sun-ah, is on-ah." I don't know what is with the extra syllables on the ends of words, but it's incredibly cute, and I do believe Troll Baby will be a preacher one day-ah.

At night, "The moon-ah, is on-ah."

"Maka-row-neeeeee."

My girlfriend Nic (who has a 12 year old and a 7 year old - both boys) and I were on the phone tonight and she was telling me how the 12 year old is really sporting an attitude and refuses to brush his mop of hair, and he's always hunched over with his hands in his pockets.

Nic: "Why don't you brush your hair?"

Son, dopey voiced: "Why? It's my hair."

Nic: "Take your hands out of your pockets, you look lazy or sick or something."

Son, dopey voiced: "They're just pockets."

We laughed so hard at this tonight - maybe it's my lack of brain activity, who knows, but "They're just pockets" is SO gonna be my excuse for everything for a while. Dopey voice and all.

Dinner's not made? "They're just pockets."
Kid not at school? "They're just pockets."
Didn't do the laundry? "They're just pockets."

Hey! You know what doesn't have pockets? The Queen wanted to know how Dylan's karate was going - well his Gi arrived today and it does not have pockets:

Addiction

2006-04-18T17:00:00.000-04:00

So I quit smoking again today - cold turkey, as always. Last time I lasted over a year. This time I hope it's for good. I'm chewing gum like a cow chews cud. My jaw hurts.

To distract myself today, I ripped apart our bedroom and painted it. Pictures later.

I got my hair dyed, coloured and highlighted on the weekend. Funky Mama. Pictures later.

This post is boring the shit outta me. I want a cigarette.

My God, WHY????

2006-04-18T08:54:00.000-04:00

Talk Nerdy To Me, Part Deux

2006-04-18T08:38:00.000-04:00

Zazzle announced this morning that they are now offering drinkware. The Talk Nerdy to Me t-shirts are doing so well, I added the morphing mugs: add your hot or cold drink and the image appears! How cool! Or hot. Whatever.

Dude Looks Like A Lady

2006-04-17T22:30:00.000-04:00

You know those days, where you think about the future and wonder if your son will go on the Oprah Show and say, "I knew I was gay when I was 21 months old?"

Yeah that has happened to me today.

Troll Baby LOVES Dora the Explorer and at my insistance, my in-laws were kind enough to buy a Dora dolly for him for Easter. He and I missed the family Easter dinner because his flu that turned into a cold has now morphed into an ear infection. If it morphs again into leprosy or malaria, I'm booking it outta here.

So when Daddy and Dylan walked in last night, stuffed with turkey and potatoes, they brought Dear Dora with them, and I cracked open her box to give her to Troll Baby. God that sounds rude. Don't disrespect the Dora.

"Dowa Dowa!!!" Troll Baby was THRILLED with her, and pointed excitedly at her hairbrush which was still in the box. I pulled it out and he immediately sat on the carpet and began to brush her hair.

Today, Dowa hasn't left his side long enough to The Explorer anything. She came with us to the dentist, to the chiropractor, for a nap, and her face has been on every floor in my house, if only momentarily forgotten. On the way out of the house for one of the errands, Troll Baby insisted I button her coat like I buttoned his sweater. My heart must have melted 100 times today.

So maybe one day, Troll Baby will be a good father, a wonderful nurse, a ballet dancer.... or maybe he will end up on Oprah's stage proclaiming his love for men. As long as he's happy.

Tomorrow I'm going to paint his nails and teach him to sing "If I could turn back time." Oh and Jazz Hands!

Turning over a New Leaf

2006-04-16T09:15:00.000-04:00

I signed up for this today. It's free. It has meal planning, exercise goals, water intake goals, and even sleep goals! I start today. Right now. Off for my walk!
I could be at my ideal weight by November! How exciting is that?

2006-04-13T17:51:00.000-04:00

One More Thing Before I Go

2006-04-13T10:36:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to get Thomas to repeat, "Mommy's pretty." (Hey, I have a blog, and I'm self-absorbed, just like you.)

All he keeps saying is what his father says: "Mommy's Titty."

Chocolate Craving

2006-04-13T10:29:00.000-04:00

Why did I have to come across this today? PMS is taking over. I'm off to the grocery store for CHOCOLATE!

Story at 11

2006-04-12T19:56:00.000-04:00

The day started normally. Coffee, sippy cups, diaper changes, etc. I got a call after lunch from my girlfriend Cindy, asking me if I could do an interview for the local news channel, regarding the hydro increase here in Ontario.

I was hesitant at first, considering my hair was a freaking disaster and I hadn't bothered to curl it. Well it's naturally curly, but I have to do stuff to it to make it look great for t.v.

Turned out the news crew was to arrive within an hour. OH MY GOD.

Since Troll Baby had just gone down for his nap, I turned into Mama tornado, slapping on a face and brushing my hair to acceptable standards. I lit a caramel apple candle that I had bought from Mystickal Incense downstairs in case the house smelled like anything toddler-ish or Ruffy-ish.

Then I looked around the house. Yikes! The dishwasher was full of clean dishes and there were only a few in the sink from breakfast, so I threw those in the oven, (ha!) and wiped the counters.

Running like a freak through my house, I managed to gather the 8 tonnes of clutter and shove it into various cupboards, and the basement. I was sweating by the time I had finished.

Then I grabbed the duster. You know the feathery kind? Well I was working on the entertainment centre, then I noticed the windows were a little cobwebby, so I started in on those. All of a sudden the duster was on fire from me reaching behind the speakers and it had accidently caught flame. FUCK!

Thank goodness my laundry room is right off the family room. I ran the flaming duster into the laundry sink and flipped the water on. Oh the smoke! It was like lighting Froo Froo Ms. J. Alexander on fire! Just as I cleaned up the mess, the doorbell rang.

It was World Vision. I lied and said I already sponsored a kid. I'm SO going to hell. Then of course they want to know all about him. Dear God. I made up his name: Farai Nyamhunduras from Zimbabwe. I can think quick, but not quick enough, according to my flaming Miss J.

The news crew arrived 5 minutes later and guess who woke up right when they came in? Oh yeah. And he was in a NASTY mood. Clingy, crying, snotting all over the place, Troll Baby lived up to his nickname. Ya'll woulda been proud.

The reporter, Jennifer, gets a call and takes it upstairs while Mike, the cameraman, tries to make nice with Troll Baby and engage him in toys. His nose just keeps running and every time Mike speaks to him, he cries more. Oh for God's Sake. I clean him up as best I can and they request some natural shots of me using electricity. Well I had already queued up a couple of graphics I made, and my graphics site. Troll Baby wanted none of this as he squirmed, cried and snotted on my lap.

"Just do whatever you normally do," Mike said.

You mean wrap my son in duct tape and hope it holds?

So I pull up the Daniel Cook website and Troll Baby is slightly amused for about 4 minutes. Mike gets several different angle shots and by this time, Dylan is due home from school, so Jennifer, and I sit on the couch, side by side, with Thomas on my lap, still whiney and nose dripping. I make the executive decision that my child cannot be seen on t.v. with a snotty nose and I clean it up WITH MY HAND, wiping it on the back of his shirt. Good God. This is nightmarish. I repeated this horrid action at least 8 times during the interview, but of course, not on camera. I need a shower by this time.

Dylan arrives home, shouting from upstairs, "Why is A-Channel here?"

Jennifer invites him to join the shot, sitting between us. Troll Baby is STILL being Troll Baby. It's been 30 minutes since he woke up, he should be snapping out of it. NOT TODAY ZURG.

We took about 10 takes of the same questions - Troll Baby kept crying and crying and crying. Finally we get enough footage they can use and they need to have Jennifer stand by a lightswitch to do her intro and exit of the story. She stands at the bottom of the stairs in the family room and says, "How about here?"

"You can't do it there! That hallway isn't painted yet!"

I am
SO.
FREAKING.
NEUROTIC.

I tell her she can use the kitchen. "It's clean up there, I threw the dirty dishes in the oven." (I've wiped snot with my bare hands, we are like, so tight now.)

Well just before I think I'm off the hook, Jennifer says, "Did we get that one line about changes your family will have to make?"

I didn't know, so we needed to shoot one last line before they go. Okay, Troll Baby is BAWLING in my arms at this point and these people probably think I'm insane. I KNOW I have snot on my black sweater. From the neck up Mike, from the neck up. Please.

I ask Troll Baby if he wants a popsicle, and Dylan chimes up, "I want one! I want one too!"

So thank the popsicle gods there are TWO left. I put Troll Baby in the high chair and he is having no part of this either. Finally, the last resort card is played, and I tell Dylan to follow me. I put Troll Baby in his crib with a popsicle and tell Dylan to stay with him and amuse His Majesty.

Coming down the stairs, I say, "Mother of the year!"

Jennifer laughs (probably thinking how great this interview will be for birth control) and we get the last shot.

"If you get time, Google Troll Baby and you'll see why I'm this insane," I said.

They laughed and RAN out the door.

I don't really blame them.

But I looked really good on t.v.!!!!!

My Mother-In-Law Is Good For My Glands

2006-04-11T22:41:00.000-04:00

My mother-in-law and I have always got along well. She is hysterically funny, without even trying to be. I asked her to drive Dylan and I to Karate tonight and left Troll Baby at home with ~~a bottle of gin and instructions to only play his Lynard Skynard album for the first few songs before hitting the crib~~ a reputable sitter and since Daren got home in time, he came with us too. Yay!

I don't think I've told you about my mother-in-law's love for gossip and people watching before. In fact, I've avoided blogging about her, because I just don't know if it's okay with her. Well tonight has to be the exception because she cracked me up and it was so difficult not to blog this shit. So if she's mad about being blogged about, there's always the delete button. Mom, you crack my shit up, so I hope you are okay with this!

We arrive at Karate and the parent section is PACKED. The first women we see is working on some craft that kinda looks like weaving human hair. It was as if she had cleaned out a few hairbrushes and she was sewing the collection of hair into a sponge thing. I turn around to see my mother-in-law's face and she's sneering and staring at this chick. "Some of the mom's do crafts while they are waiting," I offer.

"Ewwwww..." she replies. My dear mother-in-law is not crafty. She doesn't like to cook, knit, bake, do cross-stitch, OR weave human hair. She is simply not the type. When we talk about it, she worries that she won't be a normal grandmother to the boys because of this, but honestly, the boys could care less about that shit anyway. They know what grandma likes to do, and that is SHOP and TRAVEL. Shopping and travel can be good for boys, they'll get stuff and go places, you know?

Anyway, we inch our way in and the only place to stand is in front of the human hair craft fairy, so we stand there. I know what mother-in-law is thinking. She is feeling the itch of hair on the back of her legs, through her dress pants and winter jacket, which, by the way, she is wearing despite it being 15 degrees Celcuis (that's about 60 Farenheit, my American friends). See, in-laws just got back from Mexico and with all the flu going around, said winter jacket is protecting her from all things pukey. Wish I had a jacket like that, in light of recent events.

I can feel my mother-in-law's gaze do the John Travolta arm sweep across the room, as she studies the parents and their kids. The kids are all ages and I hate to say this, but 80% of them are NERDY. I know this is what she is thinking and she keeps looking at me, talking with her eyes.

Since the previous class hadn't let out, there are double the number of parents and I offer to wait outside with her, because I KNOW she is itching to say something. She can't contain herself, and I'm trying my best not to lose it. Her facial expressions are fucking hilarious. She looks like she smelled father-in-law's Dutch Oven after a night of draft beer.

We go outside and I tell her we shouldn't stand near the door. She saunters toward the end of the building, digging for her cigarettes as a parent attempts to back his car out. He backs a little, breaks, backs out a little more, breaks, and since we're a couple of yakky birds, I neglect to tell her she is sauntering in his path for about 30 seconds. He is frustrated and I finally clue in and tell her to bust a move. She laughs at herself and scurries over.

She can't hold it in any longer.

"These kids are NERDS."

We both burst out laughing.

Did I tell you her voice is audible from a mile away? Yeah. I realize there are parents coming out, so I shh her and she whispers it again. I giggle. "Well maybe they need to be here. They're getting plowed at school."

"I guuuueesss."

We stood there giggling like schoolgirls, but the conclusion is that Dylan can't ever be a nerd since he's one of ours. Our people aren't nerds. Well, except for me. Ha.

Once we finish our cigarettes, we go back in, and the other class lets out. In walk two really tall and lanky, awkward boys, carrying sticks with handles (hey, I don't know what they are, we're only in week two here).

"Oh God." she mutters.

I try desperately not to laugh. She whispers to me, "What are they carrying?"

Daren pipes up quietly, "those are the ancient Chinese batons, called Bok Choy."

Usually he can trick her, but mother-in-law is up on her veggie trivia and smirks at him. "Yeah right! That's a vegetable Daren!"

I beg her to let me ask the nerd-boys, but she says, "No because then they will talk to us."

My stomach is killing me at this point, from holding back all the laughter. People keep looking at us.

Near the end of the class, in walk a set of parents from the previous week, who are loud, obnoxious, and UBER-NERDY.* Their son is cute, but skinny as a rail. If this kid grows some muscles, and fills out, he will break hearts. We can see that right away. He has stellar eyes, and wicked hair. I was slightly jealous, though I could see human hair craft fairy eyeing him up for her next project.

The banter between these parents, the secretary and a few other parents is UNREAL. It's borderline Grade 3. Sad that this kid who might become gorgeous will inherit his parents ridiculous sarcasm. Hey I love sarcasm, but joking about your sex life in your kid's Karate Dojo isn't cool. Lock it up, people.

Mother-in-law is BURSTING by the time Dylan gets out of his class. It's noisy, so she starts in on everyone with me. "Did you see that man? Look at that woman's jaw. Did you hear what that lady said? GOD."

I shhh her again, since her voice carries and the lady sitting behind her is staring (though she can't see it). I have to face these nerd people next week.

She giggles all the way home in the car, careful not to actually say anything in front of Dylan, and I offer to help her find Nine West Shoes on eBay when we get home.

Her birthday is coming up, so when she spotted a Nine West purse she liked, I bought it for her. When it comes, I'm going to stuff it with Bok Choy before I wrap it. I love that she picked out her own present. I never have any good ideas anyway. I mean, how many pictures of my spawn does she need on her walls? Of course, she was thrilled. I figured it was a good price for watching her gossip glands swell all evening. What a hoot!

*This is the ONLY time it's okay to use Uber. Uber is like, SO 1997.

Is it Just Me?

2006-04-10T23:27:00.000-04:00

Or is this really creepy?

Mommybloggers: The Rules of Engagment

2006-04-10T20:06:00.000-04:00

1. Talk about poop, no less than once a week. Post pictures if need be. Need never be, but it's your blog, after all.

2. Call your children code names, like Scooter and Bean. Then forget what you've called them and confuse your readers. It's more fun for them that way.

3. Declare that you either drink, or don't drink. No wavering. Drinkers: blog about your drinking stories, then never publish them out of fear of being called a bad mother for going on weekly benders. Oh wait - that is just me. Non-drinkers: you'd better have something else to offer.

4. Sport a fat ass. Blog about weight. If you can't keep a fat ass, eat until you have cankles. Trust me, people around here LOVE cankles. It's ridiculous. 5 hits a day lately. Crazy fuckers.

5. Gush about your husband at least once a month. He reads your blog. He just doesn't tell you. Have a vase ready for the day after you think he might have read your blog, cuz you are gettin' foliage baby! Or laid. Whatever.

6. Take pictures at weird angles or up really close - like nose hairs are showing close - and call yourself a photographer. All the cool kids are doing it.

7. Risky mommybloggers are blogging about sex. Though this would be an interesting topic of choice for me, I can't. My family and my husband's family read this crap and they really don't need to know. I applaud the mommysexbloggers. Hey, we're Moms, we're not dead.

8. Make lame excuses for why you won't blog about certain subjects.

9. Skip enriching activities with your children to blog, blog surf, and increase traffic to your blog by commenting on every blog you encounter. Your kids can learn everything they need to know from television. Just ask Elmo.

10. Be yourself. You aren't perfect, and neither is anyone else. Least of all your fellow mommybloggers. They all sit at their screens in their jammies, cross-legged, reading your life, with peanut butter on their left tit and Baby Num-Num Cookie stuck to their shoulder.* They all eat too much chocolate, yell at their kids, and find solace and intelligent discussion online.

P.S. There are no rules, except for #10.

This post was inspired by Madbull, and is brought to you by the letters Gin and Tonic.

**That is how I'm dressed. If ya'll aren't dressed like this, then don't tell me. I wouldn't be able to take it.

On a side note - I ordered a cool Responsibility Chart thing - it's made of wood and it's magnetic. Dylan should get it soon and it looks WAY COOL. It's under the Melissa & Doug link here. I know duct tape and a paddle would be cheaper than the $20 I sprung for this thing, but me thinks I'll get better results from this novelty.

Breaking Cycles and Broken Records

2006-04-10T09:36:00.000-04:00

My oldest, the Good Child, has been a bit of a hassle lately. He is approaching 7 and a half years old, otherwise known as the age in which questioning everything drives Mommy and Daddy nuts. I honestly don't mind that he questions me, I want him to grow up to question everything, to make decisions based on knowledge, not what people tell him to do. As a child, I absolutely always did as I was told, out of fear. I have never raised my children with fear, and I don't plan on starting now.

Every night lately, bedtime has been a problem. Daylight savings time sucks monkey ass, although Troll Baby has done well and slept later than usual in the last week. Yay!

Last night:

Tactic #1: Good Child insists he can't be going to bed while it's still light, he won't be able to fall asleep! I reasoned with him that he who sleeps with the bathroom light on, can certainly fall asleep with the sun setting.

"Go back to bed Dylan."

Tactic #2: Crying.

"Go back to bed Dylan. You're going to wake your brother."

Tactic #3: Crying, asking what the date is.

"April 10th. Go back to bed Dylan."

"BUT I HAVE NOTHING ON MY READING LOG!"

"Well you certainly aren't going to get caught up now. Go back to bed Dylan."

Tactic #4: I'm hungry.

"You just finished a plate of pancakes not too long ago, so you aren't hungry. Go back to bed Dylan."

Tactic #5: What happens to me if you and Daddy die?

"We've talked about this at length. You know the answers to this. Go back to bed Dylan."

God, I sound like a broken record. I hate that part of parenting, the nagging, the repeating of near everything. Sometimes I hate the sound of my own voice!

Crying again, "I DON'T WANNA BE AN ORPHAN!"

Goes back to bed, sobbing loudly.

Enter Troll Baby - woken up and crying.

I go upstairs to both Dylan and Thomas BAWLING. EXCELLENT.

"You've woken your brother up Dylan. Now Mommy is angry. What is your problem tonight?"

"My head is pounding!"

"Well Mister, if you weren't crying for the last hour over nothing, your head wouldn't hurt! Go to sleep already! One more peep and you're grounded from screens tomorrow."

(Sometimes I hate being the heavy. Really I do. I try not to yell, but when I do, all I can think of is my mother. God.)

I go into Troll Baby's room and assure him it's okay, and to lie down. As I'm covering him up, he says, "Dinnin, kyyyy..."

"Yes Dylan is crying hunny but he's okay. Go to sleep baby."

He pulls his blanket over his shoulders and closes his eyes.

I return to Dylan's room and he has settled, though quietly sobbing. I pat his head and kiss him.

"I love you kiddo, and because I love you, it's my job to make sure you get enough sleep. So please calm down and let yourself think about good things, like Mommy and Daddy hugs. G'night Baby. I love you."

"Mom?"

"Yes Dylan..."

"I love you too."

Now that I don't mind saying (and hearing) a bazillion times. The broken record of "I love you's" is on repeat around here. Thank goodness.

Delight

2006-04-10T07:49:00.000-04:00

It's 7 p.m.

The boys are in their jammies after fooling around at the dinner table, a mere hour before.
The key turns in the lock of the front door.

"Daddy's Home!"

Shrieks of joy as they pad up the stairs.

Verbal diarrhea from the oldest. Stories about Ancient China on hand drawn pages with many colours.

The little one scrambles into Daddy's arms, finding a spot in his neck to snuggle into.

Daddy barely able to put down his lunchbag and tools for the fray of little arms, legs and voices are upon him.

Smiles. Delight.

Theme courtesy of Mama Says Om.

New Mama

2006-04-09T00:22:00.000-04:00

Daren has Fridays off during the spring, summer and fall and it always throws me off. He let me sleep in after working the night before and he got Dylan off to school without a hitch. Without a quarter for the bake sale too, but no matter, Dylan's teacher rocks and she always has extra quarters for the kids who's parents forget. She deserves a big tip for being so awesome.

So once The Man made Troll Baby, himself and I an awesome breakfast of eggs and mini honey and garlic sausages, we took off to run errands. We headed to the Sears Outlet store (a department store outlet for you American-O's) in search of curtain rods for the new family room. I bought curtains weeks ago and they sit, awaiting roddage.

When we finally arrive, I have to use the facilities, so I tell Daren to go grunt with the other men in the electronics department and I'll take Troll Baby with me. Toddling on at a snail's pace, Thomas and I make our way to the bathrooms, but not without Troll Baby noticing one lonely Elmo on a display. Clearly out of place, Troll Baby takes pity on Elmo and starts yelling, "Elmo! Elmo!" Having not seen the little ~~bugger~~ gaffer, I say to Troll Baby, "Where do you see Elmo?" He leads me back to Elmo, who is sitting on a stack of Barbies with a stupid grin on his face.

"Elmo needs to go to the doctor," the toy screams at 150 decibels, "Can you take Elmo's temperature?" Thinking rectal, I grab some Elmo ass, and he bursts into song about how much fun the doctor is. Sure Elmo, you'll never experience the joy of the pap-smear. What an asshole he is.

Troll Baby is grinning ear to ear and I know we aren't leaving this store without Pap-Smear-Me-Elmo.

Okay fine, but I still have to pee. I tell Troll Baby to leave Elmo on the shelf, that Mommy has to pee and we will come back for Elmo. Seeing the joy on my baby's face was enough to convince me that we would indeed be buying this $21 toy. Hoo-frikking-ray.

So on our way back to Sugar-Daddy, we have to gather up Elmo. Troll Baby won't let me carry the box, so he struggles with it all the way back to electronics, where Daren is drooling over sale prices on everything with buttons.

"What the hell is that?" he demands.

"It's Elmo goes to the doctor Elmo," I say, "Just try taking him away."

It took us 10 minutes to get to the front of the store and Troll Baby screams as the cashier removes Elmo from his death-grip to enter the numbers on the tag. Being the outlet store, they don't scan in milliseconds here - it's MANUAL. Imagine!

We toddle back to the car with Troll Baby clutching the Elmo box like cows would stop producing milk if he let go. Daren grabs the box to untie Elmo from the 40 billion zip straps that are handcuffing him to his box as I sweep Troll Baby into the car. Troll Baby screams though he has the ring of fire that comes with crowning during labour and continues while Daren struggles with plastic and cardboard.

I finally hand Elmo over to his new Mama and Troll Baby hugs him for the 30 minute ride home. I turn around during the ride as Daren asks me, "What did we just teach our son?"

Troll Baby beams from his carseat, hugging him harder.

Once we get home, I feed Troll Baby his lunch. Elmo sits on the dinner table, big white googly eyes staring at the ceiling. I go to put Troll Baby down for his nap and realize that if Elmo goes to bed with him, he could roll on him before naptime is over and Elmo would wake him up. We make Elmo a makeshift bed, all tucked in on the change table and as I close the door to leave, I hear, "Love You Elmo."

Stupid Little Bitch.

2006-04-06T22:57:00.000-04:00

Three words that still have an effect on me, though not as much as they once did. My mother used to call me that. Stupid Little Bitch. With such hate in her eyes, I thought she wanted me dead. I'm sure at times, she did. My mother cannot be summed up in one blog entry. Often I've been told I should write a book. Well that hasn't happened yet, probably because I'm not ready to face the demon herself -- again.

I've been asked to review this book. I know it's going to cause me to reflect on myself, my childhood, and it will likely bring back memories I'm not sure I'm ready for. The biggest obstacle I face is that my own mother was the child in a similar story and I was the parent. Holding her hair back while she purged a drinking binge, making my younger brother's breakfast and lunch when I was only a baby myself, I often wished I had a normal child's life. I know there are adults that have been through worse. I know there are children who live through worse now.

Truth is, I wouldn't change it if I could. I am a wonderful mother. My kids reflect my heart on a daily basis and my life is amazing and happy now. People who don't know me, often assume I had a well-adjusted upbringing and when I was sent to a psychiatrist for panic attacks about 10 years ago, the doctor listened to me recant my story and told me I've obviously dealt with what has unfolded in my life, and made the best life anyone could -- anyone from any upbringing.

I look at mother/daughter relationships differently than most people though. While pregnant with both of the boys, I wished as hard I could for sons. I was terrified of having a daughter and repeating history. I confided in friends and family about this and each and every confidante assured me that I would be a great mother to a daughter. That I wouldn't repeat my mother's mistakes. I guess I'll never know.

For my entire life, up until I was 7 weeks pregnant with Thomas, those 3 little words rang in my head at the thought of my childhood. My mother, a drunk, screaming banshee, would utter these words, baring her teeth as she slurred. She hated me, or so I believed. Now, at 31, I know she never liked herself. She hated who she was. She had very little, if any, self-esteem and she projected her insecurities onto others. No one in our family spoke to her, she had alienated herself from everyone. She didn't get along with other women. Every woman she encountered was a "bitch," or a "slut." Any girlfriends I had while growing up weren't safe from these harsh words and as such, I avoided bringing friends home to her.

Men floated in and out of our tiny apartment and us kids were subjected to the naked creeps, as we snuck past the livingroom (my mother slept in the sofa bed) to get our cereal on Saturday mornings. My mother was beautiful on the outside, but the men never stayed longer than the time it took to piss her off. She married 3 times, and divorced just as many.

So what changed at 7 weeks pregnant with Thomas? My mother had moved to our city in the previous year, bunking with us for a month before she found her own apartment. (Don't ask me how Daren and I didn't boot her out within a week) Pretty soon after that, she found a boyfriend. Boyfriend was nouveau riche, and he had a young daughter. Dear daughter was sweet. A slightly overweight child, she had lost her mother to serious illness, and malpractice. So the story goes. Over the time my mother dated this fool, she abused the daughter and bragged about it to me as though she was doing this girl a favour. Mom bragged about her use of portion control, keeping the daughter in lock-down, and snippets of physical abuse came to the surface as she explaned all the things she was doing to help the girl lose weight. The young girl was not allowed in the kitchen. My mother would allot her portion onto a plate and the child was to leave the empty plate at the top of the stairs to be collected, and return to her room.

Shocked to hear the treatment of this child, and remembering the childhood I had dealt with, I could not sleep. I knew I had to do something before this girl suffered any more. I wrote a detailed letter to Children's Aid, as did friends of the family, and this young life was spared any more wrongdoing at the hands of my mother, the monster. She was removed from the home, and my mother and her idiot boyfriend were soon hiring lawyers and going to court to win the daughter back. My mother wanted nothing to do with the little girl, and probably hated her as she did me, and herself, but they fought anyway because there was malpractice money to be had. Daddy had burned through his money, spending it on Hungry Man dinners and bike parts I'm sure, and the little girl won't ever have to work a day in her life. This might be a good thing, since she will need the time to go through therapy. Further details of her case came out once the house was sold and evidence of other abuse came to light. I do hope, that now two years later, she has made progress and is happy. Her case worker promises to divulge my information should her young client ask for it, and if it is the right time. I hope she knows she isn't alone.

I don't feel the least bit guilty over reporting her. My mother has never given me anything but life, and grief. She will never again sting me with her toxic words. Not only that, no child should suffer the way this poor child was. I had to say something.

So for me to be reviewing this book, says alot. I guess I'm going to have to once again, put on a brave face, to swallow what's been dealt. My first response to the request was no. I had written the email to decline, and saved it. I had serious doubts I would be able to do this. It bothered me that my own mother would have written me off, had I succumb to drug abuse. There never was a mother's love in my life, except for the one I feel for my boys. I'm a little jealous of the daughter in this story, yet I feel drawn to it and maybe it's time. So I'm going to do it.

Besides, I never was a stupid little bitch, and I sure as hell am not one now.

I'm in a mood

2006-04-05T10:11:00.000-04:00

Despite Old Man Winter bearing down on us two nights ago, (Hello? It's April, so get lost already, you old fart!), despite everyone getting the flu in my house in the last two weeks, and despite Troll Baby going through a clingy stage, ( he is on my lap right now!) I am in an incredibly good mood. Why? Well for the last two years, Daren and I haven't had a dresser. When Troll Baby was born, I gave Dylan our dresser, and Troll Baby got Dylan's. So for two years, we've stuffed our clothes on the top shelf of our horribly small closet and on hangers, and had to box up off-season stuff and store it. We have more clothes than Jessica Simpson (between us, anyway), and this has made our room a frigging disaster. There are piles of clothes beside our bed, on the floor, collecting dog hair and probably considering weaving their own dresser. Blech. I know, so classy.

Well on Tuesday, there was finally a purchase made. Catching Daren in a weak flu-ey moment, I asked him if it would be alright to go pick up the dresser we saw at a furniture store. He mumbled a yes, and that was all I needed. I packed Troll Baby into the car and off we went. We get to the store and they are sold out of the dresser. Damn. I ask them to phone the location 40 minutes away and see if they have any. The 7 drawer dressers? Yes! Well I wasn't sure that the dresser I had my eye on was 7 drawers, but we made the trek anyway. I picked up a girlfriend of mine on the way for added fun. Oh who am I kidding? She has big muscles and makes me laugh 'till I pee.

We arrive at the store and the 7 drawer dressers are there - many of them. They aren't the one I wanted. Damn. They are taller, skinner, but have more drawers then the one I remembered, so 3 seconds later, I say, "I'll take two." I know I might have to pay for this with Daren, but feminine wiles are my specialty and order must be brought to the bedroom. In some ways, anyway.

I pay for these suckers and realize they might not fit in the car. The burly carry-out dudes are not impressed as they look at the size of my trunk and shake their heads.

"What if I take them out of the box?" I ask.

"Ma'am, there are just too many parts."

"Leave the cart boys - sometimes you have to think outside the box. I'll bring it back when I'm done."

The Burly Backstreet Boys (okay, total oxymoron) shake their heads and go back into the store, probably laughing to each other about stupid women and their stupid ideas. Well boys, I didn't have to waste another hour coming back for both dressers, now did I?

So my girlfriend and I, fighting wind and cold, unwrap the 40,678 parts and get every last piece into the car, being careful not to scratch anything, nor lose the directions. By the time we're nearly done, Troll Baby throws a fit, and I don't have any of his ~~crack cocaine~~ milk, so my girlfriend gives him a Wagon Wheel. Babies should COME with a case of these! He gobbled it down and was so happy from the sugar high for the trip home. I treat her to Subway for all her help and after lunch, she was kind enough to help me unload everything while Troll Baby drifted off to sleep for the afternoon.

Daren manages not to hear any of the ruckus until we have everything in the house and once I get him settled again with some juice, I get the tools I need and read the directions. Oy. I used to work for a major office supply store and I know how to build this crap, but I know it will take me some time. As in 4 days.

Through the miracle of juice, Daren becomes coherent and comes up to help. As he headed up the stairs, I prayed silently that he would actually help, and not just sit on the couch and dictate. Thank goodness he helped! Building 14 drawers and the frames for these suckers would have been no fun alone. We spent the afternoon working away and bantering back and forth, flirting as we always do, and by the end of Troll Baby's nap, we were 90% done. Daren finished up while I started dinner and got Dylan off to his first Karate class.

My good mood continues today as I can put my house back together after the flu tornado hit it over the last 2 weeks, and I can finally make our bedroom look like grown-up's bedrooms should. There's something about a clean house that makes me feel better. I have a billion things to do for clients today as well (sorry, dear fantastic clients!), and we need groceries or we'll be eating frost off the sides of the freezer, with a side dish of toaster crumbs and coffee grounds. Yum!

What in the Spam Hell?

2006-04-05T08:12:00.000-04:00

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Constipation ignorant the struck, indeed.

Would you like a paternity test with your cell phone plan?

2006-04-03T21:59:00.000-04:00

So Daren came home from work this afternoon, about 4 hours before he was due home. Strange, but sometimes he gets off early and heads upstairs for his daily, uh, flush.

ANYWAY, after about 15 minutes, I finally went up to find him in bed. In bed? This is the man who, in the 10 years we have been dating, has missed ONE DAY of work, only because he had separated his shoulder at hockey and was too drugged on Tylenol 3's to drive himself there. I don't know anyone else with this kind of track record.

With the kids in tow, I snuck into our dark bedroom and asked him what was wrong.

"Sick," he grunted.

"Oh nooooo. Flu?"

"I pulled over on the way home and threw up."

OH. MY. GOD. MY Daren? Okay, well we can deal. I ask him if he wants anything and he says no, so I tell him I'll take the kids out for dinner so the house can be quiet and he can rest. The only request I managed out of him was ginger ale. This man hardly ever takes pills, so Gravol was not on the horizon, in his mind.

I scoop the kids up, throwing a fresh pair of socks at Dylan (who INSISTS on taking off his socks as soon as he gets home from school every day - what is with that?), and we head out. I decide to hit the mall, because at least we can each eat what we want at the food court and I can upgrade our cell phone to something we can actually hear out of. A novel concept, I know.

Well Troll Baby is screaming all the way to the mall. THE ENTIRE 5 MINUTES. God forbid that I ever take these kids on a road trip. (I have, actually, alone, and 3 hours away to see family - more evidence towards my insanity, I'm sure.) I go to park the car in a spot fairly close to the door, and normally I don't mind walking, but it's raining and windy, and I know I have to strap the little badger into his stroller, so you know. Well this bitch takes the spot right in front of me.

Nice.

Breathe.....

I find another spot quickly and get the kids into the mall. Thomas loves his stroller as much as he loves his car seat - about as much as I love plucking my eyebrows. (When IS that Brooke Sheilds look going to come back already?) We both cry at these things. He fights the strap, squirming like frying bacon, and screams all the way through the mall, to the bank machine, where I have to deposit our tax return cheque (sweet!). Well of course Dylan wants to push the buttons at the machine and gives me a hard time when I won't fork over my PIN number. For the last 4 nights, he has had these weird and upsetting talks to me about death and wants to know what will happen to him when Daddy and I die. I mentioned life insurance and I swear that is all he can remember from the conversation. My 7 year old miser. Look out King Midas.

We manage to deafen every bank patron with the Troll Baby Car Alarm, and make our way to the food court. We all get what we want, and Thomas sits on my lap and devours everything within arms reach, including the laminate on the table. I only wanted a root beer, because the mere mention of puke throws my stomach into a whirling dervish. Besides, with last weeks puke fest, and this weeks imminent rerun, you can guarantee this mama is going to shed another 5 pounds. This whole flu crap is doing wonders for my bathing suit shopping, which in itself, makes me sick anyway.

During dinner, if you could call it that, there were several children in the food court acting like zoo animals. One little boy was climbing OVER the steel wall into the Dairy Queen kiosk, and a brother and sister came narrowly close to smashing into Thomas and I, as they fought over a comic book. Remind me to train Troll Baby to kill! kill! Or at least gnaw off the arms of grade-schoolers with a decibel range higher than 70 and negotiation skills of wasps. Dylan turned to me at one point and said, "Let me say this about the mall. Parent supervision needed."

Root beer out your nose? It hurts.

Once the savages are finished their feast, we headed to the phone store. We had a nifty $200 credit toward a new phone and I'd already spent Troll Baby's nap on the phone with customer service and I knew the phone and the plan I wanted. I wanted to get a gander at it before getting salespersoned to death, so I walk over to where the cell phone display is and Troll Baby continues his best Mariah Carey Someday. Yay.

Ricki Lake comes over to help us. No, not that Ricki Lake, this Ricki Lake (spelled the SAME way) is a small man. Shorter than me. He asks me what I'm looking for, and I quickly tell him that I'd already arranged everything with customer service at the phone company and about my credit, etc. He shuffles some papers in his hand and says, "Karen Rani?"

"You know about me already?" I was taken aback that the phone company knew which store I would shop at. I mean, there are several locations, and wow. A little too Big Brother for me.

"Oh yes, and you wanted this phone. It's a great phone." He starts to rattle off features while Troll Baby squirms, turns himself inside out and eats 40 cell phone car chargers. In one bite. I know I'm on a time limit and I'm even typing this faster just to get it over with again.

For the next ~~42 hours~~ 15 minutes, Ricki Lake talks about the phone, the plan, the agreement, the features, the add-ons, the options, his mother, his plantar warts and GOD KNOWS WHAT-THE-FUCK ELSE SHUT UP I WANT TO LEAVE WITH MY SCREAMING TODDLER.

Then, suddenly, silence.

I look over and the saleswoman-who-must-also-be-known-as-Mom, has turned on Treehouse TV. Ricki Lake has T minus 40 seconds before I KNOW things will get hairy again. He tries to reiterate all the shit he just told me. I stop him quickly and say, "I'm a Mom, and I not only heard everything you said, but I've signed the agreement, returned your pen and you have mere seconds to throw the $15 fee on my debit card, so I can leave with my spawn. Do it."

Of course, Ricki Lake is slow on the uptake (hey that rhymes), and takes FOREVER to swipe the card, pull out the phone, activate that sucker and pack it back up. Troll Baby resumes his witching hour and no amount of Toopy and Binoo will save us.

We finally high tail it outta there, and as I'm staring at the idiot board, trying to figure out where our mall exit is, Ricki Lake comes running after me. "You forgot your new phone!"

Shit. And I was so sure I looked so incredibly confident and capable in the store.

Hey Duuuuude!

2006-04-03T10:30:00.000-04:00

(click the pic to play this short piece of cutey cuteness)

Sounds like someone wants to be a preacher, the way he says Duuude-ah. Praise the Lord-ah, as we have successfully beaten the flu-ah. We went through much Kleenex and sinus meds-ah, this weekend. Though this has made for a new habit-ah. He hath clingth much and this makes for difficulty in getting anything done-ah. The tears, they doth flow. Let's hope, this too, shall pass. Having a toddler stuck to your chest while you are feeling sick, is not fun.

They're Here!

2006-03-31T15:39:00.000-05:00

C'mon, you have to admit this blogging world is pretty nerdy. But in a good way. Show off your own nerdiness, the pride you feel for the nerd you love, or the happiness you get from being nerdy with your young'uns.

Troll Baby: Talk Nerdy to Me

Perfect Post: March, Meat and Much Laughter

2006-03-31T11:02:00.000-05:00

Here's my Perfect Post for March. I laughed so hard at this, I snorted. Much snorting.

Sassy's post about her ~~fantastic cooking ability~~ shitty ass kitchen skills speaks for itself. I love her, but I won't eat her food. No way in hell.

Thanks once again to Lucinda and Momma K for the inspiration and the chance to recognize other bloggers. You can click their links to read more Perfect Posts for March, or to find out how you can participate.

I Feel Guilt. Pantloads of it. Sorta.

2006-03-30T23:50:00.000-05:00

I did something today. This slightly selfish act was destructive to our environment, our lovely world that we are supposed to take care of. So for that reason, I feel slightly kinda sorta guilty.

There were reasons. This thing was creating havoc in my backyard every season. The local schoolchildren put themselves in harm's way by standing on my shitty chain link and nearly killing themselves to get to temptation. Through my pregnancy with Thomas, I secretly wanted to sit quietly with the hose and knock the little fuckers off my fence as a fuckyouverymuch for stealing from my yard.

This thing made a mess. Every year after it was done dropping it's load, I would have to walk all over the yard and pick up it's soggy bombs. Neighbours offered to jar the load. Ha. No way would I eat that shit, especially after all those bratty kids have been touching the load.

This thing attracted my 3rd least favorite insect: bees. 1st and 2nd are earwigs and ladybugs , respectively. Yes, earwigs are an obvious bug to hate, but ladybugs? Well there's a new breed of ladybugs here and they stink, take over the house and they bite. Just ask my left tit, which shrivels up during every shower ever since it happened to her last summer. Ladybugs are no longer ladies. They are nasty bitches. Bitter ex-wives, maybe.

Back to my guilt. By now you've got to know this thing is a fruit tree.

Well our stupidfuckingpeartree was cut down today. By me. I took great pleasure in cutting it's branches before lobbing off it's upper torso. The stupidfuckingpeartree got me back by making that heavy piece land on me, scratching my arms up really well. Other than being attacked by the stupidfuckingpeartree, it felt good. I was sweating. I was using a roll saw that rocked the Casbah. Dude. Have I told you I love tools? Oh yeah baby. Show me yer Black & Decker.

I thought, that upon Dylan's arrival home from school, I would be having to console him, wipe his tears and bribe him into breaking a smile with any form of sugar. Not so. At first, he was taken aback, but verbal diarrhea took over and I told him he could build his tree house, complete with ladder in one of our bigger trees. He started at the larger tree, put his hands on his hips and said, "Yeah....I see it now." Really kid? Cuz I don't. Your Dad is a horrible procrastinator. The Home Depot commercial? That's so fake. If you get a treehouse, I'll eat my underwear. I'm not saying your Dad can't build a treehouse, I'm sure he can. I'm just saying that the stupidfuckingpeartree has been on the honeydo list for 4 years. Hope your treehouse will be a cool hangout when you're 16 and you have to build it yourself. Oh and I hope the chicks dig it. Righteous.

Why You Too Should Cancel Cable - Our Challenge to YOU!

2006-03-30T07:46:00.000-05:00

This really made me think. I don't watch t.v during the day at all, usually because it's on to Treehouse T.V. which ends up being background noise to Troll Baby's playtime. At night, the only shows I care to watch are House, Medium, Survivor and ER. Could I do without them? Sure. I've approached Daren before about switching off our satellite for the summer, since we barely ever watch it, but he says no. I'm going to ~~approach~~ attack the family with a challenge, in which the t.v. stays off for 5 days. I'll bet we don't miss it. In fact, I'll bet we reap some of the same benefits as the author of Why You Too Should Cancel Cable.

This article reminded me of Cool Beans' T.V. Free Tuesday. Every week, her family leaves the t.v. off for one day, and they spend time together. Now what is more rewarding than that?

How much t.v. do you watch? Would you really miss it if it was off? What if you turned it off tonight when you went to bed, and didn't turn it back on until next Wednesday? What rewards would you get out of it? Board games with your kids? Going outside? Getting things done that you would normally put off for a t.v. show?

Anyone want to participate with us? Leave a comment below if you'd like to join the Troll Baby Family during our 5 day hiatus from t.v. I bet you'll be glad you did.

Don Cherry Would Be Saying, "These are Good Canadian Kids."

2006-03-29T22:38:00.000-05:00

Truly the calm after the storm. Our first nice-enough-to-play-outside day this year. It was so much fun to get out! Dylan tried to show Troll Baby how to play hockey while I took pictures. After that, 4 of Dylan's little friends came over, and we played "What Time Is It Mister Wolf?" with Troll Baby giggling and squealing in my arms as we ran away from the "wolf" several times. I order pizza for all 6 kids and they all sat around my table tonight, telling fart jokes, laughing, and trying to see who could be silent the longest. Thomas loved the entertainment of the kids, and once they had snarfed down all the pizza and cinni-sticks they could eat, they were out the door again to play hockey while I cleaned up and got the little gaffer to bed. Daren came and went again, from work to his own old-fart pick-up hockey game, and here I sit, happy as a pig in shit that the flu (or whatever the hell that was) is already gone from our home.

Blue

2006-03-29T09:01:00.000-05:00

View through my Yoga Mat. The subject is our friend's 18 month old son, Tanner.

Photo courtesy of 7 year old Dylan at Didgery Doo.
Theme courtesy of Mama Says Om.

Did I SAY the Carnage had Stopped?

2006-03-28T20:28:00.000-05:00

Well I spoke too soon. Troll Baby has the stomach bug too, on top of his respiratory infection, which was getting better. I hope my baby boy feels better soon. It broke my heart to see him crying over something I can't control. Dylan is MUCH better, and will be back at school tomorrow.

I haven't eaten in two days, simply out of fear. I would rather be sick for days than to throw up. Hands down, tossing my cookies is the worst possible thing for me. I'm thinking my body is currently in Mommy-fix-everything-mode and it will hit me when I "have time" to be sick. Ick.

So here I am, surviving on coffee, water and a bit of fruit. I'm SO going to lose weight. At least one good thing might come of this. Ha.

Speaking of losing weight, I've been following a blog, Morphing Into Mama and reader's reaction to her post, False Advertising, and her follow up to clarify. While I agree that spouses should be concerned with each other's health, and mental health, if my husband bawked at any physical change in me, whether it be weight, hair colour, hair length, whatever, I would be shocked. Fact is, he has loved me through all kinds of hair cuts, weights, everything. I've loved him through his hair receeding, through career changes, and weight fluctuations. Not only that, he, like most men, is no idiot. As much attention as this discussion has gotten, I have to say I'm amazed that it's even an issue. Marriages that can survive and thrive through crisis and tragedy can certainly survive and thrive through superficial changes. Gimmie a break.

Further to this ludicrous discussion, certain people have been bashing the author of this blog elsewhere, attacking her personality, her looks, and her parenting. What the fuck is wrong with people? Just because you don't agree with a blogger, doesn't mean you go around bashing her, in her comments and elsewhere. There is someone with feelings writing that blog, and if you wouldn't say horrible things, like she "has an ass like a Buick" to her in person, then why say it at all? Why all the hate?

It always floors me when people think they can get away with bashing someone online. To judge her entire being on this one opinion? C'mon. Again, I say, gimmie a break.

I hope MIM is as happy within herself, her marriage and her life, as I am. I also hope she takes those awful comments, etc, and flushes them down the toilet, as I would. What a bunch of hooey.

Hey, what can I say? I have an addictive personality.

2006-03-28T07:45:00.000-05:00

I know I said I'd see you in a couple of days, but the carnage has stopped and the Good Child is sipping Gatorade and loving the endless supply of popsicles and juice. His tummy still hurts, but at least he isn't in the bathroom still.

I hate the violence of the flu. I wish I could have taken it away instantly. Dylan, exhausted, fell asleep with a book over his head at 6:30 last night and slept through until 7 this morning. I heard tiny feet pad into my room and then his hand was on my arm. "I'm hungry," he said. Always a good sign. He wants to stick to liquids for now, and I know he needs them.

Troll Baby went to bed at 7, right before Daddy arrived from work, flowers in hand for a tired Mom. I hadn't eaten all day yesterday and had no desire to. I don't normally handle the kids when they are pukey - I normally can't, but seeing as I had to, I guess my body decided no food was necessary. Even this morning, there's no hunger. Just the usual longing for coffee and water. Maybe I will lose a few pounds. Thanks kids!

Well today will be calm I hope. I kind of enjoy the calm after the storm and hope to do some snuggling with my babies. Dylan would argue that he's not a baby anymore, and then I'll say, as I always do, "You'll be my baby long after you're taller than me."

My hands are raw from washing them, from bleach and soaps. I was just emerging from winter and starting to heal them of the exema, but yesterday through them back into water and that's just the way it goes.

I dreamt of my mother the other night and I can't get her out of my head. She arrived at my house, with jet black hair, begging forgiveness and I wanted nothing to do with her. Makes me question numbers 7 through 10 here, but then maybe it's my mind's way of saying you have to forgive her for this to move on. As there always is, there was a bit of humour glossing over the hurt, as she was valley-girl like and looked much like Joan Jett, which she did when we were kids (and Joan Jett was cool). I remember she would come to the apartment complex park to kiss us goodbye before heading to wherever, and my brother's friends would say how pretty she was. Looks aren't everything, boys. She's a screaming banshee when she's drunk and her nails are too long.

Well Troll Baby is waking up (wow! 8:00!) so I better run. Have a great day everyone, and make sure you visit my tenant, Jaded Sunburns. She's only here for another day or so and she is PFA. (Pretty Fucking Awesome)

See you in a couple of days....

2006-03-27T17:24:00.000-05:00

After avoiding it all winter, the Flu has officially arrived at our house. I'll spare you the details, except to say, it's Dylan now, not Thomas and I. Yet.

Monday sucks the big green weiner.

2006-03-27T07:54:00.000-05:00

Well it's Monday. Yeah, no shit sherlock. Brilliant deduction. I have a point. Stay with me here. Being Monday, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

Troll Baby and I are sick. We both have a lovely respiratory viral something-or-other and if it isn't that giving me a headache from coughing, it's his constant crying and lack of sleep. According to the doctor at Sick Kids, there is nothing you can do ma'am. I'm ready to rip my own head off. Or my lungs out. Or something. These are the days I wish I had a mother. You know with a real heart, not one made of cold, hard stone.

I was up late to get Dylan off to school, though we managed to rush through the early morning tasks and he got out the door in time. Talk about dizzy. Oy.

Top that off with my period arriving. Oh yeah. I'm so happy I could shit.

Lucinda at Suburban Turmoil was kind enough to sponsor me for Blog Ads, and if you want to place an ad....just clickity click on over there and do so!

Okay, I need to find a small tool off the vaccuum and stick it in my nostrils. I'm sure that'll provide relief.

The best part about typing this post? A squirmy, 3 foot snotbag on my lap. He keeps talking to me in the cutest little stuffy head voice. I love him to pieces and if I could take all our sickness onto myself, I would. Pray for a two nap day for me everyone!

Daddy's Day Off

2006-03-24T15:13:00.000-05:00

Troll Baby's new favorite thing? Sitting on my lap, lurching forward and back and making bleching noises. Nice.

For the Love of MUTT

2006-03-23T20:24:00.000-05:00

Four years ago, our only daughter was brought into this world by a purebred Keltie, and the sperm donor was a mutt black lab/german shepard/husky named Rocco.

Originally, we were just "going to look at a dog," (read: I tricked Daren into seeing the litter because I desperately wanted a dog and I knew he would say no forever unless he met her himself, thereby falling in Love with a captial L.) We loaded her into our car within the hour, carting her off to a Pet Shop to buy her paraphernalia and calling friends for recommendations for a good vet.

Ruffy's original name was Bear, and she was the biggest of the litter, with her Bear paws and german shepard ears bigger than her head flipping around like alien antennae. She charmed us instantly by nipping at then 3 year old Dylan's shoes and Daren's hands. I could see Daren falling in love with this other woman. We let Dylan name her and he choose Ruffy, because "dogs go Ruff." Fair enough, kiddo! Doodle evolved as her middle name just because I kept calling her that, and I've had passersby do a double take when I call her sternly to stop rolling in dirt or taking off like freaking Lassie. Ruffy, your missions, they are all here at home, baby.

She is a placid, sweet young lady. I use those words carefully since she does this crotch licking number that would make any male dog blush. Her tongue is so long she could wrap it around her head. Thrice.

She is slightly neurotic, like most women, and needs constant reassurance that we love her unconditionally. We must. She took nearly 2 years to housebreak and still has accidents from time to time. She used to pee every time Daren got home from work, simply out of pure joy of his presence. I ripped up carpet while pregnant, and we spent hundreds of dollars redoing the underlying hardwood because of her. Oh the joy!

She has an innate ability to frustrate the shit outta me by lying in front of the stove while I cook dinner, stand in front of the highchair as I try to clean up Troll Baby, and walk back and forth in the yard no less than 64 times before deciding where to drop her butt and pee. She has this look she gives us if we show any affection, a look that says "it's never going to be enough," or "stop abusing me and give in to my desire for cheese." Our cutlery drawer is enormous, packed to the brim with every cultery-ish type device known to man, and yet, she knows precisely when I'm pulling out the cheese grater. She also knows cheese packaging sounds within seconds of me opening the fridge.

Ruffy is also fiercely protective of the kids and I. The poor Gas Company Meter Reader Dude shakes in his boots every month as all that stands between him and her is a measly pane of patio door glass. She barks with such urgency and boldness, I wonder if she doesn't have a split personality. For this, I am grateful, and I feel safe in her presence. It just blows when GCMRD shows up during Troll Baby's very delicate, nobody breathe, rustle a paper, or blink, afternoon nap.

It saddens me that dogs don't live nearly long enough. I know that when my boys are a few years older, Ruffy will pass and it will break their hearts. Silly of me to think of that now I guess, but the first four years have flown by so quickly, and I can see less puppy and more dog with each passing month, and I know the next four years will slip between my fingers just as fast.

So Happy Birthday Ruffy. I love you enough to walk in hail, rain, snow and sleet. I love you enough to grate a few bits of cheese but no more, because God knows, that 64 back and forths to poop need not get any higher. To the only daughter I'll ever have, my Ruffy Doodle, my Furry Wonderkin, my Lovely Lady, this day is for you.

Last photo: credit to Dylan at Didgery Doo.

Negotiation

2006-03-23T19:13:00.000-05:00

I CAN'T STOP FUCKING LAUGHING AT THIS

2006-03-22T22:26:00.000-05:00

Oh dear God. Sassy cooked tonight. You have to read her post about this, and then come back. Go ahead, I'll wait.

********************************************

Okay so after her poor family eats this stir-fry from HELL, her husband says, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"What?" Sassy replied.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know that you could have killed me with all that meat tenderizer?"

"What? Why?"

"Don't you know that meat tenderizer softens your muscles?"

"REALLY? Oh my God!" She is panicking at this point.

"Yes, meat tenderizer softens your muscles. Did you ALSO know that the word 'gullable' is not in the dictionary?"

"What? Really?"

MUCH laughter erupts from Sassy's teenage sons and husband.

Later, her hubby has to go see a customer about a quote and asks her to bring him about 6 Tums. He is DYING from heartburn. As we speak.

Dying, people. Sassy should NEVER EVER cook again. For the sake of her family. They don't need anymore Raccoon Meatloaf either.

Also, do you know, she once called me to ask how to make Tuna Pasta Salad and I had to walk her through the steps on how to drain a can of fucking tuna? Yeah. I really did.

Opinions are like.....in demand

2006-03-22T19:41:00.000-05:00

Did I tell you how beautiful you look today? Did I also tell you how much I value your opinion? Well as you might know, I'm a part of Blogher and a group of us bloggity goddesses are trying something new. In the process, we need some readership feedback.

So if you would be so kind, please click the little button over there at the top of my shmokin' sidebar, and answer a few questions. You need not answer anything that you are uncomfortable answering, since ALL the questions are completely optional. It will only take a minute and the feedback we get will be very valuable. Thank you in advance!

tidbits

2006-03-22T10:18:00.000-05:00

Boy it's been a busy morning! Now that March Break is over, I decided to inject 5000 mL of Starbucks Frappacino Coffee Drink into my bloodstream and get started on some spring cleaning. Dylan's room was a giant dust bunny, dotted with army men, Lego pieces and socks. I figured out the dryer isn't actually the culprit for eating all our socks, it's Dylan's dust ruffle. Dust ruffle my ass - it hasn't dusted a damn thing around here! Thomas happily played here in the rec room while Mommy turned into the Housewife Hurricane and cleaned all the bedrooms, stripping the beds and vaccuuming the mattresses. All this talk in the news had me inspecting the mattresses for dust mites, but alas, dust mites don't live in my house, probably because our house is smack dab in the middle of The Neverending Winter. Forget the name Ontario, let's just call it Narnia. All the while the windows were open to the frigid winter wind, but boy it felt good to have those puppies cracked open. Fresh air!

Thomas is coming out with more words on a daily basis, and I even got him to say "Hiiiiii Sassy," on the phone to my beloved friend. Course my good-looking friend Karen's name was too much for him and he swooned into the phone at her, "Hiiiii Hottie." Yep, you pegged her, kiddo. She is my hottest friend. She knows it too. Just kidding, Karen! *wink wink*

Yesterday on Baby Einstien, there were little fish swimming across the screen, and Troll Baby exclaimed (as he always does) "Wassat?"

"Fish," I replied.

"Shit," he attempted.

Trying not to laugh, I said "Fffffffish," obviously trying to enunciate the "F."

He tried again. "Ffffffshit."

Hey, I tried.

As all my Narnia friends begin to emerge from their own winter hibernation, the spring and summer weekends are quickly filling up with BBQ dates, cottaging and a trip to Calgary with Dylan, to see Sassy, Penny and Ang. This coming weekend we are having a BBQ with Jen and Chris and their kids. Jen is otherwise known as Hot Friend #2, or She Who May Be Able To Get Us Tickets to Dora The Explorer. Saaaa-Weet!

Daren's lifelong best friend and his lovely wife (hot friend #3 - man I have alot of hot friends) just had their first baby on the weekend. Matthew was born Saturday night and since I said I wouldn't call to see when we could come and see the little gaffer, I'm sitting on my hands in anticipation of the invite. And I can still type while I'm doing that, don'tcha know.

Well the laundry is calling me. I have to wash and dry Troll Baby's binkie if I want him to nap at some point today. And I DO.

Have you started your spring cleaning?

The Rhyme Goes Straight to your Head.

2006-03-21T20:02:00.000-05:00

All around the hardwood floors,
The Mommy chased the Weasel.
The Weasel thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! Goes the Weasel.
A penny for a spool of thread,
A penny for a needle,
As if anything costs a penny anymore......who are we fooling here?
Pop! Goes the Weasel!

There was a little boy
Who had a little star
Right in the middle of his forehead;
And when he was good,
He was very, very good
But when he was bad he was horrid.

Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick,
Jack quit making out
with your candlestick!

(picture taken by Dylan at Didgery Doo.)

I have ten fingers
And they all belong to me,
I can make them do things-
Would you like to see?

I can shut them up tight
I can open them wide
I can put them together
I can make them all hide

I can make them jump high
I can make them jump low
I can fold them up quietly
And hold them just so.

Garlic Juice?

2006-03-20T08:25:00.000-05:00

There's a little ad in my sidebar for Garlic Juice. Duuuudddee! That sounds SO good! You know, for cooking, not for drinking....ha ha....me thinks I'm going to order some.

On an even stinkier note, Troll Baby woke up BAWLING. He was waist to toe in poop. NASTY. Especially nasty since Daddy made some amazing dinner last night that everyone devoured. I'm thinking Troll Baby is processing food like his father. TOXIC WASTE. Poor baby was very upset as I changed him, using 1267 wipes. (Note: Never buy President's Choice Baby Wipes - they are akin to wet dryer sheets - USELESS). Poor little man was just so upset at how cold the wipes are (I thought it was the first day of spring for crying out loud), and he cried and cried, pulling his legs away from me, making it more difficult to clean him up. I finally get him all sparkly, and sit him up to put a little sweater over his pajama shirt, and he grabs his legs and says, "poop poop" in the smallest voice, between sobs. I've never heard something so cute in my entire life.

"Yes honey, poop all gone."

"Gone!" he exclaimed, a smile beaming over his face.

"Now Mommy must hose herself down," I said, beaming back at him.

"Hooooosssseeeerrrr."

My Canadian friends will appreciate this:

Take off, eh.

In Memory of Eric

2006-03-19T22:57:00.000-05:00

Eric W. Shaffer, 7/21/81-3/17/06

Eric passed away Friday night. Please join his wife Amanda by supporting Cancer research, supporting in any way you can. I donated money tonight, and I've added a badge in the sidebar. Get one. Give.

Rest in peace Eric. Your message was heard. Your life was so very important.

Amanda, may you find the strength and support you need.
Love, Karen

100 Things

2006-03-19T12:23:00.000-05:00

1. I cry when I pluck my eyebrows.

2. Teenagers make me nervous.

3. I left home at 14.

4. I like the white cheddar powder I put on my popcorn, more than I like popcorn. In fact, I'm not sure I even like popcorn.

5. I stopped getting so many migraines and illnesses once I started seeing a chiropractor.

6. I love walking.

7. I reported my mother to Children's Aid for abusing her boyfriend's daughter.

8. We don't speak anymore.

9. The daughter is fine and was removed from the home.

10. I don't have any regrets about doing this.

11. I am terrified of earwigs, but my Papa taught me to chop the head off a snake with a shovel, and I have no problem doing that. We had to protect my Granny's garden!

12. As a toddler, I used to unscrew the rungs of my crib and escape, when I was finished napping.

13. Before braces, the kids used to call me Bucky the Wonder Horse. Thanks, Michael G., you asshole.

14. Our dog makes me safe at night.

15. My worst fear is someone breaking in while we're home.

16. I co-manage a Mom's MSN group.

17. I support Perverted Justice.

18. My fave shows include Survivor, CSI, Law & Order, and Desperate Housewives.

19. As a child, my fave shows were Dukes of Hazzard, CHiPS, The A-Team and Casper the Friendly Ghost.

20. My oldest son had Kawasaki's Disease at 3 months of age.

21. He still has anuerysms as a result.

22. My kids are my life and I love being a Stay-at-Home-Mom.

23. When they get older, I want to go back to school, then work for Children's Aid.

24. After being through my childhood, it has always called to me, and likely always will.

25. I have a younger brother (same Mom as me), and a younger sister (same Dad as me).

26. I haven't seen the sister since she was little.

27. My Dad is hiding from her to avoid paying child support. He did the same thing to me, and we don't speak after I called him on it.

28. I sometimes think my parents shouldn't have bothered having me.

29. I'm glad they did. Though I'm also glad I'm nothing like them.

30. I'm ashamed that my parents are such losers.

31. I'm trying to teach my boys about doing the right thing, all the time.

32. I had Post-partum depression after having Thomas.

33. Before I had PPD, I used to think it was in people's heads. Now I know it's real.

34. I love coffee and must have it every morning.

35. I hate tattoos.

36. I swear alot in real life. Lately I've had to be careful because Thomas is repeating everything. EVERYTHING.

37. I'm in true love with the internet.

38. I also am in true love with my husband, Daren.

39. I know it's forever with us. No doubts, whatsoever.

40. My husband is my best friend.

41. I married him for the sex.

42. I later found out he was amazingly special and fell in love with him.

43. I fall in love with him over again, every day.

44. We are finished having children.

45. Daren changed careers about 2 years ago. The first year was the hardest, but we're getting back on our feet now.

46. Daren plays hockey 3 nights a week; I like the quiet.

47. I work on the nights he is out.

48. This is my business.

49. I love my business and my customers are amazing and fun.

50. Dylan is named after my brother, and has Daren's middle name.

51. Thomas is named after Daren's very best friend, Daren's father and Daren's grandfather.

52. Daren's best friend and his wife just had their first baby and he shares Daren's middle name as well.

53. I am typically a happy person and my moods are steady now that I'm done with PPD and the drugs.

54. I really didn't like the drugs they put me on. They made me gain 60 pounds. I've lost 22 of those pounds and I'm working on the rest.

55. Every Thursday night, we make baked nachos and watch Survivor.

56. I love salad, vegetables and fruits.

57. I don't have a strong temper anymore.

58. I look great in hats, so people tell me, but I don't own any except for a winter hat. Half the time I shove Daren's hat on my head instead of looking for mine.

59. I have curly hair. It used to be straight but after I had the kids, it went curly. I love it.

60. I don't like soda.

61. I'm Canadian, so I should be calling it pop.

62. These are some of my favorite blogs.

63. My blogroll is too long and there are some there out of obiligation.

64. I need to shorten it to the ones I actually read.

65. I bought my own domain about a month ago and I have no idea how to use it.

66. I'm only doing Blogger blogs at my business now because I don't want to make anyone wait longer than I already have.

67. I like making up things to see if people will fall for it.

68. Daren and I met at work.

69. He told me there were cameras in the lights and that's why we couldn't kiss at work. (That wasn't true, and no, I didn't fall for it.)

70. We made out in the electrical room once.

71. We broke up 100 times before we decided this was forever.

72. I asked him to marry me. I got down on one knee, and had a ring and everything.

73. I go after what I want.

74. Daren is a huge procrastinator.

75. He probably still wouldn't have asked to this day. Kidding.

76. I'm impatient, but not in a cranky way. Like in an excited way.

77. It's taken me 3 days to get this far on this list.

78. I find myself thinking about my kids alot.

79. I would die for them.

80. I have planned out senarios in my head of how I would get them safe if someone did break in. I'm neurotic like that.

81. I have a wild imagination.

82. Dylan says to write that I'm a great Mom to him and Thomas. That brought tears to my eyes.

83. He also said I'm good at helping him with his homework.

84. I tutor my friend's daughter in math.

85. I enjoy helping people.

86. I often stay in my jammies until Thomas goes for his afternoon nap.

87. I'm too paranoid to leave him alone while I shower.

88. I have exema on my hands.

89. I'm happy to be over 30.

90. I love cigarettes but I don't want to be a smoker.

91. I struggle with it every day although I quit in October 2005.

92. I smoke when I drink.

93. I only drink every few weeks, if that.

94. I don't like beer, nor do I like the taste of alcohol.

95. My in-laws are more like family to me than my own parents.

96. I feel blessed in every aspect of my life.

97. I am grateful that my adulthood is one million times better than my childhood was.

98. I hate when people blame their current problems on their childhood.

99. I do believe everyone has choices.

100. I have no regrets.

Monk

2006-03-19T01:14:00.000-05:00

It saddens me that Troll Baby won't curl up with us in our bed, like Dylan used to do. He needs his alone time to sleep and every little noise wakes him. I have hardly gotten to watch this little one sleep, only because he shoots up as soon as anyone opens his door. It's amazing how different these two boys are.

Tonight I lay on the couch while Thomas played and Dylan watched a movie Daddy had rented for him. Daren had my feet across his lap and his head kept bobbing as he drifted in and out of slumber. I couldn't get warm and shivered under a blanket, while Thomas jumped and danced to the music on the movie, then crawled up by my head and leaned in to kiss me. The vocabulary is exploding with him and there's at least 10 new words a day. I wish I could bottle his little voice and stop time altogether. Soon he will move to a big-boy bed, and potty training will commence. Already I look at his little feet and notice they have doubled in size since birth.

Dylan has taken to drawing robots that are clearly going to take over the earth. He's been using big words for a 7 year old, like double mondo-missle, extra-classfied, and F-1 Corsair. Huh?

He used to draw happy faced Anakin Skywalkers, and now it's Robot Warriors with Extra Rocket Boosters. His creativity has been astounding both of us. His most recent drawing says "Extra-classified N-2 Hypnotizing ship (converts enemy units, jewels, ships, etc.)" When asked, he said the robot ship was like a monk.

"A monk?" I asked.

"Yes," he insisted, "because Monks heal people and hypnotize them into feeling better, but with this, there is no feeling better, there is just a change of mind control. It's a covert operation Mom."

Alrighty then!

March Break, Slow and Easy

2006-03-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

Our kids have slowed me down this week. It's been rewarding and they have shown me the world through their eyes. Dylan has taken quite an interest in photography and he is proud to show off his work through Didgery Doo (link in sidebar). Thank you to everyone who encouraged him by leaving a comment ~ you should have seen his face. He was BEAMING. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Dylan also thinks that other kids out there might be interested in following his lead. He is about to create a community blog for kids under 18 to participate by sending in their photos. If your kid(s) might be interested, please send an email to didgerydoo AT gmail.com. All kids must have express permission from their parent/guardian, and all photos remain the property of the artist.

On to March Break. We have slept as long as Thomosaurus Rex will allow, until around 8, which is much better than the usual 6:30 we have to rise at, for school. This alone makes March Break fun for everyone as we go at our own pace.

We've risen slowly, getting sippy cups, juice boxes, coffee and cereal as needed, and staying in our pyjamas until we are ready to start our adventures.

Monday looked bleak. The weather was cold, rainy and windy and the kids were restless. Motivation for me was low (read - I was feeling LAZY), and we ended up playing on the rug all morning, building Lego castles under comforter forts and reading library books with big pictures and animated noises. We laughed alot that morning, and by lunchtime, Thomas was eager to sleep. As I went up to make lunch at 11:30, the thunderstorm had worsened enough that the power went out. We grazed on sandwiches and goodies instead of having the hot lunch we all wanted.

Thomas fell asleep easily in the quiet and Dylan and I abandoned the darkened rec room to play with the camera and his cars, Lego men, and the Easter Tree in the front window. I taught Dylan some features of the camera and the afternoon was soon lost in stifled giggles and whispered questions. At dinnertime, the power returned and Thomas woke up at the same time, almost like someone had flipped his switch too.

Soon enough, Daren came home to a hot spaghetti dinner and Dylan proudly showing him photos. We spent the evening just being together and soon, the little ones were off to bed.

Tuesday was the trip to the Maple Sugar Bush with friends. It was still cold and windy, but the rain had turned to snow and the pancakes tasted so good in the outdoors. We were all bundled up warm and huddled together on the wagon. I wore Daren's giant jacket and looked like a freaking marshmellow man, but hey, I had kids to snuggle. Thomas enjoyed the horses; and Dylan, now in charge of the camera, attacked us all with it. We came home to let Thomas sleep and Dylan played hockey in the street with buddies all afternoon. Red cheeked, he returned with an empty belly and a huge smile on his face.

Wednesday we ran errands, but a simple trip to the grocery turned into fun for the kids since we got the car shaped cart where they could sit side by side and "drive" the cart. They giggled and played through the whole store, muching on bologna and crackers. The best moment was when Dylan put his arm around Thomas' little shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. I wish I had brought the camera then ~ my heart melted.

Girlfriends of mine came over for homemade quesadillas that night, both enjoying the quiet of not having their own kids with them, but relishing in the presence of our two boys. Thomas charmed them with kisses and games of peek-a-boo, while Dylan showed them his new hobby with such pride.

Yesterday we slept until nearly 9 (wow!) and both boys enjoyed a play date while I ran a couple of errands. Later, we went to see Dylan's babysitter that used to watch him, and her family. We enjoyed their company over pizza and chatter, and the atmoshere was so comfortable and warm. We returned last night to find Daren home early from work and the kids got to play with him for some time before heading off to la-la land.

Today we are hosting a play date with more old friends, and none of us can wait. It's been too long since we saw them last, and yet it's the kind of thing where it will seem like we only saw one another yesterday. I love friendships like that.

The weekend brings family back from Mexico, after a month of missing them, I'm sure Saturday night will be full of kisses, hugs, stories and laughter. If Daren's cooking, our tummies will be happy as well!

What did you do for March Break?

Didgery Doo!

2006-03-14T20:55:00.000-05:00

Well the little man has decided to share his digital photography. 7 Year Old Dylan has started a photoblog here:

I'm so very proud of him. Today we went to the Maple Sugar Bush and he was in charge of the camera. He took some interesting shots and clearly, he learned something. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it. Have fun, sweetheart!!

Love, Mom

The Plans, they are a-changin'

2006-03-13T10:54:00.000-05:00

Well the rain came down and when I called the surprise destination, turned out the horses had been sent home as the mud was too deep. We are supposed to get a freeze tonight and the woman said to call tomorrow morning. So tomorrow, finger's crossed, we will go.

The rain has tapered and if it holds off, we will be feeding seals and dipping candles this afternoon. I hope the Troll doesn't mind missing his nap. I'm cringing at the thought of a screaming toddler this afternoon but it seems when I expect the worst, I get the best.

He was exceptional this past weekend. Charming, with his little voice repeating everyone elses, as the chatter flew around him. He must have said 20 new words just this past weekend, including Salsa (instead of Nelson - a relative), and Nee Nee and Ah Ah - for Granny and Papa. Everyone was smitten with him and I think he knew it. We asked him if he was cold and he pulled his shoulders up around his ears like he does when I've scooped him up out of the tub. He chased my cousin's cat, calling, "Tittie! Tittie!" and squealing while the cat just glared at him. I think she liked the attention though, because when Thomas got busy with something else, she would sneak back into his vision and plop her furry butt on the floor, then sprawl out onto her back, stretching her paws into the air and flitting her tail. What a flirt!

My oldest cousin, her boyfriend and I made dinner for all 14 of us. In light of Jessica's recent surgery, my Aunt and Granny got a well deserved night off as we made my delicious pasta, garden salad and a huge tray of BBQ'd chicken and steaks. Here's the recipe for the pasta....if you're so inclined.

A Few Of My Favorite Things Pasta:

WARNING: I don't measure stuff....sorry!
Ingredients:
3 Heads of Garlic, Roasted and slightly mashed*
Red Onion, chopped
Crimini Mushrooms
Olive Oil
Red Peppers, chopped
Heavy Cream
Parmasean Cheese
Your choice of noodles - we used spaghettini - the thinest noodles. Linguini and Penne also work well.
Mozzerella Cheese, grated - to taste

Directions:
You can roast the garlic and chop the veggies, ahead of time.

*To roast garlic, place the garlic on it's side and slice off as little as possible, exposing the cloves (leave the garlic intact in a head). Place into an oven-safe dish and douse in olive oil.

Bake at 375 degrees until fork tender (typically 30-40 minutes)

In the meantime, chop veggies and sauté in olive oil and a pad of two of butter (no I don't measure!) add a little coarse salt to bring out the flavour of the veggies.

Remove the roasted garlic cloves from the head and mash them with a fork. (These little gems are also a great appetizer on sliced french stick loaf with goat cheese and the garlic on top - yum!)

Add to the sautéed veggies: the mashed garlic, heavy cream and parmasean cheese. For 14 people, I used a tall boy container of the parm cheese (ALOT) and a litre of cream. You need to keep stirring on medium to avoid the sauce from burning - let it heat up, then turn it to medium low and stir occassionally. When the sauce thickens, it's ready.

Top your favourite noodles, sprinkle on your grated mozzerella and enjoy!

(You can add lots of other things to this sauce, like chicken, or different cheeses or veggies.....whatever you fancy!)

Most Overused Word. EVER.

2006-03-12T23:43:00.000-05:00

This has been bugging me for some time, but are you as sick as I am of the word "couture?"

It sounds like a sneeze. Say it like you live in a trailer park and it sounds like a really wet sneeze. Ew.

Most people who have 'picked it up,' not only learned it from America's Next Top Model or Project Runway (which I STILL haven't seen, dammit), they don't know how to use it. I'm officially banning "couture" from my vocabulary. Gesundheit!

More tomorrow. This past weekend was a blast! Not sure when I'll post, as I'm surprising the boys with a mystery day-tripping destination tomorrow. I love March Break!

P.S. Did you see Natalie Portman on SNL? NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR KIDS. OR PETS. Much swearing.

P.P.S. If you like the Simpsons, you'll be amused by this too.

Of Redneckken' and Library Ladies

2006-03-09T17:01:00.000-05:00

This is a busy time for me and I'll be off and on for the next two weeks. The kids and I are heading up to see my cousin Jessica who just had surgery. Her strength amazes me. Only 16 and here she is on her 9th surgery. Go show her some bloggy love!

This morning was quite a change - the snow is melting and it's been raining non-stop for 2 days. Hubby got a ride to work and left his car behind mine. He didn't leave the keys so I pulled a redneck move, doing a 52-point turn in the driveway and driving out via the lawn. Yeehaw! You shoulda seen the look on dat dere crossing guards face!

Thomas and I headed up to Stupidstore (Great Canadian Superstore for you newbies) and I was worried he would be a CrankyPants because he refused to eat breakfast, but he was the most endearing, sweet little cart-monkey today. It helps that I fed him banana-yogurt drinks and Teddy Grahams through the whole store. He is really trying to talk now and repeats everything we say. Today it was "yist yist!!" (list) and "Ohhhhh Mama..." I seriously considered ripping open a bag of tortillas, rolling him up and taking a bite of his cutey cuteness.

We stopped at the library where he squealed and laughed through the entire place as I chased him down. Not one to let my kids run free in public, I had to make a huge game of how important it was for him to give the library card to the lady at the desk. Once I hoisted his diapered butt onto the high counter, he threw the card like a frisbee and it hit the library lady in the nose. Damn. It took all my strength not to laugh.

Well the errands aren't over - I have to run these kids to the chiropractor now. I'll be back blogging as much as I can over the next two weeks, but don't expect much. It's March Break, yo.

Have a safe one! And don't forget to go give Jessica bloggy love!

Martini Mamas

2006-03-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

Sassy can't decide whether to order another drink or to soak up some of the virgin daquiri with garlic mashed potatoes.......

I'm 13! Not 12! 13 I tell ya!

Drink #1 - notice the camera in focus.

Not drink #1.

Nicole beams at the bartender who resembles Orlando Bloom. We know what's she's thinking!

I'm innocent, really.

tidbits

2006-03-02T23:32:00.000-05:00

Overhead in the car after Miss Priss was picked up and I carried her over an icy puddle (to avoid her leopard print boots being ruined, OF COURSE), then loaded her big-ass suitcase into the trunk: "If we were a lesbian couple, I would SO be the manly one."

I must remember to buy Visine when I have to drive 4 hours in a complete motherfucker of a blizzard. My eyeballs are BURNING. Why I'm on the computer, I have no idea. It's called addiction.

When I'm driving in said motherfucker of a blizzard, I must remember that little mouths will repeat the last word of any given sentence, especially if that sentence is "This blows monkey ass." We heard "Ass ass ass" from the little piggy, ALL THE WAY HOME. Mother of the year, I tell ya!

No pictures yet. We're too wiped and have talked more than Daren talks in an entire year. Women, eh? Speaking of Daren, he came home from work with two beautiful bouquets: one for our lovely guest, and one for MOI, his kick-ass wife.

Our sea-monkeys have been doing it for DAYS. The poor woman sea-monkey is ripe with children already and he just won't leave her alone. Maybe she wants it though....all those pregnancy hormones couldn't keep me.......never mind, my father-in-law and grandparents read this blog. Damn!

Must start an anonymous blog someday.

Tonight on ER there was mention of a blog that the red-headed doctor is keeping? Did anyone else catch that?

Okay, my eyes are drier than the crust on a toddler's nose. But not MY toddler's nose! I'm a good Mama.

G'night!

**Comments are moderated for this entry**

Reunited and it feels so goooood....

2006-03-02T07:29:00.000-05:00

In about 5 hours I will be at the airport, picking up my best friend Sassy. I can't wait to see her again. Last time we saw each other was on our Thelma and Louise car trip to NY. She flew here and the two of us fueled the car on giggles and Doritos for the 10 hour trip to meet 3 other friends.

Sassy is the type of person that can make you laugh with just a look. She is extremely funny and has a million stories from her colourful life. I'm proud to not only know her but to be best friends with her. Never in my life could I have imagined that a couple of 30 somethings Moms would meet on the internet and become so close. We talk on the phone, all day, every day. We know each other better than anyone else knows us. We're going into our 4th year of friendship and here's to many more!

I'm so excited and we're SO blogging this fookery! WOO HOO! Safe flight, bizatch!

**Comments are moderated today. I'll approve shit when I get home, if I'm not too busy.**

2006-03-01T09:52:00.000-05:00

I decided to join Lucinda's and MommaK's search for the Perfect Post. Each Month, the group of us give out the awards to bloggers who have touched us. These bloggers have made us, laugh, cry, or curl up with our arms around our knees to rock and drool. It really depends what moves you, ya know?

Anyway, I have awarded the fantastic and funny Queen with this month's Perfect Post. This one caught my eye, because I too, have hippo-like qualities that I would like to get rid of. Her post made me laugh and also inspired me to take action. So dear Queen, congratulations! Your post couldn't have come at a more perfect time! Now let's get our jiggly asses in gear! :)

Visit these other fine bloggers to see who won their Perfect Post Award:

Suburban Turmoil

Petroville

Home Grown

Old Horsetail Snake

Half of the Sky

Practigal

Outside In

Crazy Momcat

Mini-Obs

Aunt Vanessa

Ladybug Crossing

Heather-Anne

Sleeping Mommy

The Daily Bitch

The Green Straw

Agog and Aghast

Masked Mom

Cheeky Lotus

mebbe i have had too much wine but...

2006-03-01T00:08:00.000-05:00

....i thought this was cute. g'night.

2006-02-28T10:24:00.000-05:00

Blog Mad goes live to the public in March!
GET IN TODAY or you will have to wait for an invite!

According to BM admin:
From March 1 blogmad registrations will be closed and we will only be accepting registrations by invite only.

This is to allow us to potentially kill any major bugs after we launch until its flawless and launch some late ideas.

BlogMad users will given a few invites at a time and will only get a replenishment once theirs are used up and accepted.

Writing Back to Family Members in Mexico Who are Using the Internet Instead of Lying on a Beach. Addicts.

2006-02-28T08:28:00.000-05:00

Hi So-and-so, So-and-so, So-and-so, and So-and-so,
Sounds like you are all having a great time - I got both emails although Daren hasn't seen them yet I don't think. Dylan's first playoff game was 3-2 for the other team but I shot some video of our little man kicking some 7 year old ass. He was awesome! Yesterday was Tool Show and Tell day at school so Dylan took that plane that was Great Grandpa's. When I told him who's it was and how special it was, his face lit up and he was so proud.
Thomas is starting to say words and asking for stuff a little. Just yesterday he told me "I need a cigarette." I'm not even kidding - it sounded EXACTLY like he said that. So we kicked back, him in his vibrating chair with three fingers of scotch and me with wine. It was a great afternoon - he plays a mean poker game.
Daren has been working a little overtime. It's cold here - and he's been up in the manlift every day, freezing his balls off. Yesterday was a little wamer though, since the outhouse was pumped out and I'm pretty sure the stench kept him all cozy ~ seeing as he takes a half hour dump here at home, and enjoys it so much, it must have felt comforting.
I'll hug the kids for you if I can catch them ~ they are busy little people! Take care, have fun, drink lots and be safe!
Miss you, Love you, blah blah blah,
Karen and the Boys (even the big, bald, smelly one)

I'll Take the Vibrating Chair for $500, Alex.

2006-02-27T08:21:00.000-05:00

I dug out Thomas' old vibrating baby seat that converts to a vibrating toddler rocker and he is loving it. It's the longest he has ever sat still since he was a tiny sausage roll. He turns it on, sits in it and stays still! Add to the mix Dora, cookies (yes, for breakfast - I'm a cool Mommy) and a sippy cup full of milk and it's like he's in Toddler Paradise. Sweet!

Yesterday Dylan and I went to his little friend's birthday party. The whole lot of us watched the movie Doogal. Wow. Talk about trying hard. The writers of this movie must have thought that saying things like "bling bling" and "pimp my boat" would bring all the kids to the yard. I'm sorry, but a kid's movie that uses the word "pimp" and whose lead character looks like Jennifer Aniston and Joe Dirt mated? What the hell were the producers smoking? EDITED TO ADD: Snozzberries saw it too and wrote a funny open letter to Jon Stewart.

It was slow at first, and with all the lame jokes, try-hard verbage, and references to really good movies, made for bad film. Don't waste your money. Not even to rent it. Not even to rent it and set it on fire.

The smell of dryer sheets and bleach are making me high. Sassy arrives on Thursday and if I bounce off the walls anymore, people are going to start calling the women's shelters. I'm driving Daren nuts with little things I want done and the "poor guy" has switched back to four 10 hour days so he's a wee bit tired. Suck it up, buttercup! Most of the stuff I need done require tools and he has the nerve to take them to work with him. Like, can't he borrow someone else's for this week? I need shit done!

My stomach has been a huge heavy ball of artichoke dip and crackers since last night. We filled up on popcorn at the movies so I skipped a real dinner and opted for this snack at 10 o'clock last night. Big mistake. I'll spare you the details, but I wish this would just go away already. Garlicky, onion-y, and cheesey things are evil. Evil!

That's all I got. If you're bored, tell me what you think of me. Oh just do it and quit whining.

Sunday is the Funday

2006-02-26T00:36:00.000-05:00

It's 43 minutes into Sunday. I'm buried in work cuz I'm about to take a week off and I want to wrap up everything before I hang with Sassy who is flying 3000 miles to stay with me because she loves me 'n'shit yo.

Okay, so I'm self-absorbed enough to have a blog in the first place, so you gotta go here and tell me what you think of me.

Miss Ann Thorpe the Magnificent did it and I'm so copying her because I can (and I'm bribing her with Aero Bars and Coffee Crisps to avoid being bitchslapped.) Why are you still reading this? Go. Go now.

Apparently my Papa likes my cousin Jessica MORE.

2006-02-25T11:59:00.000-05:00

She got more outta him on IM than I did. I'm SO pouting. NO FAIR!

It's comments like this that make things fly outta my nose.

2006-02-24T23:54:00.000-05:00

From Christina at My Topography who is normally VERY articulate, mature, classy, crafty in so many ways....the most creative artsy-fartsy amazing blogger I know ....in regards to this post where you put your name in and get random definitions:

"okay so, i went there and put various versions of my name in, and then i started wondering if it was totally random--so i put a name in that i had already entered, and viola! it gave me a DIFFERENT definition. so just when i was feeling all smug that it was total random hoey, i entered 'butt nuggets' (DONT ASK, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW MY BRAIN CAME UP WITH THAT!) and this is what it said: "butt nuggets -- [noun]: A person who falls into an outhouse and dies" I nearly died laughing. maybe it's not so random after all. Karen--I have you to thank for making me act like I'm in 7th grade. I so heart you for all your silliness!"

I feel I am now one with Christina and her butt nuggets. She and I are forever linked by butt nuggets. Christina, you had me at Hello. Oh and what the hell is hoey? Do you mean HOOEY or are you calling me a bad bad name much like a gardening tool only nakeder? Just checking.

Do you ever do something so stupid, you want to punch yourself in the face?

2006-02-24T00:46:00.000-05:00

Well it seems I *might* have. I bought this product from eBay:

I paid one cent. Yes you heard me right. One cent. Plus $12 of shipping. The feedback on the product was 100% and everyone who bought it was really happy, so I thought, why the hell not? Besides, it said this:

Look at all those exclamation marks! Amazing! Thin! Thin! Thin! Well not as thin as these two I hope. Yuck!

It arrived today. The bottle looked like it was made in someone's home with their bubble jet printer. It makes me wonder if it is what it says it is. It's sealed, of course, but so are many other things that aren't really good for you, like Pop-Tarts and Disposible Toilet Bowl Scrubbers. I'm a wee bit nervous about this.

What they don't tell you on the eBay auction is that you have to take TWENTY FOUR ounces of water with each pill. You take a pill 30 minutes before breakfast and 30 minutes before lunch. That is alot of water in one shot. I mean, I drink about 48-64 ounces of water per day any way, but all at once? Um, okay. Still, I have delusional fantasies about my weight loss, therefore I am blinded by the light. Wrapped up like a DUECE, baby.

So I'm reading the label to Sassy and we're having a good laugh over it earlier today. Tonight I mention to her on the phone, that I will be starting my fake-pills diet tomorrow and she says, "Enjoy your one pill and two buckets of water!" Yeah, pretty soon I can have a body like this:

"How appropriate!" her enemies will exclaim.

2006-02-22T23:50:00.000-05:00

Troll Baby --

[noun]:

A person of questionable sanity who starts their own cult

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

However:

Karen Rani --

[noun]:

Sexually Stunning

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Take that, bitches.

20 Things

2006-02-22T21:06:00.000-05:00

This weeks theme at Mama Says Om is 20 things.

Take a WILD guess at what my theme is.

1) Walking behind my car when I'm backing out, in a parking lot. Hmmmm....3000 pound car vs. man with no brain. Who will win?

2) Placing change on the counter for the cashier to pick up. How ignorant are you? A million years ago, when I was a cashier, I would hold out my hand and look away, like I didn't notice the asshole had thrown his money on the counter. They ALWAYS picked it up and I was so gracious and over-kind about it, with a mumbled "fuckyouverymuch," which sounds like "thankyouverymuch," if you say it quick enough. *wink wink*

3) Jealousy. It makes people "U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi, you UGLY!"

4) The fact that our water meter is in the basement and the Hydro chick always rings the doorbell during Troll Baby nap times. I swear she is new, you know, to life. EVERY MONTH I SAY LEAVE THE CARD AND I WILL CALL IT IN AND EVERY MONTH YOU RING MY BELL, IGNITE THE BARKING, WAKE THE TROLL AND MAKE ME IRRITATED, WOMAN!

5) T.V that dipicts men as idiots. (You know this)

6) Cleaning the fish tank. (You know this too.)

7) Dirty snow. It's just so....uh, dirty-looking. C'mon SPRING!!!!

8) A certain 7 year old's innate ability to forget to flush the toilet. Every. single. time. It's even better when he uses the laundry room toilet which runs and gets shuts off. He tells NO ONE and the offending log sits to soak. YUM. This is when Mommy reflects on how lucky she is.

9) Cobwebs. How do you exterminate those pesky cobs?

10) Girly things that have to be done, like plucking eyebrows, shaving legs and constant fucking mosturizing.

11) The fact that when I switched to Haloscan, I lost all my previous Blogger comments. *sniff*

12) The non-word, "HUH?" when "Pardon" would do just fine. (Sassy)

13) The price of ______ (insert staple here - milk, gas, Quaker Oatmeal Bars, tampons, etc)

14) The allotted decibel level of toys in Canada (it is significantly higher than most other countries). You have NO IDEA.

15) People who blog about the fact that they have nothing to blog about. That is like writing a letter to your Granny and telling her you have nothing to write about. If you really have absolutely nothing to write about, kindly fuck off. Like seriously, do not hit Publish Post. Not even a little bit.

16) Signatures on blogs, messages boards, etc. Especially ones like this:

Luke's views are demonstrative of a mind clinging tenaciously to a frayed thread of reality. The slightest psychic bump could cause this thread to snap and mucho chaos to ensue.
- Jeffery Dahmer

Yes, *I* always thought serial killers made the best signatures. *shudder*

17) Abandonded blogs. They really should consider internet janitors who clean this shit up.

18) Exema. Any suggestion for this one people? My hands are on fire from October to April.

19) PeOplE wHo wrITe LiKE tHIs. Or they have all those symbols and shit and make it hard to read.

20) This.

Dear Thomas,

2006-02-22T13:19:00.000-05:00

Your crib? Not so much a bumper car. Stop driving it into the walls and dresser!
Love,
Mom-MOE

The Mimick Does Improv too!

2006-02-22T12:13:00.000-05:00

Thomas has been calling Daren "DaaaDoe" for some time now. We think it's cute that when he hears the key turn in the lock, he runs to the door, singing "DaaaaaaDoooeee! DaaaaaaDoooeee! DaaaaaaDoooeee!" Daren, of course, beams like a freaking lighthouse as he scoops him up into his arms.

Thomas has been mimicking and repeating everything. The other night we made him perform for us while we ate dinner. He was more interested in dipping chicken, potatoes and tomoates in salad dressing. If the salad dressing is on the table, he will reach and whine and cry for it until you douse his entire dinner in in like it's fondue. We have had to restrict his intake of salad dressing before he decided Catalina was his home and packed his bags to seek his roots.

In our efforts to get him to talk, we tried to get him to say his big brudder's name.

Me: "Thomas, say Dylan."

Thomas: "Dyl-ssssh."

Me: "No, say Dylan"

Thomas: "Dyl-sssshhhh."

Dylan: "Dyl-lan."

Thomas: "Dyl. Dyl. Dyl."

Me to Daren: "Okay, I guess it'll be Dyl Dyl for a while."

Thomas: "DyllllDOE."

Daren: "Nice work Mommy."

First Instant Message Conversation with My Papa

2006-02-21T19:31:00.000-05:00

Karen says: (this was actually Daren)
I hear you got one of them thar computer things.

(FIVE MINUTES PASS. I'm not kidding.)

Jerry says:
im trying to spell shit

Karen says:
Hi it's Karen here now - that was Daren before

Karen says:
and so you know - to spell shit - it's S-H-I-T.

End of conversation. I guess that's all he needed.

awards! awards! awards!

2006-02-21T09:03:00.000-05:00

How cool! There are alot of really talented blogging women over at CHBM and they voted for me for Member of the Week! They've asked me some questions, so check back later on to see when they post my answers:

I'm also honoured to find out I'm also a finalist at the Share the Love Blog Awards! These awards are proving to be a lot different than Blog Awards of days gone by. They were put together by an intelligent muthablogger who I've grown to adore. She's funny, and deserves an award herself. Thank you to whoever nominated me - that was really sweet of you and I'm really flattered by all the attention. I mean that from the bottom of my heart which is deep inside my body. Thanks to Beth and Amanda for letting me know about the awards!

Contest Winner Unveiled!

2006-02-21T00:29:00.000-05:00

Well the lovely Midwest, and the manly man Wombat, of Kiss and Blog won the Extreme Makeover Contest over at Troll Baby Graphics.

The transformation was fun. We worked over email, mostly Wombat and I, as Midwest is a jetsetting single professional and was away quite a bit. Midwest trusted Wombat and I to hammer out the details.

I ended up only changing the header after the inital feedback on the first design was in favour of the original font type and size. No matter, we got down to business again and made everything exactly what they wanted. I love the clean look, and although I didn't get to show off my skills as much as I would have liked to, I do believe we have a winner.

While working on Kiss & Blog, I read Wombat and Midwest's witty posts and I thoroughly enjoyed working with both of them. They truly are fantastic, down to earth types who can appeal to the masses like nobody's business! Whoever settles down with these two lovely bloggers will be very lucky and blessed.

Thank you Midwest and Wombat for the fun and for letting me play on your blog! It was my pleasure to work with you.

Cheers!
Karen

Tender Moments.... Oh and Poker.

2006-02-19T19:58:00.000-05:00

Well the overnight away was awesome, except we forgot the camera. Oh how I wish I had it for this trip! We left after lunch yesterday and travelled about an hour out to our friends' house. Tom and Daren have been best friends since they were 6 years old. When we all get together, it sometimes feels like we're all 6 years old again. We spent the night eating Chinese Food, drinking, and playing poker. Michelle is due with their first baby in the next few weeks and we talked alot about that. It brought back memories of when Daren had so diligently painted both Dylan's and Thomas' rooms before they were born. I hand sewed curtains for Dylan's room as the reality of a new family member set in. Those days seemed so full of simple pleasure and since Thomas' arrival the fun has only compounded. Well you know that. *wink wink* Oh and yes, we did name Thomas after Tom. They share alot of similar characteristics. Smelly farts, big burps, they both dress well, and neither one of them can play poker. Ha.

Thomas and Dylan had fun last night too. We ended up bringing Ruffy and she and Kady (T&M's dog) ran after each other through the house, circling Thomas in search of toddler crumbs and often spinning him like a pinball in a pinball machine. He, squealing and running after the two mutts, was out like a light by 6:30. Having missed his nap due to the excitement of driving (!) and attempting to sing along with all of us in the car, he was completely pooped by dinnertime, and it was a struggle to keep him awake as long as we did. The car ride certainly was a treat. Dylan had control of the MP3 player, which was plugged into the car stereo and we rocked it out to a crazy mixture of tunes I had thrown together months before. "This is How a Heart Breaks," by Rob Thomas, was one of Dylan's faves, as well as "Hey Ya," by Outkast. That child's ability to retain lyrics is uncanny. He knows every word to every song on that Mp3 player and I'm sure there is no less than 170 songs in that little peanut of technology. The best is listening to his country twang when he belts those babies out to Tim McGraw and Garth Brooks.

Once Thomas had gone to bed, the guys *taught* Michelle and I a few things about poker. In fact, they wouldn't stop talking and giving advice, that pretty soon, Michelle and I had outplayed their asses and they were finally silenced. They chalked up that first loss to beginner's luck, and began giving unsolicted advice once again. Because Michelle and I were quite random in what we were betting on, this kept both boys on their toes as they continued to brag about their World Poker Tour they were going to go on and of course, get rich from. Game #2 ended with Michelle and Tom duking it out and she won again. Clearly, Michelle should start her OWN World Poker Tour. You know, if they have daycare.

Today, the drive home was similar to the drive there, until I turned around to see Thomas' head leaned onto Dylan's shoulder, his eyes shut and his cheeks red and mouth lax. I looked at Dylan, he looked at his little brother, then smiled back at me. I glanced behind my own seat, to see Ruffy's head on Dylan's right arm, her eyes also shut. Dylan looked at her then back at me, and I could tell he knew he was surrounded by love, and that he was proud to be the one his little brother and sister leaned on.

ebb and flow....

2006-02-18T01:42:00.000-05:00

My thoughts have been everywhere lately. I'm feeling overwhelmed again, much like when PPD took hold. It scares me and I want to get out of this funk. February does this to me every year. This year is no different, as February began, I braced myself, much like at the top of the tallest part of a roller coaster, gripping the handrail and listening to my heart pound.

I'm restless. I'm feeling creative but it's constipated and I can't get it out. Almost like choking. I have drawings in my head but I feel stifled by stupid software and technical crap I can't wrap my head around.

Despite being happy, and grateful and appreciative in so many areas, my body is screaming for a break from the routine. I long for spring. For walks. For warmer air. For renewed love. Daren and I have been nattering at each other lately like a couple of old hens. I long for the end of the winter and the nattering and the tension.

I want to get through the next 12 days without going insane. In 12 days, Sassy arrives, with another great friend Nicole, and we will have such childish fun. I can't wait for that. In the meantime, I look around at the things left to do, to prepare for and I worry about stupid things like dustballs and dog hair. Isn't it funny, I never look at those tiny nuisances at other people's homes, but obsess over them before the arrival of friends. I want to scream at myself: "THEY ARE HERE TO SEE YOU - NOT THE HOUSE!" but I can't shake this feeling of having to be good enough. I've known these girls for 3 years....I met both of them online and met them in person several times (well Sassy once and Nicole at least 4-5 times since she lives closest.)

We will have pantloads of fun and an hour after they arrive I will forget the stupid house and just be. We will laugh hard, acting like 12 year olds, then diving into deeper subjects as we often do. We've leaned on each other several times over the last three years. True friendship is bliss.

On another note, the four of us leave Ruffy behind tomorrow for an overnight visit with other very good friends. Maybe I'll feel refreshed on Sunday. Have a great weekend everyone. I will be up and down for the next 12 days, so bear with me.

Poker? I hardly know her!

2006-02-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

Well my hubby was very lucky this Valentine's Day! I bought him a bottle of Pi (Givenchy) cologne, and a custom made poker table. The table arrived yesterday. (only 4 days of shipping from the States to Canada - holy shit!)

Oh. And WOW! This table is AWESOME!

Now he can play Texas Holdem with his buddies! Beer-drinking! Loud music! Fun fun fun!

(What was I thinking?)

Anyway - here's the table.......and here is where I got it. The service was kick-ass too! Thanks Steve! Now that I have a table, I should tell you, you really ought to charge more for these babies!

2006-02-16T13:12:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm not that SMRT.

2006-02-16T12:55:00.000-05:00

I gave you the wrong link to vote. It's here.

Sorry!

What?

2006-02-16T08:24:00.000-05:00

So I'm sitting here, working in my jammies (man I love my job), and Dora the Explorer is on for Thomas as it is every morning at 8. I'm only mildly annoyed by her voice, since I can't help but half-listen to her banter about the same things she does every episode.

Shoot the fox already Dora.

Yes you, Swiper.

So she's hanging out with a creepy, drunk King this morning. Not this King.

A King with a really bad Spanish accent. That irritating fox is lurking about and the King says, "What do I say to stop Swiper from swiping?"

Ah c'mon buddy, don't you watch the show, it's "Swiper no swiping!" Even *I* know that.

"Is it Swippy no swoppy?"

Bwwwhahahahaha....drunk King is SILLY.

Later in the show, no word of a lie, someone else says to the King, "and you even remembered your Corona!"

What? His what? They're pushing beer on children's t.v. shows now? Well at least I was right about the King being drunk.

I'm SMRT.

S.

M.

R.

T.

Go vote, bitches.

2006-02-15T13:00:00.000-05:00

I found out through my site meter that I've been nominated for in the Humour Catagory. Interesting way to find out, no?

So humour me. Ha.

And yes, I spelled Humour with an "O, U, R," because that is how it is spelled here in Canada.

~~Click on the button to vote. I think. It's not my button so I don't know.~~ Never mind. It doesn't work. I think if you just go here you mught have better luck.

Weirdness

2006-02-14T12:26:00.000-05:00

Do you know how freakin' strange it is to see your 70 something year old grandfather sign into Messenger?

Lemme tell ya, it's surreal. Wait 'till he finds out there's nekkid girls on the internet. Wait 'till my Granny finds out. I can already see her pulling him outta his chair by his ear.

He's going to drive her crazy. I can hear him now, "Shirley! Shirley! You gotta see this! There's videos! There's pictures of the kids! There's so much to read!"

"I'm making dinner Jerry, can't it wait?" She will be rolling her eyes.

"No! You have to come now! I may not be able to get back to this page. There's SO MANY PAGES on the internet!"

She'll trudge down to the computer and they'll both be sucked into the internet until dinner starts to smolder...

Yes Virginia, there is a high-speed connection.

Like we need yet another reason to avoid fast food...

2006-02-14T11:07:00.000-05:00

...reason #421 why I don't like fast food.

Six Degrees of Separation

2006-02-14T09:28:00.000-05:00

So all your Valentine's are written out?

Yup. I made one for my teacher too. A special one.

Did you make a special one for Alexis?

Moooommmm....(rolling his eyes)

Well I thought you liked her.

You know what Mom?

What honey?

Brendon told me that she said she loves me.

How do you feel about that?

I love her too.

Well then shouldn't you make her a special Valentine?

No.

Why not?

I don't know.

Okay. (pause) So she loves you and you love her?

Yeah.

Is she your girlfriend?

Yeah.

Does she know that?

I haven't told her yet.

Oh. Have you kissed her?

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!! That is SO gross!

So what makes her your girlfriend?

Well I just hafta tell Brendon, and he will tell Greg and Greg will tell Natalie, and Natalie will tell Alexis.

It's that simple eh?

Yeah. But she should probably know.

Yes Dylan, I suppose she should know.

16 Year Old Shiznit

2006-02-13T20:45:00.000-05:00

My 16 year old cousin Jessica is the shiznit. Really. She is amazing. And now the lovely people at I Talk 2 Much have given her a sweet review. I already knew Jessica was all of those wonderful things, but it was nice to see her get recognized for her writing ability. She's a special young person, that is for sure. Now go over there to her blog and show her some love, will ya!?

Congratulations Jessica!
Love Karen

Dead Dog Walking

2006-02-13T13:23:00.000-05:00

Next owner should have limitless supply of Goldfish crackers, hugs, kisses, snuggles on the couch, water and dog food. But ABSOLUTELY NO CARPET. Apparently this dog has a death wish. I let her out THREE times this morning. That's twice more than usual. I just don't get it.

I came out of the shower to a huge puddle on the brand new family room carpet. WTF? I am seriously considering giving this beast up for adoption. This isn't the first time she's done this. Just the first time in about six months. Is it the change in the house? Marking her territory?

I've so had it. Dylan will cry, Daren will protest, but I really do not need this. FOUR YEARS of cleaning up her messes. She was really good for about a year and a half, then one accident about a month ago and now this.

Sigh.

Aids Awareness Video - NSFW/Not for Kids

2006-02-13T10:34:00.000-05:00

Just in time for Valentine's Day.

Video - NOT SAFE FOR CHILDREN OR WORK.

It Takes a Community to Raise a Child

2006-02-13T07:49:00.000-05:00

How involved are you with the kids in your neighbourhood? Does everyone pretty much keep to themselves or do people give each other's kids shit when they are doing something wrong?

My friends and I have a kind of unwritten rule that we all have the right to say something when one of our kids is acting out (like smashing another kid over the head with a toy, throwing ice balls, whatever.) We all have the same(ish) parenting style, so it works. There are slight differences, like some of my friends believe it's okay to spank their children, and Daren and I don't. I am not questioning anyone elses parenting choices as I deserve the same respect. So this little arrangement works for my friends and our family.

What about kids I don't know? Wellll.....I live in a neighbourhood that has a little "cross-section" of people, who for the most part, don't give a shit about what their kids are up to. I'm sugar-coating here, and if you don't get it. Take a second. I'll wait.

I've given kids shit for littering, stealing, for destruction of property, and for bullying. Now don't think I'm the crazy bitch on the corner yelling at all the kids going by. I've also ran outside with cold compresses, bandaids, juice boxes, and sadly, an ear just to listen when one little girl told me through tears about her stepdad breaking her mother's finger. I've had my heart broken a few times with some of these kids. I worry for them.

The other night I watched as two underaged teens walked by my house with a case of beer. I smiled. I remembered being underage and walking to parties with beer several times. I did nothing about it. Yes, I know it's illegal. I also know how much fun I had. Would you have done anything?

This should be interesting...

2006-02-11T21:08:00.000-05:00

My grandparents just got a computer. I gave them the link to my blog. The last three out of four posts reference penises. That really not what's it's all about Papa and Granny, I swear!!

I'm 31 but all of a sudden I feel 15 again. Like when my Granny had gone out for the evening and I *thought* my Papa was asleep in the downstairs family room, so I snuck outside for a smoke. The patio door flew open a minute later and my Papa asked me, "What are you doing?"

"NOTHING!" I stood wide-eyed, as the cigarette smoke poured out of my mouth.

"Get in the house and don't tell your grandmother," he said calmly. We never spoke a word about it.

Fortunately, my grandparents are super duper cool. They raised me when I was an ungrateful, mouthy teenager, and turned me into a respectable, (a-little-less-mouthy) adult. I can talk to them about anything and I've always had an extra special place in my heart for the both of them.

Papa taught me how to burp a frog on a fish hook, so he would expel the gas in his belly and sink; how to take the head off a snake with a shovel, especially the buggers that were in my Granny's rock garden at the cottage - she was terrified of them; how to make pancakes that are "so light they float away"; and most importantly, that a true man takes care of his family, and respects his wife. I don't think I would have married Daren without this knowledge.

Granny taught me the delicate art of cross stitch; to iron a shirt so stiff it could walk; to make a bed, every morning, not just when company is coming, taking pride in what I did; to be creative in everything I do; to appreciate what I had; and to love unconditionally, despite the hand I'd been dealt.

I can't thank them both enough for bringing up someone who is proud to stand on her own two feet. Thank you both for being the most amazing two people on the face of this earth.

I love you, Granny and Papa.

I LOVE SPAM!!!!!!!!

2006-02-10T13:09:00.000-05:00

SAD TO HAVE SHORT D1CCK, BIGGER 2" NOW AT LOW friends

1:02 pm (6 minutes ago)

studied disappoint yours my appearance black.
carefully across taught night. very suddenly benefit happened use fire.
off next drew anything letters fascinate?
end money pretty happened side did, mentioned wrong corner reply teach you? turning wanted back benefit profession respect?
different he is gym? wrong evening goes black edge find.

That's a lot of questions.

Can the terrible twos start at 19 months?

2006-02-10T09:42:00.000-05:00

Troll Baby just threw a hissy fit of monsterous proportions. We're talking red-faced, throwing body to the floor, crying and screaming, flailing arms and legs, head spinning, teeth gashing, turning green and ripping his clothes off as his muscles grew and his knuckles got all hairy.

When he stopped spinning me over his head and I fell to the floor after being thrown against the wall, I promptly got up, gave him his crack cocaine (Read: Baby Einstein Video and Sippy Cup with Milk), and all is right with the world again. Whew.

UPDATE on Penis Man

2006-02-09T18:47:00.000-05:00

UPDATE: According to Dylan, this toy has a "third leg" because he came with a boat, and apparently his "third leg" fits into a hole in that boat to keep him in it.

I know if *I* had a penis, I'd attach myself to a boat with it.