It's Monday morning (hey, 11:20 can still be considered morning, lol), I'm sitting here in my jammies, got a hot cup of coffee going, and I'm in the process of downloading the newest version of iTunes on the computer so I can set up Ardan's new iPod (that he got from Gramma #1). I've kicked all the kids downstairs (not literally, of course!) so I can have some peace and quiet. Life is great.
I can happily say that, for me, the Christmas rush is now over and I can finally R-E-L-A-X. We've had a week of non-stop cleaning and cooking, visiting, presents, eating, visiting, more presents, and more eating. I resemble the huge turkey we had for Christmas dinner. My pants are tight (not that I'm wearing any, but I mean when I DO) and my house is a disaster. And you know what? I don't care!
Today is my designated day for just chillin' out. I've done a load of laundry and two loads of dishes, so I consider that my token cleaning for the day. I do have plans to "do" my room today, I'm actually looking forward to it. This last week, my room became the storage area for anything I didn't feel like putting away before company came over. I have three hampers of clean, folded clothes that need to be put away in my disaster of a closet. My dresser and Tyler's are covered with boxes and bags of presents we've gotten. Cleaning my bedroom is usually low on the priority totem pole, mainly because only us two see it and we don't care if its a mess.
There was one moment of mortification over the holidays when, on Christmas Eve day Mom and Trapper came over to help me wrap presents. Between the three of us, it took two hours but we got every last gift wrapped. It was awesome! Trapper and Mom, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. That was the first time EVER, in probably ten years, that I haven't been up till the wee hours of the morning, frantically wrapping gifts. It was such a relief! That is, until I said, "Wait, I have to show you guys something before you leave!" and ran to my closet to get the SS's (not gonna spell that one out for you in case one of the kids reads this). I went into my room, waded through the boxes and bags and hampers, etc on the floor, opened my closet, pulled out the stuff, turned around --- and there was Trapper! He'd followed me in to my room! ACK!
"What the hell are you doing in here!? Get out of my den of sin!" I squealed, totally mortified. He just laughed, "Its not so bad!" YEAH, RIGHT!
So yeah, we had a really great Christmas. I'm sure glad its over, though! Now I just have to get through this next week of the boys' vacation from school...
Monday, December 29, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
The Cherished Ones
Yesterday's post about sharks, considering them from a different viewpoint, got me remembering another story I've read that really made an impact on me and changed my point of view about something.
Now, you all know that my brothers and I grew up in a household where mentally challenged people were considered "God's special ones". My mom worked (still works) at Michener Centre, so of course she was (and is) very sensitive about how they are viewed and treated by others. In our household, the word "retarded" was an absolute no-no, considered WORSE than the other swear words. In fact, at a slumber party one time one of my friends stupidly used that word, even after I'd warned everyone about using derogatory words like that, and my mom nicely gave that kid a lecture ('nicely' because I could tell she wanted to smack her, haha).
So all my life, I've thought of mentally challenged people differently than most people, and Down Syndromes were no different. But this story I read gave me an even more different viewpoint.
The story (Dark Seduction by Kathleen Korbel) was about Sorcha, the daughter of Queen Mab, queen of the fairies. She was sent to our world to retrieve a special stone and in the process fell in love with a man, Harry. The stone was reported to have been last seen in the possession of this family, so Sorcha spent her time on our side at Harry's castle (he lived in Ireland, of course), getting to know his family, etc. Harry's niece, Lilly, had Down Syndrome. Here is the excerpt from Sorcha's first meeting with her.
"'Lo!" Lilly called, leaning toward Sorcha. "'Lo! 'Lo!"
Harry stiffened. Sorcha caught sight of the little girl in his arms and her eyes went soft.
"Well, and what a great honor this ," she said, stepping closer. "Would you greet this unworthy soul?"
Fury hit Harry like a blast. "Don't you dare," he snapped. "Lilly isn't up to your nonsense."
"Ah, you think I'm after insulting your kin again, don't you, Harry Wyatt?" she asked, reaching out her arms for Lilly.
Lilly, of course, went right into them.
"Lilly has--"
"You call it Down syndrome," Sorcha said softly, wrapping her arms around Lilly. "I know. And you think I would hurt a child who is so precious to the fair folk?"
"Precious?" Phyl asked, her voice small. [Phyl is Lilly's mother]
Sorcha's smile was pure sunlight. "Sure, what do we of the fair folk revere more than pure joy? And where could you find another mortal who could never lose their joy? These cherished ones are the only children who will never grow too old to see us. And they are welcome as revered friends in the land of faerie."
Harry opened his mouth, certain he had something scathing to say. He couldn't get it past the sudden inexplicable lump in his throat. Alongside him, Phyl actually had tears in her eyes. As for Lilly, she'd caught Sorcha's face between her pudgy little hands and kissed her on her nose.
"'Lo, fairy!" she cried.
Harry's heart damn near stopped beating entirely.
"Hello, my cherished friend," Sorcha said, returning the kiss for another bright laugh from Lilly. "And what is your name?"
"Lilly!" she crowed, although no one but the family could interpret it, because of all the L's she still had trouble with.
No one except Sorcha, evidently. "Lilly," she repeated, nodding. "Ah, that's brilliant, isn't it? A lovely flower in a beautiful garden. Are you a flower, my Lilly?"
Lilly preened like a debutante. "Flow-er! Mama, I'm a flower!"
"But of course you are, my love," Phyl said. "Haven't I told you all along?"
Here's another excerpt, Sorcha is out at the stables (the horses are all enchanted with her, of course) and she's helping the older children ride the horses:
That was when Harry saw Lilly. There she was, standing at the fence, her little helmet dangling from her pudgy hands, looking as lost and yearning as he'd ever seen.
"Me," she whimpered, almost to herself. "Me."
There were tears on her face. Ah, damn it. He couldn't stand it. He took a step toward her, but Sorcha must have seen her.
"Ah, mo chroidhe," she crooned, swinging off the great bay and setting Bea down before her. "What is it, now?"
Lilly pointed her pudgy little hand toward where Theo trotted happily atop Starchild. "Ride," she said in a hopeless tone. "Lone."
Sorcha hopped the fence and sat right down at the little girl's feet. "You're wanting to ride, then?"
"She can't, Sorcha," Phyl said. "Not alone. It's too dangerous."
Sorcha looked up, saw Phyl, then saw Harry and bestowed a gleaming smile on him. "Ah, well, that might not be true," she disagreed. "Has she been atop one of the ladies yet?"
"Of course not," Harry said. "Not without one of us holding on to her. She doesn't have the fine motor coordination. She'll never--"
Sorcha waved him off and settled the helmet on Lilly's head. "It's just a matter of asking, Harry Wyatt."
And she walked Lilly to where Starchaser stood patiently waiting by the side of the fence.
"Now then, mo stoir," Sorcha said, buckling the helmet on and lifting the little girl into her arms. "What do you say to this fine, gracious lady?"
Harry knew he should interfere, but he couldn't seem to move. Next to him, Phyl grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Harry..."
"Please," Lilly said in a piping voice, her little hand flat against Chaser's dark gray muzzle. "Carry me."
The horse actually lifted her head, as if considering the little girl.
"Ogbheann," Sorcha crooned with a regal dip of her head, "I ask your favor for this wee sprite here. You see the great heart of her, the pure spirit of her. I give you the greatest honor a fairy can, the chance to guard one of the cherished ones. Will you carry her, then, with all the care you would your queen?"
The horse held still. Everyone in the yard held still, except Lilly, who chortled as she ran her hand down the horse's nose. Then, unbelievably, Chaser bowed her head, as if in obeisance. Before Harry could protest, Sorcha had Lilly on the horse's bare back and was wrapping her pudgy little hands on the filly's mane.
"Now then, mo aoibheann," she was saying to the little girl, "you hold on here, and your lovely friend will do the rest. All right?"
Lilly nodded enthusiastically and Sorcha let go.
"No!" Phyl cried, and started running.
Harry followed right behind. But before they could reach the fence, Chaser set off in the most amazing stately trot he'd ever seen. She moved over the ground as if gliding on ice. Lilly, her little legs sticking almost straight out, held on to Chaser's mane as if she'd done it her whole life, and rode her like a rocking horse.
"Get her off, Harry," Phyl insisted. "She'll fall."
"Ah, no," Sorcha said, walking over. "I swear an oath, that as long as it's your Starchaser who has her, she'll be perfectly safe. Sure, a fairy horse would rather die than harm a cherished one."
"She is not a bloody fairy horse!" Harry said, trying to step past.
Sorcha took hold of his sleeve. Harry spun on her, ready to fight. Then he heard it, and his heart tumbled right over. Lilly, who just moments ago had been standing alone, left behind by what everybody but she could accomplish, what she ached to do, called to him.
"Ha--rry!" she cried, her little voice shrill with delight. "I ride! I ride!"
And then she was laughing. The pure, sweet notes of it skipped through the air like a melody. The horses stopped, each one. Stable boys stepped outside to see and smile. Somehow Harry knew that even his grandmother had heard from her room.
"Yes, my piglet!" Harry called back, his voice rough. "You ride!"
She rode all alone, and she was so happy the sun shone. And seeing that, Harry suddenly wasn't sure what he'd thought could have been dangerous. Chaser literally floated across the ground, carrying that little girl like a precious gift on a cushion, and Lilly, perched motionless atop her, absolutely gleamed.
"Oh...my...God, Harry," Phyl whispered.
"Mama!" Lilly cried out. "See me!"
Phyl was in tears. "Yes, my love. Yes!"
Skip forward a few paragraphs...
"Ah, Harry," Sorcha said with a beaming smile, "I know Saoirce is one of your most lovely horses, but you see, don't you, that she's Lilly's horse?"
"Saoirce?" Phyl asked.
"Her real name, so. Her fairy name. It means Freedom."
Harry was nodding, wiping tears from his own cheeks. "Lilly!" he called. "How do you like your very own horse?"
At his words, Chaser came to a fluid stop right in front of him and waited as the little girl carefully unwrapped a hand and patted her. "Mine!" she crowed.
"Indeed," Harry assured her. "All yours. Saoirce doesn't mind?"
He knew Phyl was staring at him as if his hair was afire. He didn't care. He couldn't think of anything he'd accomplished in his life as satisfying as this.
"Saoirce says it would be her great honor," Sorcha said.
As if in emphasis, Chaser--Saoirce--carefully bent a knee and lowered her head, as if paying homage.
"Then Lilly's horse she is."
And lastly, an excerpt from the end of the book... (I don't know why there's suddenly huge gaps between each line, I did something while typing I guess, that changed line space-age.)
Now, you all know that my brothers and I grew up in a household where mentally challenged people were considered "God's special ones". My mom worked (still works) at Michener Centre, so of course she was (and is) very sensitive about how they are viewed and treated by others. In our household, the word "retarded" was an absolute no-no, considered WORSE than the other swear words. In fact, at a slumber party one time one of my friends stupidly used that word, even after I'd warned everyone about using derogatory words like that, and my mom nicely gave that kid a lecture ('nicely' because I could tell she wanted to smack her, haha).
So all my life, I've thought of mentally challenged people differently than most people, and Down Syndromes were no different. But this story I read gave me an even more different viewpoint.
The story (Dark Seduction by Kathleen Korbel) was about Sorcha, the daughter of Queen Mab, queen of the fairies. She was sent to our world to retrieve a special stone and in the process fell in love with a man, Harry. The stone was reported to have been last seen in the possession of this family, so Sorcha spent her time on our side at Harry's castle (he lived in Ireland, of course), getting to know his family, etc. Harry's niece, Lilly, had Down Syndrome. Here is the excerpt from Sorcha's first meeting with her.
"'Lo!" Lilly called, leaning toward Sorcha. "'Lo! 'Lo!"
Harry stiffened. Sorcha caught sight of the little girl in his arms and her eyes went soft.
"Well, and what a great honor this ," she said, stepping closer. "Would you greet this unworthy soul?"
Fury hit Harry like a blast. "Don't you dare," he snapped. "Lilly isn't up to your nonsense."
"Ah, you think I'm after insulting your kin again, don't you, Harry Wyatt?" she asked, reaching out her arms for Lilly.
Lilly, of course, went right into them.
"Lilly has--"
"You call it Down syndrome," Sorcha said softly, wrapping her arms around Lilly. "I know. And you think I would hurt a child who is so precious to the fair folk?"
"Precious?" Phyl asked, her voice small. [Phyl is Lilly's mother]
Sorcha's smile was pure sunlight. "Sure, what do we of the fair folk revere more than pure joy? And where could you find another mortal who could never lose their joy? These cherished ones are the only children who will never grow too old to see us. And they are welcome as revered friends in the land of faerie."
Harry opened his mouth, certain he had something scathing to say. He couldn't get it past the sudden inexplicable lump in his throat. Alongside him, Phyl actually had tears in her eyes. As for Lilly, she'd caught Sorcha's face between her pudgy little hands and kissed her on her nose.
"'Lo, fairy!" she cried.
Harry's heart damn near stopped beating entirely.
"Hello, my cherished friend," Sorcha said, returning the kiss for another bright laugh from Lilly. "And what is your name?"
"Lilly!" she crowed, although no one but the family could interpret it, because of all the L's she still had trouble with.
No one except Sorcha, evidently. "Lilly," she repeated, nodding. "Ah, that's brilliant, isn't it? A lovely flower in a beautiful garden. Are you a flower, my Lilly?"
Lilly preened like a debutante. "Flow-er! Mama, I'm a flower!"
"But of course you are, my love," Phyl said. "Haven't I told you all along?"
Here's another excerpt, Sorcha is out at the stables (the horses are all enchanted with her, of course) and she's helping the older children ride the horses:
That was when Harry saw Lilly. There she was, standing at the fence, her little helmet dangling from her pudgy hands, looking as lost and yearning as he'd ever seen.
"Me," she whimpered, almost to herself. "Me."
There were tears on her face. Ah, damn it. He couldn't stand it. He took a step toward her, but Sorcha must have seen her.
"Ah, mo chroidhe," she crooned, swinging off the great bay and setting Bea down before her. "What is it, now?"
Lilly pointed her pudgy little hand toward where Theo trotted happily atop Starchild. "Ride," she said in a hopeless tone. "Lone."
Sorcha hopped the fence and sat right down at the little girl's feet. "You're wanting to ride, then?"
"She can't, Sorcha," Phyl said. "Not alone. It's too dangerous."
Sorcha looked up, saw Phyl, then saw Harry and bestowed a gleaming smile on him. "Ah, well, that might not be true," she disagreed. "Has she been atop one of the ladies yet?"
"Of course not," Harry said. "Not without one of us holding on to her. She doesn't have the fine motor coordination. She'll never--"
Sorcha waved him off and settled the helmet on Lilly's head. "It's just a matter of asking, Harry Wyatt."
And she walked Lilly to where Starchaser stood patiently waiting by the side of the fence.
"Now then, mo stoir," Sorcha said, buckling the helmet on and lifting the little girl into her arms. "What do you say to this fine, gracious lady?"
Harry knew he should interfere, but he couldn't seem to move. Next to him, Phyl grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Harry..."
"Please," Lilly said in a piping voice, her little hand flat against Chaser's dark gray muzzle. "Carry me."
The horse actually lifted her head, as if considering the little girl.
"Ogbheann," Sorcha crooned with a regal dip of her head, "I ask your favor for this wee sprite here. You see the great heart of her, the pure spirit of her. I give you the greatest honor a fairy can, the chance to guard one of the cherished ones. Will you carry her, then, with all the care you would your queen?"
The horse held still. Everyone in the yard held still, except Lilly, who chortled as she ran her hand down the horse's nose. Then, unbelievably, Chaser bowed her head, as if in obeisance. Before Harry could protest, Sorcha had Lilly on the horse's bare back and was wrapping her pudgy little hands on the filly's mane.
"Now then, mo aoibheann," she was saying to the little girl, "you hold on here, and your lovely friend will do the rest. All right?"
Lilly nodded enthusiastically and Sorcha let go.
"No!" Phyl cried, and started running.
Harry followed right behind. But before they could reach the fence, Chaser set off in the most amazing stately trot he'd ever seen. She moved over the ground as if gliding on ice. Lilly, her little legs sticking almost straight out, held on to Chaser's mane as if she'd done it her whole life, and rode her like a rocking horse.
"Get her off, Harry," Phyl insisted. "She'll fall."
"Ah, no," Sorcha said, walking over. "I swear an oath, that as long as it's your Starchaser who has her, she'll be perfectly safe. Sure, a fairy horse would rather die than harm a cherished one."
"She is not a bloody fairy horse!" Harry said, trying to step past.
Sorcha took hold of his sleeve. Harry spun on her, ready to fight. Then he heard it, and his heart tumbled right over. Lilly, who just moments ago had been standing alone, left behind by what everybody but she could accomplish, what she ached to do, called to him.
"Ha--rry!" she cried, her little voice shrill with delight. "I ride! I ride!"
And then she was laughing. The pure, sweet notes of it skipped through the air like a melody. The horses stopped, each one. Stable boys stepped outside to see and smile. Somehow Harry knew that even his grandmother had heard from her room.
"Yes, my piglet!" Harry called back, his voice rough. "You ride!"
She rode all alone, and she was so happy the sun shone. And seeing that, Harry suddenly wasn't sure what he'd thought could have been dangerous. Chaser literally floated across the ground, carrying that little girl like a precious gift on a cushion, and Lilly, perched motionless atop her, absolutely gleamed.
"Oh...my...God, Harry," Phyl whispered.
"Mama!" Lilly cried out. "See me!"
Phyl was in tears. "Yes, my love. Yes!"
Skip forward a few paragraphs...
"Ah, Harry," Sorcha said with a beaming smile, "I know Saoirce is one of your most lovely horses, but you see, don't you, that she's Lilly's horse?"
"Saoirce?" Phyl asked.
"Her real name, so. Her fairy name. It means Freedom."
Harry was nodding, wiping tears from his own cheeks. "Lilly!" he called. "How do you like your very own horse?"
At his words, Chaser came to a fluid stop right in front of him and waited as the little girl carefully unwrapped a hand and patted her. "Mine!" she crowed.
"Indeed," Harry assured her. "All yours. Saoirce doesn't mind?"
He knew Phyl was staring at him as if his hair was afire. He didn't care. He couldn't think of anything he'd accomplished in his life as satisfying as this.
"Saoirce says it would be her great honor," Sorcha said.
As if in emphasis, Chaser--Saoirce--carefully bent a knee and lowered her head, as if paying homage.
"Then Lilly's horse she is."
And lastly, an excerpt from the end of the book... (I don't know why there's suddenly huge gaps between each line, I did something while typing I guess, that changed line space-age.)
Harry couldn't think. Suddenly the rock was heavy in his hands. Impossibly large, if it was, in fact, a diamond.
"And she has a few more, as well," Sorcha said. "She doesn't want the cherished one to ever find herself in need, Harry. I'm thinking she found the way to do it."
"Lilly isn't the only cherished one, Sorcha."
"Oh, aye, that we know. But she's crossed the world of fairy, and when that happens, she becomes a thread in our weave. We are obliged to protect her."
As if to punctuate Sorcha's words, the queen was even then standing to raise a hand to Lilly's horse, who was literally kneeling before her.
"I honor you, my lovely Soairce," the queen proclaimed, "and make official my daughter's choice of you as guardian for this cherished one. Your name will be linked to hers in the rolls of honor."
Harry was sure the horse shivered. She bent her head to receive the queen's benediction, and Lilly laughed in pure delight. Harry looked back at the glittering egg in his hand. "Good sweet God," he breathed. The thing had to be worth millions.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sharks: Another viewpoint
I was reading a story the other day called 'Soul of the Sea' by Alison Paige, about a mermaid and the human she falls in love with. A great story but what I found really interesting was some of the information given about merpeople and their life in the sea. They think of the sea as "The Lady" and of course, they feel a strong connection to Her. Some merpeople though, have a much stronger connection to Her, almost an obsession. Here's an excerpt:
“The Lady is a powerful seductress. Many of our men lose themselves to her. They stroll into the waters and allow their love of her to transform them, to change their bodies so they can worship her forever and always without end, without rest. They never stop swimming, never stop searching for her heart, aching for her embrace, protecting her from all who’d come between them.”
“Sharks,” he said.
“Yes.” She swung her gaze to him, amazed he understood so quickly.
Isn't that cool? Makes you think differently about sharks, doesn't it?
“The Lady is a powerful seductress. Many of our men lose themselves to her. They stroll into the waters and allow their love of her to transform them, to change their bodies so they can worship her forever and always without end, without rest. They never stop swimming, never stop searching for her heart, aching for her embrace, protecting her from all who’d come between them.”
“Sharks,” he said.
“Yes.” She swung her gaze to him, amazed he understood so quickly.
Isn't that cool? Makes you think differently about sharks, doesn't it?
Wow, did I raise him right or what?! LOL
So I came across an unfinished scrapbooking photo album last night, it was about half done. The pics were all Gunnar's baby pics, like when he was brand spankin' new, we're talking crossed-eyes and everything. As the kids and I are flipping through it, 'aawwww'-ing and giggling, we came across a pic of me, fresh from labor, absolutely beaming as I held my new baby boy.
(Of course, I'm thinking, "Why did I keep that horrible picture! I'm so red-faced and sweaty! Ugh!")
Ardan exclaims, "Wow Mom, you look exactly the same as now!" I paused for a moment, wasn't sure if I should be offended, then asked a bit reluctantly (you never know what's gonna come out of their mouth), "What do you mean?"
"You still look that young! You look exactly the same!"
Phew! I grabbed that kid and gave him a huge bear hug, "Kid, you just made my decade! I think you might just be #1 now!" Of course, the other two weren't impressed upon hearing that, haha. Told them they're gonna have to be pretty complimentary to me for the next year to top that one!
What a kid!
(Of course, I'm thinking, "Why did I keep that horrible picture! I'm so red-faced and sweaty! Ugh!")
Ardan exclaims, "Wow Mom, you look exactly the same as now!" I paused for a moment, wasn't sure if I should be offended, then asked a bit reluctantly (you never know what's gonna come out of their mouth), "What do you mean?"
"You still look that young! You look exactly the same!"
Phew! I grabbed that kid and gave him a huge bear hug, "Kid, you just made my decade! I think you might just be #1 now!" Of course, the other two weren't impressed upon hearing that, haha. Told them they're gonna have to be pretty complimentary to me for the next year to top that one!
What a kid!
Gunnar as 'Rock Gibraltar'
So Gunnar's Christmas concert was Tuesday night, he was sooo awesome in his role as the "egocentric, grandiose" sports reporter, Rock Gibraltar. Spoke nice and clear, didn't miss a cue, and he looked awesome. For some reason, they let him wear his favorite cap, backwards of course (gotta look cool). When Hubs saw this pic (he'd stayed home with Ryder, THANK GOD) he was like, "Why is Gunnar wearing a dress?" -- MEN! New pics of kids
Cuba kids, aren't they adorable? 
Love this pic, aren't my boys so handsome?(The hair in Lena's eye drives me nuts, though, lol!)
Monday, December 15, 2008
And the winner for the World's Worst Mother Ever is....!
I seriously debated whether or not to do this post. I know when the "event" that got me nominated in the first place occurred, I told everyone there "Well, at least I have another blog post out of this!" But afterwards, when the crushing guilt and shame abated (it will NEVER go away though, I'll carry this in my heart forever), I was so embarrassed, so humiliated that I didn't want all you readers to know. But then I thought that this could be a lesson for all you parents out there, so you would never do what I did, or if you have done this, maybe you wouldn't feel so bad because there's another dummy out there who's done the same.
So let's call the event my "Home Alone" moment. Here's what happened...
It was Friday night, Family Dinner night to all us family members. Tyler had come home from work early that day and had taken Milena out for a long quad ride around town. They were gone about an hour. After they came home, Lena went straight for a nap. Around that time, the boys came home from school, Ardan got ready for hockey practice as he had to leave in half an hour. Tyler took him to the arena and I stayed home with the three kids. Ryder woke up from his nap (Lena was still sleeping) and Gunnar and I puttered around.
Around 5:45, I realized we needed to get our butts in motion so we wouldn't be late for FD. We were rushing around, I remembered I had to bring a few things for Levi to take to Trapper up in Edmonton. Went out, got the vehicle warmed up, loaded everything in. Got Ryder all dressed in his winter gear, Gunnar and I got our stuff on, and away we went!
We got to my mom's, took off all our stuff, and got busy with visiting and chatting. After being there for about ten minutes, my mom said, "Everyone, come out to the livingroom and look at my tree! Kids! Come on! Hey, where's Lena?"
OMFG!!!!! WHERE THE HELL WAS LENA?!?!
Back at home, sleeping soundly in her bed.
I totally did the "KEVIN!!" thing from Home Alone -- slapped my hands to my face, totally horrified, screamed, "LENA!! I left her at home sleeping! Holy shit!"
Meanwhile, everyone is laughing hysterically at me. I threw my coat back on, grabbed my keys, on my mad run out to the vehicle I slipped on the deadly patch of ice in front of my mom's garage and did a facer into the huge snowdrift, jumped back up covered in snow head-to-toe, and raced back home. The whole time I was screaming at myself, "Stupid! Worst mother EVER! How the hell could you do that? OHMYGOD Tyler and Ardan are coming back from hockey! Shit! Ohgod, please let me get there before they do! Please let her still be sleeping and not crying hysterically or out wandering outside looking for me!"
Got home (Tyler wasn't there yet), raced inside, woke Lena up from a sound sleep, shoved her body into some warm clothes, carried her outside to the vehicle still half-asleep, and raced back to mom's, taking the other way around the block so if Tyler was coming he wouldn't see me leaving.
Got back to mom's, threw open the door, "The World's Worst Mother Ever is back!" -- and there were Tyler and Ardan. "Huh, what do you mean by that?" Here, they'd shown up just as I'd left, and my entire family covered for me when Tyler wondered why Ryder and Gunnar were there but I wasn't ("Oh, she had to go home because she forgot something"). So if I would have kept my trap shut I could have got off scot-free but no. I then had to explain to my husband that yes, I had left my sleeping 3-year old home alone and that was why I was the World's Worst Mother Ever. He actually took it surprisingly well.
So there you have it. I've definitely done many many things over these past ten years that qualified me for World's Worst Mother Ever, but this certain "event" brought me home the trophy.
What about you guys? Anyone else have a horror story to tell and make me feel a little better about myself?
So let's call the event my "Home Alone" moment. Here's what happened...
It was Friday night, Family Dinner night to all us family members. Tyler had come home from work early that day and had taken Milena out for a long quad ride around town. They were gone about an hour. After they came home, Lena went straight for a nap. Around that time, the boys came home from school, Ardan got ready for hockey practice as he had to leave in half an hour. Tyler took him to the arena and I stayed home with the three kids. Ryder woke up from his nap (Lena was still sleeping) and Gunnar and I puttered around.
Around 5:45, I realized we needed to get our butts in motion so we wouldn't be late for FD. We were rushing around, I remembered I had to bring a few things for Levi to take to Trapper up in Edmonton. Went out, got the vehicle warmed up, loaded everything in. Got Ryder all dressed in his winter gear, Gunnar and I got our stuff on, and away we went!
We got to my mom's, took off all our stuff, and got busy with visiting and chatting. After being there for about ten minutes, my mom said, "Everyone, come out to the livingroom and look at my tree! Kids! Come on! Hey, where's Lena?"
OMFG!!!!! WHERE THE HELL WAS LENA?!?!
Back at home, sleeping soundly in her bed.
I totally did the "KEVIN!!" thing from Home Alone -- slapped my hands to my face, totally horrified, screamed, "LENA!! I left her at home sleeping! Holy shit!"
Meanwhile, everyone is laughing hysterically at me. I threw my coat back on, grabbed my keys, on my mad run out to the vehicle I slipped on the deadly patch of ice in front of my mom's garage and did a facer into the huge snowdrift, jumped back up covered in snow head-to-toe, and raced back home. The whole time I was screaming at myself, "Stupid! Worst mother EVER! How the hell could you do that? OHMYGOD Tyler and Ardan are coming back from hockey! Shit! Ohgod, please let me get there before they do! Please let her still be sleeping and not crying hysterically or out wandering outside looking for me!"
Got home (Tyler wasn't there yet), raced inside, woke Lena up from a sound sleep, shoved her body into some warm clothes, carried her outside to the vehicle still half-asleep, and raced back to mom's, taking the other way around the block so if Tyler was coming he wouldn't see me leaving.
Got back to mom's, threw open the door, "The World's Worst Mother Ever is back!" -- and there were Tyler and Ardan. "Huh, what do you mean by that?" Here, they'd shown up just as I'd left, and my entire family covered for me when Tyler wondered why Ryder and Gunnar were there but I wasn't ("Oh, she had to go home because she forgot something"). So if I would have kept my trap shut I could have got off scot-free but no. I then had to explain to my husband that yes, I had left my sleeping 3-year old home alone and that was why I was the World's Worst Mother Ever. He actually took it surprisingly well.
So there you have it. I've definitely done many many things over these past ten years that qualified me for World's Worst Mother Ever, but this certain "event" brought me home the trophy.
What about you guys? Anyone else have a horror story to tell and make me feel a little better about myself?
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Hostage, Pt. 2
So I literally like just went downstairs to sneakily invade MY laundry room and see just what is going on in there. Imagine my utter horror to open the door and immediately see the FREAKIN' HUGE pile of clothes, on the GD floor!!
Okay, so yes, thank you Tyler for doing those few loads of laundry for me before you started on your own. Would it have been to much to ask you to fold them?!? Oh no, I guess that's not manly. Instead, he just took the clothes out of the dryer and threw them in a pile! So he did three loads of laundry for me apparently, and there was a pile on the floor the size of Everest! It took me half an hour to fold them all. Ooooo, I was mad!
So in revenge, I hauled the three hampers of laundry that have already been created these last two days and plopped them down right in front of the washer. Ha HAH! Hope the stench invades his hunting stuff.
Okay, so yes, thank you Tyler for doing those few loads of laundry for me before you started on your own. Would it have been to much to ask you to fold them?!? Oh no, I guess that's not manly. Instead, he just took the clothes out of the dryer and threw them in a pile! So he did three loads of laundry for me apparently, and there was a pile on the floor the size of Everest! It took me half an hour to fold them all. Ooooo, I was mad!
So in revenge, I hauled the three hampers of laundry that have already been created these last two days and plopped them down right in front of the washer. Ha HAH! Hope the stench invades his hunting stuff.
My Guardian Angel Daddy saved our lives yesterday
Around 10am yesterday morning, I got a call from one of the hockey moms reminding me about the game in Stettler that day at 1:45, and confirming that we were going to be there. Whaaaatt?! Apparently an email had been sent out notifying everyone of that game being added to the schedule. Of course, MY email must have chosen to reject that particular email 'cause I certainly didn't receive it!
So it was a mad rush to get everyone ready. Tyler was at Ardan's hockey game, which ended at 11:30, the exact time we had to be leaving. I went out to start the Durango, get it all warmed up -- the key wouldn't even turn in the ignition! It was completely frozen! Panic time. Rounded up the hair dryer, spent ten minutes out there blasting the ignition with hot air, finally it un-froze and I got the vehicle going. Phew!
Went online to Mapquest so I could print off a map and directions on how to get to Stettler. I've been there before but I didn't want to have another "Highway 2 North to Innisfail" fiasco. Well, this map gave me a route I'd never taken before -- go on Hwy 11 straight through Red Deer until you hit Hwy 12 up by Erskine, then continue through to Stettler. Said it was faster than taking Hwy 2 North to Lacombe and going that way. Awesome!
So we get on the road, one small error where I missed the Hwy 11 East turnoff by Clearview, had to turn around and get back on it. The streets in Red Deer were absolutely terrifying, thick layers of ice covered with snow and ruts. Thank God for 4x4! Almost hit a truck's rear-end when I slowed for a red light, my tires kind of skidded even though I was going extremely slow, we stopped like two inches from the truck. Gunnar and I kind of glanced at each other and gave a full-body shudder.
After about an hour or so of driving, we finally come to the turn-off for Hwy 12. Looked both ways, absolutely no traffic coming (THANK GOD, as you'll soon read why). I slowly pulled out and as I was turning my front wheels hit a huge patch of glare ice. The vehicle started fishtailing and swerving towards the other lane. I deliberately kept the wheel straight and when it seemed like we were coming out of the skid, I (stupidly!) chose to turn the wheel a tiny fraction to the right, thinking I should try to get more on my side of the road. HOLY SHIT! The vehicle started turning, picked up speed, spun in a complete circle through both lanes, when we finally shuddered to a stop we were back in our own lane but facing the wrong way!! There was still no traffic coming towards us, ohthankgod, but now there was three vehicles coming from the other lane up behind us. They had all slowed upon seeing what had happened and I got quite a few concerned stares from the drivers as they inched passed us. I just sat there, clutching the steering wheel and hyperventilating. As soon as the trucks passed us and I could see no more were coming, I got in that lane and pulled over onto a side road. Sat there for a full minute, shaking and crying.
Once I was composed again, I got back on the road and we carried on. But all I could think about was the prayer I'd sent up before we'd started driving, back in Sylvan. I usually do that, much to the amusement of the kids ("Mom's praying for her guardian angels to protect us while driving again!"). I'm a true believer in guardian angels and I do believe they have kept watch over me. And on this particular road-trip, I just KNOW that one very special guardian angel was watching over me and my kids and it was his loving, protective hand that guided my vehicle back into the empty lane.
Thank you Daddy!
So it was a mad rush to get everyone ready. Tyler was at Ardan's hockey game, which ended at 11:30, the exact time we had to be leaving. I went out to start the Durango, get it all warmed up -- the key wouldn't even turn in the ignition! It was completely frozen! Panic time. Rounded up the hair dryer, spent ten minutes out there blasting the ignition with hot air, finally it un-froze and I got the vehicle going. Phew!
Went online to Mapquest so I could print off a map and directions on how to get to Stettler. I've been there before but I didn't want to have another "Highway 2 North to Innisfail" fiasco. Well, this map gave me a route I'd never taken before -- go on Hwy 11 straight through Red Deer until you hit Hwy 12 up by Erskine, then continue through to Stettler. Said it was faster than taking Hwy 2 North to Lacombe and going that way. Awesome!
So we get on the road, one small error where I missed the Hwy 11 East turnoff by Clearview, had to turn around and get back on it. The streets in Red Deer were absolutely terrifying, thick layers of ice covered with snow and ruts. Thank God for 4x4! Almost hit a truck's rear-end when I slowed for a red light, my tires kind of skidded even though I was going extremely slow, we stopped like two inches from the truck. Gunnar and I kind of glanced at each other and gave a full-body shudder.
After about an hour or so of driving, we finally come to the turn-off for Hwy 12. Looked both ways, absolutely no traffic coming (THANK GOD, as you'll soon read why). I slowly pulled out and as I was turning my front wheels hit a huge patch of glare ice. The vehicle started fishtailing and swerving towards the other lane. I deliberately kept the wheel straight and when it seemed like we were coming out of the skid, I (stupidly!) chose to turn the wheel a tiny fraction to the right, thinking I should try to get more on my side of the road. HOLY SHIT! The vehicle started turning, picked up speed, spun in a complete circle through both lanes, when we finally shuddered to a stop we were back in our own lane but facing the wrong way!! There was still no traffic coming towards us, ohthankgod, but now there was three vehicles coming from the other lane up behind us. They had all slowed upon seeing what had happened and I got quite a few concerned stares from the drivers as they inched passed us. I just sat there, clutching the steering wheel and hyperventilating. As soon as the trucks passed us and I could see no more were coming, I got in that lane and pulled over onto a side road. Sat there for a full minute, shaking and crying.
Once I was composed again, I got back on the road and we carried on. But all I could think about was the prayer I'd sent up before we'd started driving, back in Sylvan. I usually do that, much to the amusement of the kids ("Mom's praying for her guardian angels to protect us while driving again!"). I'm a true believer in guardian angels and I do believe they have kept watch over me. And on this particular road-trip, I just KNOW that one very special guardian angel was watching over me and my kids and it was his loving, protective hand that guided my vehicle back into the empty lane.
Thank you Daddy!
I'm being held hostage
Okay, so some of you ladies will know EXACTLY what I mean when I explain. I am married to an obsessive fisherman/hunter, and every November my house becomes over-run with hunting gear. I've told Tyler (ranted, raged) that all that stuff needs to be contained downstairs, I WILL NOT have it upstairs. That's my space. But downstairs, what do I care, right?
Well, he listened, though he seemed to ignore the part where I said "contained" -- I was thinking he'd keep everything in bins or at least black garbage bags. No. Instead, he chose to drape all his hunting clothes and gear over every available surface in our downstairs livingroom. The desk -- covered with no-scent stuff and ammo, etc. The couch and the lamps -- covered with camo clothes, pants, shirts, gloves, coats, etc. I couldn't even look at that area whenever I'd go downstairs else I'd have an anxiety attack about the mess. I told myself "Just get through November, you can do it, when December rolls around it'll all get put away."
So its now December and just as I'd thought (hoped, wished, agonized over) Tyler is in the process of putting everything away. But FIRST, he said, he has to wash all his hunting clothes. OH GOD, I thought, not this again!!
You see, my hubby is a FIRM believer in using no-scent stuff on his hunting stuff. He's convinced he will never get a huge monster buck if it can smell him coming. So this means ALL his stuff MUST be washed with no-scent laundry soap. And not just that -- the washing machine and dryer CANNOT be "tainted" with regular laundry soap before he uses them. So before he does his laundry, he runs two EMPTY loads through the washer with his special soap to get rid of the "taint". Then, he BANS me from the laundry room (how DARE he?!) because my "woman scent" will somehow magically infuse the room and everything in it and will get on his hunting stuff. AARRGHH!!
So he started this process yesterday and warned me NOT to go in the laundry room for at least three days (just as well 'cause I'd probably have a shit-fit if I went in there and saw the ginormous chaotic mess he's creating). Now, I'm cool with him doing his own laundry and needing some time to get it all done. "Some time" in my mind constitutes one day, maybe two if I'm being nice -- it DOES NOT mean three days. Three friggin' days!! We are a household of SIX, do you have any idea how much laundry is created in three days!?
So I asked him this morning how many loads of his stuff he'd done and when can I expect my laundry room back? I asked quite nicely, in my opinion. He thought I was giving him a hard time and had a little freak out, "What?! I haven't even started! There was a hamper of your stuff in there so I thought I'd be nice and do that for you before I did my own stuff." To which I then freaked out (because I'm picky-picky and I like my laundry done a certain way, like, oh say, NOT putting dirty underwear and socks in with the towels, things like that, lol), "WHAT?!? You haven't even started?! This is day two of your three-day time allowance, there's NO WAY you'll be done by tomorrow if you haven't even STARTED!" Then he got more pissy, "Hey, at least I did your laundry for you! I had to waste my own no-scent stuff on YOUR laundry so it wouldn't taint the machine! You should be thanking me! And I can't help it if it takes me longer than three days, I work long hours so I can only do my laundry before-and-after work!" I replied, quite logically in my mind, "Well then, let ME do it, it'll be done by the end of the day. That should make you happy, right? I'll even fold it all for you!" (See, aren't I nice?) He spazzed out, "You are NOT allowed in that room, remember! And don't even think of touching my stuff with your woman-scent! I'll have to re-wash everything!"
So at that point, I chose to "exit" the conversation. He took that as a sign he'd "won" (stupid man) and went to work a happy camper (or, hunter, rather). Meanwhile, I'm standing at the sink doing dishes, muttering under my breath, "Stupid man, holding me hostage in my own home. What is the world coming to when a woman can't even go in her own laundry room? Woman-scent, hah! I should rub my boobs all over his stupid clothes! Muahahahaa!!! Ohgod, I can't believe I can't do laundry, I'm going insane! The dirty laundry hampers are piling up and taunting me!"
So that is the situation at my house right now. If you happen to see me and I'm wearing the same clothes you saw me in two days ago and there's stains on the pants and my shirt is wrinkled, have some pity on me, okay? Just say "stupid man" and shake your head, and I'll be happy.
Well, he listened, though he seemed to ignore the part where I said "contained" -- I was thinking he'd keep everything in bins or at least black garbage bags. No. Instead, he chose to drape all his hunting clothes and gear over every available surface in our downstairs livingroom. The desk -- covered with no-scent stuff and ammo, etc. The couch and the lamps -- covered with camo clothes, pants, shirts, gloves, coats, etc. I couldn't even look at that area whenever I'd go downstairs else I'd have an anxiety attack about the mess. I told myself "Just get through November, you can do it, when December rolls around it'll all get put away."
So its now December and just as I'd thought (hoped, wished, agonized over) Tyler is in the process of putting everything away. But FIRST, he said, he has to wash all his hunting clothes. OH GOD, I thought, not this again!!
You see, my hubby is a FIRM believer in using no-scent stuff on his hunting stuff. He's convinced he will never get a huge monster buck if it can smell him coming. So this means ALL his stuff MUST be washed with no-scent laundry soap. And not just that -- the washing machine and dryer CANNOT be "tainted" with regular laundry soap before he uses them. So before he does his laundry, he runs two EMPTY loads through the washer with his special soap to get rid of the "taint". Then, he BANS me from the laundry room (how DARE he?!) because my "woman scent" will somehow magically infuse the room and everything in it and will get on his hunting stuff. AARRGHH!!
So he started this process yesterday and warned me NOT to go in the laundry room for at least three days (just as well 'cause I'd probably have a shit-fit if I went in there and saw the ginormous chaotic mess he's creating). Now, I'm cool with him doing his own laundry and needing some time to get it all done. "Some time" in my mind constitutes one day, maybe two if I'm being nice -- it DOES NOT mean three days. Three friggin' days!! We are a household of SIX, do you have any idea how much laundry is created in three days!?
So I asked him this morning how many loads of his stuff he'd done and when can I expect my laundry room back? I asked quite nicely, in my opinion. He thought I was giving him a hard time and had a little freak out, "What?! I haven't even started! There was a hamper of your stuff in there so I thought I'd be nice and do that for you before I did my own stuff." To which I then freaked out (because I'm picky-picky and I like my laundry done a certain way, like, oh say, NOT putting dirty underwear and socks in with the towels, things like that, lol), "WHAT?!? You haven't even started?! This is day two of your three-day time allowance, there's NO WAY you'll be done by tomorrow if you haven't even STARTED!" Then he got more pissy, "Hey, at least I did your laundry for you! I had to waste my own no-scent stuff on YOUR laundry so it wouldn't taint the machine! You should be thanking me! And I can't help it if it takes me longer than three days, I work long hours so I can only do my laundry before-and-after work!" I replied, quite logically in my mind, "Well then, let ME do it, it'll be done by the end of the day. That should make you happy, right? I'll even fold it all for you!" (See, aren't I nice?) He spazzed out, "You are NOT allowed in that room, remember! And don't even think of touching my stuff with your woman-scent! I'll have to re-wash everything!"
So at that point, I chose to "exit" the conversation. He took that as a sign he'd "won" (stupid man) and went to work a happy camper (or, hunter, rather). Meanwhile, I'm standing at the sink doing dishes, muttering under my breath, "Stupid man, holding me hostage in my own home. What is the world coming to when a woman can't even go in her own laundry room? Woman-scent, hah! I should rub my boobs all over his stupid clothes! Muahahahaa!!! Ohgod, I can't believe I can't do laundry, I'm going insane! The dirty laundry hampers are piling up and taunting me!"
So that is the situation at my house right now. If you happen to see me and I'm wearing the same clothes you saw me in two days ago and there's stains on the pants and my shirt is wrinkled, have some pity on me, okay? Just say "stupid man" and shake your head, and I'll be happy.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tagged again!
So my e-friend Missy from Just Another Stupid Blog tagged me again, this time its a little different than the book meme (thank god because the closest book to me is fairly erotic throughout and you'd all be shocked, I think -- well, maybe not SOME of you fellow perverts, not naming names, haha). Here goes:
RULES!!
You get to send it to only 5 PPL ONLY not all the bloggers that wanna do it!
Rule number two: just write, don't keep anything inside!!
Rule number three HAVE FUN!!
OKAY, TOPIC: pick a person, ONE PERSON, that we all know which is A BLOGGER THAT BLOGS!! IN BLOGGER OR WORDPRESS!! Only one!! and describe that person and tell her/him some stuff that you like about them and if there are any negative points then say them too!! and write the name!!
So because I only know one other blogger that you all will know, I will do her and that is my BFF Kelly Milne (her blog is Musing and Mutterings on blogspot, check it out).
"Kelly, you have been one of my closest friends for about ten years now. When we first met, I'll admit I was prepared to dislike you just because I had been friends with Curtis's previous girlfriend and so I felt some loyalty for her. But as soon as I met you, that first time, remember we all went camping May long, I knew you'd be a friend for life. You instantly reminded me of my mom, you had qualities that she has that I've always envied and admired.
You're BALLSY, you're not afraid to tell it like it is, you laugh with gusto, you have a dirty sense of humor, you have ambition and drive, endless energy, a strong passion for life, and you're totally unafraid to take on anyone or anything (like up-and-moving your family to Australia!!!).
Some of the best times of my life have been had with you: getting drunk with you and Christine on the night before my wedding and you guys oohing and aahing over me as I drunkenly strutted around in my wedding dress, then the hours-long conversation we all had as the guys sat in the kitchen wondering what in the hell we were cackling about (them, of course! LOL); you and me that weekend we first met, May long, sitting around the fire getting sloshed (why do these stories always involve alcohol? haha) with the guys from the next campsite as our obsessed boyfriends were out fishing, and I remember thinking Holy crap, she's just like me only cooler!; the drive back from Camrose, we talked the entire way, an extremely x-rated conversation I believe (hahahaha) that I could only have with you, because we are sooo alike; you coming up with the idea and spear-heading it, to make chocolates for my wedding and you came over and pretty much did it all yourself, us chatting the entire time; being pregnant together, calling each other to bitch about our backaches, and bellyaches, and what extreme headaches our men were being (lol)... Aaahh, the list goes on and on.
You know I love you Kell and miss you. Hope you are having the time of your life "down under" in Australia (hey, did you know that when I was in Vegas and saw the male revue Thunder from Down Under they said that term means something totally different to them *wiggling eyebrows*).
Call me!!
XOXO for the kidlets"
I'm not going to tag anyone else for this, so you can all rest easy, lol.
RULES!!
You get to send it to only 5 PPL ONLY not all the bloggers that wanna do it!
Rule number two: just write, don't keep anything inside!!
Rule number three HAVE FUN!!
OKAY, TOPIC: pick a person, ONE PERSON, that we all know which is A BLOGGER THAT BLOGS!! IN BLOGGER OR WORDPRESS!! Only one!! and describe that person and tell her/him some stuff that you like about them and if there are any negative points then say them too!! and write the name!!
So because I only know one other blogger that you all will know, I will do her and that is my BFF Kelly Milne (her blog is Musing and Mutterings on blogspot, check it out).
"Kelly, you have been one of my closest friends for about ten years now. When we first met, I'll admit I was prepared to dislike you just because I had been friends with Curtis's previous girlfriend and so I felt some loyalty for her. But as soon as I met you, that first time, remember we all went camping May long, I knew you'd be a friend for life. You instantly reminded me of my mom, you had qualities that she has that I've always envied and admired.
You're BALLSY, you're not afraid to tell it like it is, you laugh with gusto, you have a dirty sense of humor, you have ambition and drive, endless energy, a strong passion for life, and you're totally unafraid to take on anyone or anything (like up-and-moving your family to Australia!!!).
Some of the best times of my life have been had with you: getting drunk with you and Christine on the night before my wedding and you guys oohing and aahing over me as I drunkenly strutted around in my wedding dress, then the hours-long conversation we all had as the guys sat in the kitchen wondering what in the hell we were cackling about (them, of course! LOL); you and me that weekend we first met, May long, sitting around the fire getting sloshed (why do these stories always involve alcohol? haha) with the guys from the next campsite as our obsessed boyfriends were out fishing, and I remember thinking Holy crap, she's just like me only cooler!; the drive back from Camrose, we talked the entire way, an extremely x-rated conversation I believe (hahahaha) that I could only have with you, because we are sooo alike; you coming up with the idea and spear-heading it, to make chocolates for my wedding and you came over and pretty much did it all yourself, us chatting the entire time; being pregnant together, calling each other to bitch about our backaches, and bellyaches, and what extreme headaches our men were being (lol)... Aaahh, the list goes on and on.
You know I love you Kell and miss you. Hope you are having the time of your life "down under" in Australia (hey, did you know that when I was in Vegas and saw the male revue Thunder from Down Under they said that term means something totally different to them *wiggling eyebrows*).
Call me!!
XOXO for the kidlets"
I'm not going to tag anyone else for this, so you can all rest easy, lol.
Kenny is Awesome with a capital A
There was a Kenny vs Spenny episode a couple weeks ago, Who Can Piss Off More People, and it was probably one of the funniest ones I've seen yet (doesn't top the Who Can Wear A Dead Squid on Their Head the Longest episode, where Kenny spikes Spenny's juice with 4 hits of acid and makes him think its the effect of prolonged exposure to the squid's ink). I've put a clip on here of the episode (its part one, for parts two and three go to youtube) and it'll give you an idea of some of the stunts they were pulling to piss people off.
Spenny, being the decent guy he is, can't really think of anything to do that will majorly piss people off, so he gets a guy to give him tips. Goes out on the street wearing a sign saying "Women are stupid", that gets him lots of points. He unintentionally stops traffic when he double parks his car so he can get out and talk to some guys working, that gets him some points from the people in their cars.
But nothing, NOTHING, tops what Kenny does. He's a natural-born asshole so his ideas come naturally and they are awesome! He does a whole bunch of stuff, like swiping the stuff off the desks of the girls who work for the show, pisses off a whole baseball team by taunting them and ends up getting his ass kicked. Then he gets the totally awesome idea to "stall" his van in the middle of the busiest intersection in downtown Toronto, lifts up the hood and makes gestures like he doesn't know what to do, then just runs off, meanwhile the entire traffic has come to a standstill and people are going insane!!
Then he goes to a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game, they were playing Seattle I think, wearing the opposing teams colors, carrying a Go Seattle sign, sits in the bleachers with everyone else cheering on the Blue Jays and he stands up, booing the Blue Jays and cheering on Seattle. The Jumbotron (or whatever its called) pans to him, he starts acting the part of the major asshole, the entire stadium is booing him, THEN he goes after the Blue Jays mascot and starts beating him up. People are like literally wanting to kill him.
But then, THEN, he came up with the evilest (literally) idea ever: how to piss off the entire city of Toronto?? He hires one of those airplanes that pull advertisements behind them, gets it to do the rounds of the entire city for the whole day. People are calling in to radio stations, its on the news, everyone absolutely hates this guy. What did he put on there, you ask? "JESUS SUCKS!!"
Omg it was hilarious!!! You have to watch it, seriously. I LOVE this show!!
So this makes me ask, have any of YOU guys ever done something to intentionally piss someone off, and what was it? Let me know in the comments!!
P.S. I don't really count in this because I do stuff every day to intentionally piss off my hubby, like backtalk him, or make fun of him when he loses his keys or wallet, or even defend whoever or whatever he's currently ranting about. Why do I do this? Because I like getting him all riled up, then taking my punishment like the bad girl I am... heh. ;P
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Please do not discriminate against the "directionally challenged" - we have feelings too!
Friday was literally the day from HELL for me. It didn't start off that way, no, I was lulled into thinking I'd have a great, laid-back day. The kids didn't have school so we all slept in, lounged around for a bit, it was nice. I knew we'd have to leave here around 10:30am for Gunnar's game at noon in Innisfail, so I made sure everyone was showered, dressed, fed, packed and ready to go by 10. Awesome! We left here, on time, filled the tank with gas (only $50 - woot!!), then continued on our way. Took the turnoff for Hwy 2 North, got the tunes going, it was great. We passed Lacombe, no signs for Innisfail. Kept going, thinking we'd see a sign in a little bit. Time passed, no Innisfail sign, but I did see a Morningside sign. Uh oh, I'm thinking, that can't be right. Tried to call my mom (no answer, didn't bother leaving a message), then called Levi. He's a guy, he's probably been down every road in Alberta, he'd know where I went wrong. As soon as I asked what Hwy 2 turnoff you should take to get to Innisfail, he burst out laughing and replied, "Let me guess, you took the North turnoff? Bwahahahahaha!! Don't you remember going to Spruceview as kids for Sunday-morning breakfast with Gramma Hattie and Grandpa Barney? Don't you remember it was South?" Awww CRAP!!! Found an exit ramp so I could turn around. By this time, it was almost 11:30, the time when Gunnar should already be AT the arena, getting dressed. Gunnar was so disgusted with me he wouldn't even look at me.
So we continued on, finally I saw the sign for the Innisfail exit in 2 kms. Suddenly there was an exit, but it couldn't have been 2 kms already!! So I carried on, saw a sign for Innisfail South, but we don't want to go to South Innisfail so I carried on past that one too. Only then did I realize my horrible mistake. So we had to carry on to BOWDEN, turn around, and head back to Innisfail. Took the South exit (didn't want to risk going past Innisfail again) but then we spent like 20 minutes driving around looking for the arena. Finally found it. By this time it was like 12:30. Gunnar was soooo mad at me he was almost crying. So we missed the first period.
And just to top my day off, when we finally took our seats in the stands, I went to open Lena's Sprite bottle and the damn thing exploded all over me!!!
So we continued on, finally I saw the sign for the Innisfail exit in 2 kms. Suddenly there was an exit, but it couldn't have been 2 kms already!! So I carried on, saw a sign for Innisfail South, but we don't want to go to South Innisfail so I carried on past that one too. Only then did I realize my horrible mistake. So we had to carry on to BOWDEN, turn around, and head back to Innisfail. Took the South exit (didn't want to risk going past Innisfail again) but then we spent like 20 minutes driving around looking for the arena. Finally found it. By this time it was like 12:30. Gunnar was soooo mad at me he was almost crying. So we missed the first period.
And just to top my day off, when we finally took our seats in the stands, I went to open Lena's Sprite bottle and the damn thing exploded all over me!!!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Learn from my mistake, people
You know, I can count on one hand the number of times I've had my hair professionally dyed in a salon. And while the result has always been great, I always think, when I get the bill, "What a rip-off!" Which is why I usually dye my own hair in the comfort of my own bathroom for a fraction of what it costs in a salon. And usually I am happy with the results.
But lately I've noticed something disturbing. The last time I home-dyed my hair, for some insane reason my roots turn out a different color that the rest of my hair. I had chosen a lovely reddish-blondish-brown color ("spiced tea"), if that makes sense. It didn't turn out as blond as the lady on the box-cover, but I was happy with it. Well, I should clarify, the bottom length of my hair didn't pick up the blond, my bangs and roots totally did. It was weird-looking for the first week, until enough of the dye faded so my roots and bangs blended in with the rest.
My hair has a real tendency to pick up any red-tones in dye. And usually I like that, being a red-head is fun and gives me a great excuse for my temper. Haha! So when I noticed the other day that my hair color was really faded, I picked up another box of hair dye, this time I chose a really nice mahogany-brown. On the box cover, it looked like a chocolate-y brown.
Only this time the results were horrible! My hair chose to pick up MAJOR red-tones instead of brown. My bangs and roots are the color of a penny (that's the closest color estimate I can come up with) while the bottom half of my hair is brownish-red. It looks weird! It looks funny! Hubs (that's my new nickname for Tyler) didn't say a word, I don't know if its because he's just that oblivious or because he's learned from past mistakes in critiquing my hairstyle-and-color choices.
I'm hoping that in a week or so, the rest of my hair will blend in with the roots. If not.... I'm gonna have to take to wearing hats. I'll be the crazy-hat lady of Sylvan. I should raid Deanna's closet, see if she still has that "Bad Hair Day" ball cap. Its an idea, anyway.
But lately I've noticed something disturbing. The last time I home-dyed my hair, for some insane reason my roots turn out a different color that the rest of my hair. I had chosen a lovely reddish-blondish-brown color ("spiced tea"), if that makes sense. It didn't turn out as blond as the lady on the box-cover, but I was happy with it. Well, I should clarify, the bottom length of my hair didn't pick up the blond, my bangs and roots totally did. It was weird-looking for the first week, until enough of the dye faded so my roots and bangs blended in with the rest.
My hair has a real tendency to pick up any red-tones in dye. And usually I like that, being a red-head is fun and gives me a great excuse for my temper. Haha! So when I noticed the other day that my hair color was really faded, I picked up another box of hair dye, this time I chose a really nice mahogany-brown. On the box cover, it looked like a chocolate-y brown.
Only this time the results were horrible! My hair chose to pick up MAJOR red-tones instead of brown. My bangs and roots are the color of a penny (that's the closest color estimate I can come up with) while the bottom half of my hair is brownish-red. It looks weird! It looks funny! Hubs (that's my new nickname for Tyler) didn't say a word, I don't know if its because he's just that oblivious or because he's learned from past mistakes in critiquing my hairstyle-and-color choices.
I'm hoping that in a week or so, the rest of my hair will blend in with the roots. If not.... I'm gonna have to take to wearing hats. I'll be the crazy-hat lady of Sylvan. I should raid Deanna's closet, see if she still has that "Bad Hair Day" ball cap. Its an idea, anyway.
Yummmmy
To switch things up a bit this morning I decided to try something different, something new, something exciting (yes, this passes as exciting in my little world)....
Instead of putting french vanilla in my coffee, as usual, I put in some candy-cane eggnog! You can pick up little 1 litres of it from No Frills; it was on sale a while back so I picked up like six. But get this -- the expiry date on it is for April 2009! And it doesn't require refrigeration (until you open it), isn't that weird? Its not like regular eggnog in that way. Makes you wonder what the heck its made of, certainly not milk.
Its sooooo good, the kids are obsessed. Its very thick and sweet though, like regular eggnog, so I make my kids mix it half-and-half with skim milk.
But yeah, so I'm having it in my coffee and for some strange reason, it makes my coffee taste like I spiked it with booze! Seriously! I've been trying to figure out what booze it tastes like, the closest I can come up with is Kahlua. So if you're the type who always adds booze to your coffee (mom), you should try this as an alcohol-free alternative. Yum!
Instead of putting french vanilla in my coffee, as usual, I put in some candy-cane eggnog! You can pick up little 1 litres of it from No Frills; it was on sale a while back so I picked up like six. But get this -- the expiry date on it is for April 2009! And it doesn't require refrigeration (until you open it), isn't that weird? Its not like regular eggnog in that way. Makes you wonder what the heck its made of, certainly not milk.
Its sooooo good, the kids are obsessed. Its very thick and sweet though, like regular eggnog, so I make my kids mix it half-and-half with skim milk.
But yeah, so I'm having it in my coffee and for some strange reason, it makes my coffee taste like I spiked it with booze! Seriously! I've been trying to figure out what booze it tastes like, the closest I can come up with is Kahlua. So if you're the type who always adds booze to your coffee (mom), you should try this as an alcohol-free alternative. Yum!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Well, I did it...
Today was THE DAY, you know, the day the JW was to come over for a "visit" and the day I was going to get the guts to tell her I wasn't interested. And I did it!
She was to come over around 11am and at 9am I decided to call her to say what I had to say over the phone. Because I'm a chicken, and I knew I'd never be able to say all I had to say in person, looking into her big blue eyes. As I was dialing, I repeated my mantra "You can do it, you know what you need to say, you can do it...". It rang and rang and rang -- please, oh please let the answering machine come on.
Sure enough, it did, and I said my spiel, making sure to let her know I would still be a friend if she was interested, seeing as we have a lot in common outside of religion, and that she could come over to visit with her kids whenever and all the kids could play together. I felt real bad for 'leading her on' like that, but oh well.
Then I started worrying that maybe she was out-and-about Christmas shopping (then I realized JW's don't celebrate Christmas), but maybe she was out doing something and was planning to stop here without going home and hearing my message. But 11am came and went and I knew she must have heard it. So I probably broke someone's heart today, but at least I stayed true to my own.
She was to come over around 11am and at 9am I decided to call her to say what I had to say over the phone. Because I'm a chicken, and I knew I'd never be able to say all I had to say in person, looking into her big blue eyes. As I was dialing, I repeated my mantra "You can do it, you know what you need to say, you can do it...". It rang and rang and rang -- please, oh please let the answering machine come on.
Sure enough, it did, and I said my spiel, making sure to let her know I would still be a friend if she was interested, seeing as we have a lot in common outside of religion, and that she could come over to visit with her kids whenever and all the kids could play together. I felt real bad for 'leading her on' like that, but oh well.
Then I started worrying that maybe she was out-and-about Christmas shopping (then I realized JW's don't celebrate Christmas), but maybe she was out doing something and was planning to stop here without going home and hearing my message. But 11am came and went and I knew she must have heard it. So I probably broke someone's heart today, but at least I stayed true to my own.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I shopped til I dropped and my Visa begged for mercy!
Well guys, for the first time EVER I can say that I got all my Christmas shopping done before December 1st! Can you believe it? (To be perfectly honest, I guess I must admit I still don't have gifts for my brothers-in-law, but I'm talking about gifts for the kids and everyone else.)
For the past few months, Tyler's been picking up gifts here-and-there for the boys, you know, stuff that caught his eye or was on an awesome sale. So I knew that the boys were pretty much done, just needed a few little toys for them. But the bulk of my shopping was for No.3 and No.4, who had practically nothing. Mom and I made plans on Friday that we would meet up in Red Deer on Saturday, after Ard's hockey game (during which he got his hat trick AND three assists, woot!), and she would take No. 2 and No. 3 so I could shop. And boy did I ever!
First to Toys R Us, where I shocked and amazed both myself and the other shoppers with my massively overflowing cart. I felt like I had to explain myself to the lady behind me in line, "I have four kids" to which she nodded in understanding, "Ah, okay, that explains it. I was thinking you had one and she was getting spoiled!" We laughed. I didn't clarify that 95% of the toys were for TWO kids, not four. She's right -- my kids are spoiled! Haha. But in my defence, most of my cart was taken up by Ryder's folded-up umbrella stroller and his diaper bag. Because I'm an idiot and forgot that I should have just carried him into the store.
(On a side note, how friggin' annoying is it that everywhere you look in a TOY STORE are signs saying 'Stocking Stuffers'?!! Ya, lets announce it to all reading-age kids that their parents are the ones stuffing the stockings! What a great thing for a kid to learn at Christmas, and from a TOY STORE no less! Even GD commercials on tv say it. ARRGHHH! I'd like to encourage my kids' innocent beliefs in magical beings for as long as I can, thankyouverymuch advertisers!!)
Met up with mom afterwards at McD's (I was very proud of myself that I didn't eat anything besides a couple limp fries and half a chicken nugget), then she took the kids to Linen N Things (Ardan was disgusted) while I continued on to Canadian Tire. I was only going in for three things, came out with like a hundred. Typical. But at least the men on my list were crossed off (well, except for the brothers-in-law, I struggle every year with gift ideas for them). Then on to Payless for shoes and hikers for Ryder, and black ballet dress shoes for Lena. Left the store with those, PLUS two pairs of heels, a black clutch purse, and tons of jewelry for me. *sigh* What can I say, I'm a sucker for a sale. THEN, my last store, Marks Work Warehouse. Mom had given me a great idea for Scott's gift (Tyler pulled his name in the gift exchange) and, because I lead a "charmed life", it just so happened Mark's was having a One Night Only 25% Off Sale! So I was able to get Scott five gifts for the price of two!
And I just want to inform everyone that Mark's does not have shopping carts! Well, they do, FOUR. Which the employees use for stocking shelves. I walked in there carrying Ryder (remembering my Toys R Us experience), then frantically tried to locate a cart so I could plop my kid down before my arms fell off. An older saleslady took pity on me and rounded up a cart. I was so thankful! Until I realized the reason they don't have carts for customers is because the aisles are like six inches wide. Try pushing a cart loaded with stuff through those tiny aisles, knocking stuff over, bumping into people "Sorry! So sorry!". I found these awesome Helly Hansen under-armor hoody sweaters that I thought would be a great idea for the hubby and brothers-in-law, but there was no price on it. Couldn't be too expensive, I thought, maybe $50 each, with the 25% off that would be... um... *thinking*... you know what, screw math, it would be a good deal is what it would be, lol. (Hey, I never claimed I was a rocket scientist and for those who say that equation is nowhere near rocket science, bah humbug on you!)
I got up to the till, the cashier was a total witch to me, yelled at me in front of everyone that I was loading items too fast on the counter. Well, you would be too, sister, if you had a screaming baby trying to madly escape the cart as he rips the earring from your ear! But I felt her frustration, that place was PACKED, I've been there before when I worked at A&W and a huge tour bus would come in and the place would go from dead to insane in seconds. So I cut her some slack. Until she said, "Okay, you're total is $460." WTF?!? "Um, could you please tell me how much those hoodies were? They didn't have a price on them." They were $100 each! Gee, um, let me think, uh, NO THANKS!! So she made a big deal of taking them out of the bag, THREW them on the ground, heaved a giant sigh of frustration as she retotalled my bill. I just stood there and smiled. Honey, the only person looking like a bitch and a fool is you, and unprofessional as well. I can honestly tell you that during my working days, from A&W to waitressing at the Lodge to working at the Advocate, I never, ever took my frustration or impatience out on a customer.
Anyways, after that fiasco I met up with mom at Deanna's for a coffee and smoke and to be able to finally rest my aching feet. Ahhhh, Gramma Dea's coffee is the absolute best. Made the mistake, though, of taking a giant swig of my mom's PIPING HOT fresh cup thinking it was my lukewarm cup. Mom and Dea were laughing hilariously as I screamed with my mouth closed, cheeks bulging with boiling coffee, looking frantically for somewhere to spit it out besides all over those two cackling hyenas. Spat it back into my own cup, then sat there moaning for a couple minutes as I felt my tastebuds withering into hardened nubs. Even my teeth were burning!
Oh, and then Exorcist-Boy upchucked all over Dea's floor, and his NEW SHOES!!! Which is all I cared about. Grandma's got a tiled floor, no big whoop. But his new navy blue runners were covered with white chunks! Ugh!
So yeah, after all that -- shopping, driving in Red Deer's insane traffic, dealing with frustrated cashiers, searing my mouth lining, scrubbing puke (oh yeah, and did I mention that No.4 has THE DIARRHEA and I had to change him every 20 minutes the entire day) -- I was DONE. Game over. Mama hit her limit.
Went home, fed the kids, put them to bed, then remembered I had to haul in like a million bags from the vehicle, THEN remembered I had to sort and organize and make lists of who's-getting-what, THEN remembered I had to transfer those lists to the computer... Lets just say it was the wee hours of the morning before I was able to collapse in a heap on my bed.
But at least I can say that all my shopping is done!!!
Well, except for those darn brothers-in-law!! But I'm choosing to ignore that...
For the past few months, Tyler's been picking up gifts here-and-there for the boys, you know, stuff that caught his eye or was on an awesome sale. So I knew that the boys were pretty much done, just needed a few little toys for them. But the bulk of my shopping was for No.3 and No.4, who had practically nothing. Mom and I made plans on Friday that we would meet up in Red Deer on Saturday, after Ard's hockey game (during which he got his hat trick AND three assists, woot!), and she would take No. 2 and No. 3 so I could shop. And boy did I ever!
First to Toys R Us, where I shocked and amazed both myself and the other shoppers with my massively overflowing cart. I felt like I had to explain myself to the lady behind me in line, "I have four kids" to which she nodded in understanding, "Ah, okay, that explains it. I was thinking you had one and she was getting spoiled!" We laughed. I didn't clarify that 95% of the toys were for TWO kids, not four. She's right -- my kids are spoiled! Haha. But in my defence, most of my cart was taken up by Ryder's folded-up umbrella stroller and his diaper bag. Because I'm an idiot and forgot that I should have just carried him into the store.
(On a side note, how friggin' annoying is it that everywhere you look in a TOY STORE are signs saying 'Stocking Stuffers'?!! Ya, lets announce it to all reading-age kids that their parents are the ones stuffing the stockings! What a great thing for a kid to learn at Christmas, and from a TOY STORE no less! Even GD commercials on tv say it. ARRGHHH! I'd like to encourage my kids' innocent beliefs in magical beings for as long as I can, thankyouverymuch advertisers!!)
Met up with mom afterwards at McD's (I was very proud of myself that I didn't eat anything besides a couple limp fries and half a chicken nugget), then she took the kids to Linen N Things (Ardan was disgusted) while I continued on to Canadian Tire. I was only going in for three things, came out with like a hundred. Typical. But at least the men on my list were crossed off (well, except for the brothers-in-law, I struggle every year with gift ideas for them). Then on to Payless for shoes and hikers for Ryder, and black ballet dress shoes for Lena. Left the store with those, PLUS two pairs of heels, a black clutch purse, and tons of jewelry for me. *sigh* What can I say, I'm a sucker for a sale. THEN, my last store, Marks Work Warehouse. Mom had given me a great idea for Scott's gift (Tyler pulled his name in the gift exchange) and, because I lead a "charmed life", it just so happened Mark's was having a One Night Only 25% Off Sale! So I was able to get Scott five gifts for the price of two!
And I just want to inform everyone that Mark's does not have shopping carts! Well, they do, FOUR. Which the employees use for stocking shelves. I walked in there carrying Ryder (remembering my Toys R Us experience), then frantically tried to locate a cart so I could plop my kid down before my arms fell off. An older saleslady took pity on me and rounded up a cart. I was so thankful! Until I realized the reason they don't have carts for customers is because the aisles are like six inches wide. Try pushing a cart loaded with stuff through those tiny aisles, knocking stuff over, bumping into people "Sorry! So sorry!". I found these awesome Helly Hansen under-armor hoody sweaters that I thought would be a great idea for the hubby and brothers-in-law, but there was no price on it. Couldn't be too expensive, I thought, maybe $50 each, with the 25% off that would be... um... *thinking*... you know what, screw math, it would be a good deal is what it would be, lol. (Hey, I never claimed I was a rocket scientist and for those who say that equation is nowhere near rocket science, bah humbug on you!)
I got up to the till, the cashier was a total witch to me, yelled at me in front of everyone that I was loading items too fast on the counter. Well, you would be too, sister, if you had a screaming baby trying to madly escape the cart as he rips the earring from your ear! But I felt her frustration, that place was PACKED, I've been there before when I worked at A&W and a huge tour bus would come in and the place would go from dead to insane in seconds. So I cut her some slack. Until she said, "Okay, you're total is $460." WTF?!? "Um, could you please tell me how much those hoodies were? They didn't have a price on them." They were $100 each! Gee, um, let me think, uh, NO THANKS!! So she made a big deal of taking them out of the bag, THREW them on the ground, heaved a giant sigh of frustration as she retotalled my bill. I just stood there and smiled. Honey, the only person looking like a bitch and a fool is you, and unprofessional as well. I can honestly tell you that during my working days, from A&W to waitressing at the Lodge to working at the Advocate, I never, ever took my frustration or impatience out on a customer.
Anyways, after that fiasco I met up with mom at Deanna's for a coffee and smoke and to be able to finally rest my aching feet. Ahhhh, Gramma Dea's coffee is the absolute best. Made the mistake, though, of taking a giant swig of my mom's PIPING HOT fresh cup thinking it was my lukewarm cup. Mom and Dea were laughing hilariously as I screamed with my mouth closed, cheeks bulging with boiling coffee, looking frantically for somewhere to spit it out besides all over those two cackling hyenas. Spat it back into my own cup, then sat there moaning for a couple minutes as I felt my tastebuds withering into hardened nubs. Even my teeth were burning!
Oh, and then Exorcist-Boy upchucked all over Dea's floor, and his NEW SHOES!!! Which is all I cared about. Grandma's got a tiled floor, no big whoop. But his new navy blue runners were covered with white chunks! Ugh!
So yeah, after all that -- shopping, driving in Red Deer's insane traffic, dealing with frustrated cashiers, searing my mouth lining, scrubbing puke (oh yeah, and did I mention that No.4 has THE DIARRHEA and I had to change him every 20 minutes the entire day) -- I was DONE. Game over. Mama hit her limit.
Went home, fed the kids, put them to bed, then remembered I had to haul in like a million bags from the vehicle, THEN remembered I had to sort and organize and make lists of who's-getting-what, THEN remembered I had to transfer those lists to the computer... Lets just say it was the wee hours of the morning before I was able to collapse in a heap on my bed.
But at least I can say that all my shopping is done!!!
Well, except for those darn brothers-in-law!! But I'm choosing to ignore that...
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Awww, young love....
I was walking with Gunnar around the mall last night (Tyler had the other kids) and we happened to go past Xcetera, they were having a closing-out sale, everything 70% off. Well, how could I resist? So I pulled him in there with me to get his opinion on which earrings and bracelets and necklaces I should get.
I'm madly throwing stuff in my basket and Gunnar shyly asks me, "Do you think I should get my girlfriend something?" Awwwwww! What a little sweetie! "Yes, of course! What a great idea, Gunnar! She would LOVE jewelry, I'm sure!" So we went up and down the aisles, deciding on colors and styles. Gunnar painstakingly deliberated over this-and-that, "Do you think she would like long dangly earrings or shorter ones?", "Do girls like red or pink?", "What about a matching necklace?" It was so adorable, and I was really proud that he was being a thoughtful, caring boyfriend.
With five minutes to closing, he was in a panic, still unable to choose. Finally, as I was dumping my over-flowing basket on the counter for the salesgirl to ring through, he came up and showed me what he'd chosen -- a really beautiful pair of red chandelier earrings, not too long or dangly (I had told him her parents might not want her to have an overly-flashy pair), that look like rubies, and a stretchy, red-and-white beaded bracelet. He couldn't believe the total for both came to only $5! "Just don't tell her that, Gunnar!" Hahaha!
He's just growing up right before my very eyes! *sniff*
P.S. Levi, I know exactly what you are thinking! No! I am hereby BANNING you from that store! I don't think Amber would appreciate a bunch of cheap jewelry just because you want to save a buck! GOT IT? Quit being such a cheapskate and get her some REAL jewelry! LOL
I'm madly throwing stuff in my basket and Gunnar shyly asks me, "Do you think I should get my girlfriend something?" Awwwwww! What a little sweetie! "Yes, of course! What a great idea, Gunnar! She would LOVE jewelry, I'm sure!" So we went up and down the aisles, deciding on colors and styles. Gunnar painstakingly deliberated over this-and-that, "Do you think she would like long dangly earrings or shorter ones?", "Do girls like red or pink?", "What about a matching necklace?" It was so adorable, and I was really proud that he was being a thoughtful, caring boyfriend.
With five minutes to closing, he was in a panic, still unable to choose. Finally, as I was dumping my over-flowing basket on the counter for the salesgirl to ring through, he came up and showed me what he'd chosen -- a really beautiful pair of red chandelier earrings, not too long or dangly (I had told him her parents might not want her to have an overly-flashy pair), that look like rubies, and a stretchy, red-and-white beaded bracelet. He couldn't believe the total for both came to only $5! "Just don't tell her that, Gunnar!" Hahaha!
He's just growing up right before my very eyes! *sniff*
P.S. Levi, I know exactly what you are thinking! No! I am hereby BANNING you from that store! I don't think Amber would appreciate a bunch of cheap jewelry just because you want to save a buck! GOT IT? Quit being such a cheapskate and get her some REAL jewelry! LOL
Look out Hollywood!
I'll never forget the first time I had an actual speaking-role in a school play. It was for a Christmas concert, I think I was in third grade, and I was chosen to be one of the three wise men. I had only one line, "Look at yonder star!" I practiced and practiced my one line, making sure I knew when my cue was. I was convinced I would be the best wise man ever!
The night of the concert, I was so excited, but also very nervous. I got all costumed up, took my place on stage with the other wise men. As I was standing there, waiting for my cue, I got distracted, looking at the scenery, looking out at the audience trying to spot my parents and brothers. Next thing I know, I feel a sharp elbow-jab in my ribs. It was my turn! In a total panic, I flung up my arm and said, really fast and really loud, "LOOKATYONDERSTAR!!" Then I stood there for the rest of the play in total shame and embarrassment for having flubbed my first real "acting" role. I was humiliated!
So now, many years later, it is now Gunnar's turn to have his first real speaking-role in a Christmas concert. Last year, he was Joseph so he DID play a prominent role, but he didn't have any lines (for which he was immensely grateful, although he said it was "embarrassing" that he had to hold Mary's hand). This year, they are doing a really cool Christmas play, with a concept of a newspaper getting the scoop on the birth of baby Jesus.
Gunnar has a very prominent role, with only one other character having more lines than him. He is playing Rock Gibraltar, an "egocentric, grandiose sports reporter" (to quote the script). I went through the script, looking at all his lines, and man are there a lot! I actually had a mini panic-attack just thinking of being in his shoes! I asked if he was nervous, "A bit", which I'm sure will be a huge understatement as the concert gets closer. In fact, I have an idea I'll be needing to bring a puke bucket for him that night.
So I thought that I would give him a little pep talk, help him to understand what his character is all about. First I had to explain what "egocentric" and "grandiose" meant, haha. I remember what it was like at that age, when everyone volunteers for a role -- you want to be important so if you get a main role, everyone is envious and admires you. But then you realize you actually have to ACT, not just in front of all the parents, but all your school buddies. And at that age, it can be kind of embarrassing to actually ACT out a role, to be theatrical, when you're thinking that all the kids are mocking you, "Look at Brad Pitt over there." Its so much easier to just spit out your lines in a monotone, like most of the other kids.
But then there's always that one kid that does take his role seriously and makes an effort, and that kid always KILLS on stage. He has the audience laughing, crying, thinking "That kid is awesome!" There was a kid like that when I was in grade six. He was cute, and funny, and all us girls really liked him. But when we saw him act out his role during practices for the Christmas play (for which he had the starring role, of course), that's when we all got huge monstrous crushes on him. He was the Brad Pitt of grade six! He had girls following him around wherever he went, fighting over who got to sit by him, you know, what 10 year old girls do when they like a boy.
So I explained that to Gunnar, that although it may be hard to break out of his shell and really act the role but worrying that his friends will think he's dorky, its actually just the opposite. If the girls are hot-to-trot for him now (which they are), imagine what they'll be like when he's swaggering around on stage, really getting into the part of Rock Gibraltar. My son could be his generation's Brad Pitt!
So with all that having been said, we went through his lines, getting an idea of how each line should be read, what arm movements he could make (remember, he is supposed to be "grandiose" and "egocentric", haha). I think that really helped with his nervousness. That, and the fact that the girls would be crazy over him, well, MORE crazy, if he just went for it.
All I know is, I'm going to be the proudest mom ever on the concert-night!! (Well, I pretty much am already, but MORE proud, haha.)
The night of the concert, I was so excited, but also very nervous. I got all costumed up, took my place on stage with the other wise men. As I was standing there, waiting for my cue, I got distracted, looking at the scenery, looking out at the audience trying to spot my parents and brothers. Next thing I know, I feel a sharp elbow-jab in my ribs. It was my turn! In a total panic, I flung up my arm and said, really fast and really loud, "LOOKATYONDERSTAR!!" Then I stood there for the rest of the play in total shame and embarrassment for having flubbed my first real "acting" role. I was humiliated!
So now, many years later, it is now Gunnar's turn to have his first real speaking-role in a Christmas concert. Last year, he was Joseph so he DID play a prominent role, but he didn't have any lines (for which he was immensely grateful, although he said it was "embarrassing" that he had to hold Mary's hand). This year, they are doing a really cool Christmas play, with a concept of a newspaper getting the scoop on the birth of baby Jesus.
Gunnar has a very prominent role, with only one other character having more lines than him. He is playing Rock Gibraltar, an "egocentric, grandiose sports reporter" (to quote the script). I went through the script, looking at all his lines, and man are there a lot! I actually had a mini panic-attack just thinking of being in his shoes! I asked if he was nervous, "A bit", which I'm sure will be a huge understatement as the concert gets closer. In fact, I have an idea I'll be needing to bring a puke bucket for him that night.
So I thought that I would give him a little pep talk, help him to understand what his character is all about. First I had to explain what "egocentric" and "grandiose" meant, haha. I remember what it was like at that age, when everyone volunteers for a role -- you want to be important so if you get a main role, everyone is envious and admires you. But then you realize you actually have to ACT, not just in front of all the parents, but all your school buddies. And at that age, it can be kind of embarrassing to actually ACT out a role, to be theatrical, when you're thinking that all the kids are mocking you, "Look at Brad Pitt over there." Its so much easier to just spit out your lines in a monotone, like most of the other kids.
But then there's always that one kid that does take his role seriously and makes an effort, and that kid always KILLS on stage. He has the audience laughing, crying, thinking "That kid is awesome!" There was a kid like that when I was in grade six. He was cute, and funny, and all us girls really liked him. But when we saw him act out his role during practices for the Christmas play (for which he had the starring role, of course), that's when we all got huge monstrous crushes on him. He was the Brad Pitt of grade six! He had girls following him around wherever he went, fighting over who got to sit by him, you know, what 10 year old girls do when they like a boy.
So I explained that to Gunnar, that although it may be hard to break out of his shell and really act the role but worrying that his friends will think he's dorky, its actually just the opposite. If the girls are hot-to-trot for him now (which they are), imagine what they'll be like when he's swaggering around on stage, really getting into the part of Rock Gibraltar. My son could be his generation's Brad Pitt!
So with all that having been said, we went through his lines, getting an idea of how each line should be read, what arm movements he could make (remember, he is supposed to be "grandiose" and "egocentric", haha). I think that really helped with his nervousness. That, and the fact that the girls would be crazy over him, well, MORE crazy, if he just went for it.
All I know is, I'm going to be the proudest mom ever on the concert-night!! (Well, I pretty much am already, but MORE proud, haha.)
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Lena is so smart, S-M-R-T, I mean S-M-A-R-T
So I'm putting Lena to bed tonight and she asks me to "tickle her back", which really just means running my fingertips lightly up and down her back. This seems to really soothe and calm her, and its somewhat of a bedtime ritual. Well, because it was so late and I was in the middle of something when I put her to bed, I told her I would tickle her back for 10 seconds (instead of the usual minute). I told her to count realllly slow up to ten, so she does, "1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 11..."
That little bugger! She deliberately left out 10 so I'd keep on tickling. That girl is so smart sometimes it scares me. LOL!
That little bugger! She deliberately left out 10 so I'd keep on tickling. That girl is so smart sometimes it scares me. LOL!
Bono saved my eardrums tonight
We were in Red Deer tonight, for the boys' dentist appointments (the hygienist asked about you Amber, how you were doing). Gunnar has "wonderful" teeth, no sign of the cross-bite coming back, and they were able to tell from the x-ray that he has some "large" adult teeth about to come in ("large" - ha ha ha Gunnar, I too suffer from the curse of large teeth). I was mostly concerned about Ardan's teeth, specifically his right front tooth, as it is coming in crooked. But they said most likely it will straighten itself out over time, so that was a relief to hear. He had a small "pit" on his one tooth that they just filled in with sealant. It was a good dentist visit and the kids got their "free!" toothbrushes and little toys, so they were happy.
Afterwards, we were able to do a bit of Christmas shopping and for some miraculous reason (most likely because it was so late) the mall wasn't jam-packed with people like you'd expect during the holiday shopping season.
Tyler had come into Red Deer in his own vehicle so he took the boys back home and I had the two little ones. Before I even got Ryder into his car seat, he was screaming and crying, I assumed because he wanted his bottle. During the dentist visit, Tyler had taken Ryder in his stroller for a long walk around the mall, and had tucked his bottle away somewhere. I searched through Ryder's diaper bag, the shopping bags... nothing. No bottle. Arrghhh! Tyler must have put the bottle in one of his own shopping bags, which he'd taken with him when he left with the boys. So allllllll the way home I had to listen to Ryder screeching at the top of the lungs, wanting his baba. It was an absolute nightmare.
Then, about ten minutes from Sylvan, a U2 song came on the radio, Sunday Bloody Sunday. Suddenly there was silence. I turned the volume up and for the entire duration of the song, there was absolute, blessed silence. When the next song came back on, so did the screeching. I flipped through the radio stations, and came across another U2 song, With or Without You. Again, there was silence. For the entire song, nothing but silence. I was flabbergasted! Ryder loves U2!!! Of course, the screeching commenced when the song ended, and it continued until we got into the house. I quickly made a bottle for Ryder but when I gave it to him, he batted it out of my hand! He wanted nothing to do with it! WTF?! That has never happened before.
It was only when I spotted Ryder crouched down behind a chair, red-faced, grunting and straining, and then changed his pants only to find rock-hard rabbit turds, that I realized the poor little thing must have been constipated and had been having gas pains on the ride home. Awwwww!
But I did learn something tonight - that I need to pick up U2's Greatest Hits CD pronto for future screeching fits!!
Afterwards, we were able to do a bit of Christmas shopping and for some miraculous reason (most likely because it was so late) the mall wasn't jam-packed with people like you'd expect during the holiday shopping season.
Tyler had come into Red Deer in his own vehicle so he took the boys back home and I had the two little ones. Before I even got Ryder into his car seat, he was screaming and crying, I assumed because he wanted his bottle. During the dentist visit, Tyler had taken Ryder in his stroller for a long walk around the mall, and had tucked his bottle away somewhere. I searched through Ryder's diaper bag, the shopping bags... nothing. No bottle. Arrghhh! Tyler must have put the bottle in one of his own shopping bags, which he'd taken with him when he left with the boys. So allllllll the way home I had to listen to Ryder screeching at the top of the lungs, wanting his baba. It was an absolute nightmare.
Then, about ten minutes from Sylvan, a U2 song came on the radio, Sunday Bloody Sunday. Suddenly there was silence. I turned the volume up and for the entire duration of the song, there was absolute, blessed silence. When the next song came back on, so did the screeching. I flipped through the radio stations, and came across another U2 song, With or Without You. Again, there was silence. For the entire song, nothing but silence. I was flabbergasted! Ryder loves U2!!! Of course, the screeching commenced when the song ended, and it continued until we got into the house. I quickly made a bottle for Ryder but when I gave it to him, he batted it out of my hand! He wanted nothing to do with it! WTF?! That has never happened before.
It was only when I spotted Ryder crouched down behind a chair, red-faced, grunting and straining, and then changed his pants only to find rock-hard rabbit turds, that I realized the poor little thing must have been constipated and had been having gas pains on the ride home. Awwwww!
But I did learn something tonight - that I need to pick up U2's Greatest Hits CD pronto for future screeching fits!!
To Be (Nice) or Not To Be
I have a serious problem, people... I'm too nice. That's right, I am, why are you laughing? Maybe I should clarify a bit -- I'm too nice to strangers. With my family, I can be bossy, controlling (in a "its-for-your-own-good" way) and if I have an issue with someone, I'll tell it like it is. But when it comes to strangers, especially other women, I tend to suppress all that and take on a little-miss-perfect-and-sweet persona.
Specifically, I'm talking about the awful situation I've created by being too nice to the Jehovah's Witnesses that have been coming over. The first couple times they visited I was genuinely interested in what they had to say. I've always been curious about the different religions, what they stand for, what the differences are between them. So I wanted to know what was the deal with Jehovahs (or JWs). I did learn some new things, for instance -- God has a name (Jehovah); they don't believe in Heaven, as they think when the end of the world comes, evil will be destroyed and "the meek shall inherit the earth" like literally, there will be Heaven on Earth; the main principle of JW is that they follow the bible, well, religiously (haha, like my pun there?), like word-for-word; and that the idea of the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Ghost), which the JW do not believe in, comes from the Ancient Egyptian days (when the five main super-powers were Egypt, Syria, Rome and 2 others I can't remember), the Egyptians believed in 3 gods (Isis, Ra and the other one) and the idea of 3 gods carried to Rome, where they turned it into the Holy Trinity.
See, now wasn't that interesting? Things like that I enjoy finding out about. However, having the bible "explained" to me, is not. They give out this little booklet with chapters; each chapter talks about a different concept (such as justice, etc) and after each paragraph, there are questions, kind of like a review. Questions that they actually ASK you (to see if you've been paying attention? lol) and you are expected to answer. Now, I hated being put on the spot by the teachers when I was in school, everyone's eyes are on you, my face goes beet red and I can feel the heat-waves coming off me. But at least in school I knew all about the subjects and so I could answer correctly. With the JWs, the one lady in particular, she asks me a question and its like I'm rendered mute. Questions like "How does God feel about justice" and "How does God feel about your suffering?". She asked me those and I felt like a 3-year old being asked something from its preschool teacher. I was like, "Uh, um, God likes justice? He doesn't like my suffering?" I give my answers in a question form because I'm thinking, "WTF? What am I SUPPOSED to say? Doesn't the answer seem obvious? Geezsh! Please, someone phone me and say its an emergency! Please!! Anything, any excuse, to make them leave! Come on Carol, phone me dammit!"
I don't even know how the hell I got into this situation in the first place. After those first two visits, I'd fully planned to make some nice excuses and they would leave and that would be that. But no, even after I tried explaining how I feel about God and religion, tried to explain my unique concept of religion, they just didn't "get it". For every point I raised, they had an 'answer'. I told them that I DO believe in Heaven, I DO believe in spirits and souls and ghosts, I DO believe in reincarnation and fate. I made it plainly obvious that I would never convert, that I don't believe that reading the bible will make me a better person (I'm already a good person, darnit!), that I don't see how reading the bible cover-to-cover will make God love me more. If the bible is like God's diary, his way of letting us get to know and understand Him better (like they believe), that's like saying "Here Gunnar, read my diary, I'll love you more if you understand me better." No! It doesn't work like that when it comes to parental love. You love your child no matter what. So why is it so important that I be an expert on the bible? That's what I tried to explain to them, but of course they just didn't get it.
So after my failed attempt to make them understand, I made the foolish mistake of agreeing to another visit. I was kind of put on the spot - "So, does next Monday work for you?" - and her mother was there so I didn't want to seem rude, and I agreed. Thankfully, she was unable to make the appointment due to a family issue (maybe its not-so-nice to be thankful for someone's family emergency) but then she called here and, because I didn't recognize the cell number and thought it might be Trapper, I picked up. Doh! Suckered into making another appointment! Why, oh why don't I have the guts to just say I'm not interested? Because I'm too damn nice! That appointment fell through as Ryder had just gotten his one-year shots and was wayyyyy cranky. For which I was immensely grateful. Then, THEN, I did it again, answered the phone because I didn't recognize the number. So that arranged visit happened just the other day. Beforehand, I'd rehearsed in my head what I would say, something like 'I really like you Gwen and I'd love to visit with you, but without the bible'. But then she brought her sister and her sister's little 16-month-old. I can't reject her in front of her family! DOH!
So she's coming over AGAIN next Monday, hopefully alone, and HOPEFULLY I will have grown some balls by then so I can finally stop this madness and get back to my heathen lifestyle. Haha. Pray for me guys. (That's a joke, you got that right? LOL)
Specifically, I'm talking about the awful situation I've created by being too nice to the Jehovah's Witnesses that have been coming over. The first couple times they visited I was genuinely interested in what they had to say. I've always been curious about the different religions, what they stand for, what the differences are between them. So I wanted to know what was the deal with Jehovahs (or JWs). I did learn some new things, for instance -- God has a name (Jehovah); they don't believe in Heaven, as they think when the end of the world comes, evil will be destroyed and "the meek shall inherit the earth" like literally, there will be Heaven on Earth; the main principle of JW is that they follow the bible, well, religiously (haha, like my pun there?), like word-for-word; and that the idea of the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Ghost), which the JW do not believe in, comes from the Ancient Egyptian days (when the five main super-powers were Egypt, Syria, Rome and 2 others I can't remember), the Egyptians believed in 3 gods (Isis, Ra and the other one) and the idea of 3 gods carried to Rome, where they turned it into the Holy Trinity.
See, now wasn't that interesting? Things like that I enjoy finding out about. However, having the bible "explained" to me, is not. They give out this little booklet with chapters; each chapter talks about a different concept (such as justice, etc) and after each paragraph, there are questions, kind of like a review. Questions that they actually ASK you (to see if you've been paying attention? lol) and you are expected to answer. Now, I hated being put on the spot by the teachers when I was in school, everyone's eyes are on you, my face goes beet red and I can feel the heat-waves coming off me. But at least in school I knew all about the subjects and so I could answer correctly. With the JWs, the one lady in particular, she asks me a question and its like I'm rendered mute. Questions like "How does God feel about justice" and "How does God feel about your suffering?". She asked me those and I felt like a 3-year old being asked something from its preschool teacher. I was like, "Uh, um, God likes justice? He doesn't like my suffering?" I give my answers in a question form because I'm thinking, "WTF? What am I SUPPOSED to say? Doesn't the answer seem obvious? Geezsh! Please, someone phone me and say its an emergency! Please!! Anything, any excuse, to make them leave! Come on Carol, phone me dammit!"
I don't even know how the hell I got into this situation in the first place. After those first two visits, I'd fully planned to make some nice excuses and they would leave and that would be that. But no, even after I tried explaining how I feel about God and religion, tried to explain my unique concept of religion, they just didn't "get it". For every point I raised, they had an 'answer'. I told them that I DO believe in Heaven, I DO believe in spirits and souls and ghosts, I DO believe in reincarnation and fate. I made it plainly obvious that I would never convert, that I don't believe that reading the bible will make me a better person (I'm already a good person, darnit!), that I don't see how reading the bible cover-to-cover will make God love me more. If the bible is like God's diary, his way of letting us get to know and understand Him better (like they believe), that's like saying "Here Gunnar, read my diary, I'll love you more if you understand me better." No! It doesn't work like that when it comes to parental love. You love your child no matter what. So why is it so important that I be an expert on the bible? That's what I tried to explain to them, but of course they just didn't get it.
So after my failed attempt to make them understand, I made the foolish mistake of agreeing to another visit. I was kind of put on the spot - "So, does next Monday work for you?" - and her mother was there so I didn't want to seem rude, and I agreed. Thankfully, she was unable to make the appointment due to a family issue (maybe its not-so-nice to be thankful for someone's family emergency) but then she called here and, because I didn't recognize the cell number and thought it might be Trapper, I picked up. Doh! Suckered into making another appointment! Why, oh why don't I have the guts to just say I'm not interested? Because I'm too damn nice! That appointment fell through as Ryder had just gotten his one-year shots and was wayyyyy cranky. For which I was immensely grateful. Then, THEN, I did it again, answered the phone because I didn't recognize the number. So that arranged visit happened just the other day. Beforehand, I'd rehearsed in my head what I would say, something like 'I really like you Gwen and I'd love to visit with you, but without the bible'. But then she brought her sister and her sister's little 16-month-old. I can't reject her in front of her family! DOH!
So she's coming over AGAIN next Monday, hopefully alone, and HOPEFULLY I will have grown some balls by then so I can finally stop this madness and get back to my heathen lifestyle. Haha. Pray for me guys. (That's a joke, you got that right? LOL)
Monday, November 24, 2008
I'm sew dumb
So remember how I was all gung-ho a while back about sewing the boys' pants? And remember how well that went for me? And remember how frustrated and upset I was because I couldn't get the stitches nice and tight and non-tangly?
Well, the boys were on me the other night to finish sewing their pants because they're down to like two pairs each. We were in Red Deer the other night and I bought them each some new pants (mostly sweats and track pants for Ard, and jeans for Gunnar). But I knew I'd have to shorten those pants too, so I got out the sewing machine a couple days ago and decided to try this whole thing again. Wouldn't you know it, the seams I was sewing were all screwy, again. So this time I enlisted the help of my mom, seamstress extraordinaire, thinking she could probably fix whatever I was doing wrong.
She fiddled around for a bit on the machine, checking this and that, and as she's showing me the proper way to put the bobbin in, etc, I realized what a dough-head I am. Turns out I was putting the bobbin in the totally wrong way (should have been going in counter-clockwise), not only that but I hadn't even fit the bobbin in its little metal holder properly. Then she asks what setting I was using for the thread length. Huh? What's that mean? She checks the little dial and here I'd had it on the setting 24 (meaning the stitches would be very long) when it should have been on setting 8. Oops! So with everything fixed, she sewed a sample stitch on a facecloth and, of course, it turned out perfectly! Doh!
So she was giggling hysterically, picturing me trying to sew all these pants with my machine not even set up properly, while I was just thinking, "Great! Now I don't have an excuse not to do all these pants!" So that's what I've been doing these last couple days.
But I did come up with an excellent short-cut when it comes to measuring the proper length for the pants. Instead of using pins to mark where the hem should be (off topic, but have you ever looked at the word 'hem'? The more I look at it, the more I'm convinced I'm writing it wrong, its just a weird word. Anyway....), I used a marker! Brilliant! This way I know for sure where the hem (?) is!!
So I guess I'm not that dumb after all, I'm just a really crappy sewing-machine setter-upper! (Now there's a word for ya!)
LOL
Well, the boys were on me the other night to finish sewing their pants because they're down to like two pairs each. We were in Red Deer the other night and I bought them each some new pants (mostly sweats and track pants for Ard, and jeans for Gunnar). But I knew I'd have to shorten those pants too, so I got out the sewing machine a couple days ago and decided to try this whole thing again. Wouldn't you know it, the seams I was sewing were all screwy, again. So this time I enlisted the help of my mom, seamstress extraordinaire, thinking she could probably fix whatever I was doing wrong.
She fiddled around for a bit on the machine, checking this and that, and as she's showing me the proper way to put the bobbin in, etc, I realized what a dough-head I am. Turns out I was putting the bobbin in the totally wrong way (should have been going in counter-clockwise), not only that but I hadn't even fit the bobbin in its little metal holder properly. Then she asks what setting I was using for the thread length. Huh? What's that mean? She checks the little dial and here I'd had it on the setting 24 (meaning the stitches would be very long) when it should have been on setting 8. Oops! So with everything fixed, she sewed a sample stitch on a facecloth and, of course, it turned out perfectly! Doh!
So she was giggling hysterically, picturing me trying to sew all these pants with my machine not even set up properly, while I was just thinking, "Great! Now I don't have an excuse not to do all these pants!" So that's what I've been doing these last couple days.
But I did come up with an excellent short-cut when it comes to measuring the proper length for the pants. Instead of using pins to mark where the hem should be (off topic, but have you ever looked at the word 'hem'? The more I look at it, the more I'm convinced I'm writing it wrong, its just a weird word. Anyway....), I used a marker! Brilliant! This way I know for sure where the hem (?) is!!
So I guess I'm not that dumb after all, I'm just a really crappy sewing-machine setter-upper! (Now there's a word for ya!)
LOL
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Daily Funnies
I'm going to start a new thing here on the ole blog, Daily Funnies, where I write down all the hilarious things overheard around here on a daily basis. So here's a few from these last couple weeks...
Me: "Novembrance Day!! I like that, Gunnar! Its a new national holiday! Hahahaha! Wait til I tell everyone this..."
Gunnar: "Noooooo...!"
Ardan: "I am too! I watched it!"
Me and Gunnar: "You're a brave girl? Bwaahahahaha!"
Ardan: "Noooooo....!"
Gunnar: "Ardan is a girl, Ardan is a girl..."
Me: "Gunnar, enough."
Ardan: "Yeah!"
Gunnar: *whispering* "Girl..."
Me: "Gunnar!"
Ardan and Gunnar: "A homo? Hahahahaha!! (hysterical laughter, you know how boys are) Daddy is a homo, Daddy is a homo...!"
Me: "Okay, that's enough of THAT, boys! There is nothing wrong with being a homo, uh, I mean gay, I mean homosexual, uh..."
Ardan: "Mom said homo, Mom said homo..."
Me: "Arrrghhhhh!!"
The kids and I were discussing Remembrance Day, and the variations in how the US and Canada celebrates it -- for example, in the US its called Veterans Day and they don't do the poppy thing.
Gunnar: "That's funny how the US calls it Veterans Day and we call it Novembrance Day. Wait. Novembrance?"Me: "Novembrance Day!! I like that, Gunnar! Its a new national holiday! Hahahaha! Wait til I tell everyone this..."
Gunnar: "Noooooo...!"
We're in the vehicle, driving home from hockey, and the discussion was about scary movies, and how we couldn't believe Lena watched Stephen King's Rose Red and wasn't afraid (probably because everything went right over her head).
Me: "Wow Lena, I can't believe what a brave girl you are!"Ardan: "I am too! I watched it!"
Me and Gunnar: "You're a brave girl? Bwaahahahaha!"
Ardan: "Noooooo....!"
Gunnar: "Ardan is a girl, Ardan is a girl..."
Me: "Gunnar, enough."
Ardan: "Yeah!"
Gunnar: *whispering* "Girl..."
Me: "Gunnar!"
Its suppertime, we're all sitting around the table, and Tyler gets up to get something to drink. Because Ryder is now one, I've started weaning him off formula, mixing it half-and-half with homo milk. We haven't had homo milk in the house since Lena was a baby, I won't let the kids drink it because its so fattening, not to mention gross! Anyway, Tyler was ecstatic to see it in the fridge (that man would drink buttermilk if I let him).
Tyler: "Yesssss! Homo milk! And its all for me! *evil laugh* Since I'm..."Ardan and Gunnar: "A homo? Hahahahaha!! (hysterical laughter, you know how boys are) Daddy is a homo, Daddy is a homo...!"
Me: "Okay, that's enough of THAT, boys! There is nothing wrong with being a homo, uh, I mean gay, I mean homosexual, uh..."
Ardan: "Mom said homo, Mom said homo..."
Me: "Arrrghhhhh!!"
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The ultimate cheese
So I picked up a bunch of books from Value Village the other day (50% off sale!), these really old cheesy-looking Harlequin romance novels from decades ago; the oldest one was from 1978, the most recent one 1991. They're the sort of books that are like 'fluff' to me, easily read in about an hour, you know how its going to end but the characters are usually interesting. Usually.
As I was reading the first book, I noticed it had a few disturbing scenes, one in which the sexually-frustrated hero totally lashed out verbally at the heroine and had a little fit, mad that she'd 'teased' him. The guy seemed like a total barbarian, but the heroine... oh, she was so annoying, and timid, and kept rejecting the guy for totally lame reasons. Like, she was being unbelievably naive and innocent. Ugh! I was so frustrated with her.
In the books I read nowadays (deemed "vampire porn" by my BFF's hubby, I totally got her addicted to these books) the women are so fiery, so independent -- kick-ass women who know what they want in life. Of course, they're usually immortal Valkyries or some such, lol. I like reading books with women like this, seeing how they interact with the usually-aggressive or dominant heroes, how they stand up for themselves. (Not to mention, the love scenes in these books are HAAWWWTTT!!! No wonder her hubby calls them vampire porn.) Which is why I was getting so frustrated with the heroine from that Harlequin novel.
Then I realized that because this particular book was published in 1979, it reflected what women and men were like back then, or at least what their relationships were like. Or even maybe, the kind of drivel that women expected in their romance novels. Chauvinistic, aggressive-in-a-disturbing-way men, and innocent, inexperienced, passive women. This was probably before, or during, the women's lib movement. Maybe Harlequin thought it was too risky to have strong-willed, independent women. And God forbid the heroine should have some sexual experience. That was probably a big romance-novel no-no.
And you know, its kinda funny that its only now, as an almost-30-year-old, that I have come to the conclusion that these cheesy old Harlequins are a total waste of my reading-time. Back in my early teen years I couldn't get enough of them. But I guess back then, what did I know about men and women, and relationships, and women's lib. I didn't have a problem with the virginal, innocent heroine because that's what I was too. If anything, that probably made me feel better about myself ("Thank God I'm not the last virgin on earth! And she's older than me, too!"), lol.
But it makes me wonder if perhaps those cheesy Harlequins didn't somehow influence how I viewed relationships and guys, and serve to keep me in this innocent bubble for far longer than most normal girls at that age. I mean, I didn't kiss a boy (a real actual french kiss) until I was 16. 16!! I was in grade 11. Considering that all my friends had been playing spin-the-bottle at age 10, I was kind of a freak. And I won't even tell you at what age those girls were losing their v-cards, because you'll just be shocked and horrified and disgusted. Much like I was back then when I discovered just what everyone had been up to over summer holidays. (There I was going to the waterslides every day with my little brothers, meanwhile my friends were... well, you get the idea. Ugh!)
And then of course, consider that in the Harlequins the woman's 'first time' is always magical and wonderful and the earth moves and she always has an orgasm. Uh yeah. Okay. Wish mine would've been like that, lol. These books are fun and easy 'fluff' but there's kind of an underlying danger in reading them at so young of an age. I realize that now. Talk about unreal expectations! I remember feeling totally let-down that my first time wasn't anything like in those novels, and that my hero turned out to be a total loser. (And no, Tyler was not my first, so don't think he's the 'loser', haha.) There's also a danger in how these women were portrayed. No wonder women's lib was a long time coming, if this is the kind of crap that was put out there for them to read.
But I guess one good thing has come out of recently reading all these cheesy novels -- I've realized just how far we as women, and myself personally, have come. No more passive acceptance of chauvinistic male behaviour, no more shame or embarrassment for having needs and doing something about it. We're not afraid to stand up for ourselves, to tell it like it is, to go out and get what we want. We're kickass women and proud of it. Take that, cheesy Harlequins!
As I was reading the first book, I noticed it had a few disturbing scenes, one in which the sexually-frustrated hero totally lashed out verbally at the heroine and had a little fit, mad that she'd 'teased' him. The guy seemed like a total barbarian, but the heroine... oh, she was so annoying, and timid, and kept rejecting the guy for totally lame reasons. Like, she was being unbelievably naive and innocent. Ugh! I was so frustrated with her.
In the books I read nowadays (deemed "vampire porn" by my BFF's hubby, I totally got her addicted to these books) the women are so fiery, so independent -- kick-ass women who know what they want in life. Of course, they're usually immortal Valkyries or some such, lol. I like reading books with women like this, seeing how they interact with the usually-aggressive or dominant heroes, how they stand up for themselves. (Not to mention, the love scenes in these books are HAAWWWTTT!!! No wonder her hubby calls them vampire porn.) Which is why I was getting so frustrated with the heroine from that Harlequin novel.
Then I realized that because this particular book was published in 1979, it reflected what women and men were like back then, or at least what their relationships were like. Or even maybe, the kind of drivel that women expected in their romance novels. Chauvinistic, aggressive-in-a-disturbing-way men, and innocent, inexperienced, passive women. This was probably before, or during, the women's lib movement. Maybe Harlequin thought it was too risky to have strong-willed, independent women. And God forbid the heroine should have some sexual experience. That was probably a big romance-novel no-no.
And you know, its kinda funny that its only now, as an almost-30-year-old, that I have come to the conclusion that these cheesy old Harlequins are a total waste of my reading-time. Back in my early teen years I couldn't get enough of them. But I guess back then, what did I know about men and women, and relationships, and women's lib. I didn't have a problem with the virginal, innocent heroine because that's what I was too. If anything, that probably made me feel better about myself ("Thank God I'm not the last virgin on earth! And she's older than me, too!"), lol.
But it makes me wonder if perhaps those cheesy Harlequins didn't somehow influence how I viewed relationships and guys, and serve to keep me in this innocent bubble for far longer than most normal girls at that age. I mean, I didn't kiss a boy (a real actual french kiss) until I was 16. 16!! I was in grade 11. Considering that all my friends had been playing spin-the-bottle at age 10, I was kind of a freak. And I won't even tell you at what age those girls were losing their v-cards, because you'll just be shocked and horrified and disgusted. Much like I was back then when I discovered just what everyone had been up to over summer holidays. (There I was going to the waterslides every day with my little brothers, meanwhile my friends were... well, you get the idea. Ugh!)
And then of course, consider that in the Harlequins the woman's 'first time' is always magical and wonderful and the earth moves and she always has an orgasm. Uh yeah. Okay. Wish mine would've been like that, lol. These books are fun and easy 'fluff' but there's kind of an underlying danger in reading them at so young of an age. I realize that now. Talk about unreal expectations! I remember feeling totally let-down that my first time wasn't anything like in those novels, and that my hero turned out to be a total loser. (And no, Tyler was not my first, so don't think he's the 'loser', haha.) There's also a danger in how these women were portrayed. No wonder women's lib was a long time coming, if this is the kind of crap that was put out there for them to read.
But I guess one good thing has come out of recently reading all these cheesy novels -- I've realized just how far we as women, and myself personally, have come. No more passive acceptance of chauvinistic male behaviour, no more shame or embarrassment for having needs and doing something about it. We're not afraid to stand up for ourselves, to tell it like it is, to go out and get what we want. We're kickass women and proud of it. Take that, cheesy Harlequins!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Happy 1st Birthday, Baby Ryder!!
Well, I guess since he's now one, he's a 'toddler' not a baby. It was a very bittersweet day for me. You breathe a sigh of relief knowing the sometimes-difficult first year is behind you, but then you get a pang in your chest knowing that that wonderful, magical year of firsts is over. I go through this with all the kids on their birthdays (what the hell am I going to be like when my nest is empty! wahhhh!!!), feeling nostalgic for days gone by when they were tiny and dependent. But then I remind myself to find joy in the present, to cherish these new moments of discovery and independence, that this stage is precious and wonderful, too.
(Isn't he so cute in his new Oilers onesie? awwww) After much debating, I decided not to do the cake-thing, but instead got mini cupcakes with sprinkles. The cupcakes were Lena's idea, she went insane when she saw them in Walmart. She bugged me all that day and the next to let her eat "just one!! please!!" but no, they were for the night of Ryder's birthday. So she moped and whined and stared in tortured agony at those chocolate-frosted cupcakes. Haha!
Ryder LOVED the cupcakes, of course. He made an absolute mess of his highchair and it wasn't until after that I realized that the damn highchair cover is literally impossible to remove from the frame for cleaning. I had to CUT it off just so I could wash it. Arrrghhhh! I took lots of pictures of the cupcake feeding frenzy because that's one of the most important things of a b-day celebration for a one-year old -- pics of that adorable face smeared brow-to-chin with cake and frosting, baby fingers mashing cake all over the highchair tray, the glassy eyes as the sugar buzz kicks in...
Deedle-de-dee, po-TAY-toes!!
So on the radio the other day, I heard a little snippet of a guy's stand-up comedy routine. Omg, I laughed so hard I sprayed coffee all over the kitchen. I couldn't get the punch-line out of my head so I googled it and came up with a guy named Danny Bhoy. Here's a video clip of him with that hilarious joke. Its right at the beginning, so you don't have to watch the entire video if you don't want to.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Lest We Forget...
Tomorrow is Remembrance Day, and the kids and I are going to attend the service at the community centre. I want them to see and understand and realize the enormous sacrifice that was made and the tremendous debt we owe to the fallen soldiers and the veterans. I always ball like a baby at the service, especially when the old, fragile veterans proudly wearing their uniforms and medals, slowly make their way down the aisle to lay their wreaths; and to see the entire room full of people stand in honor of them, with hands over hearts, eyes glistening. This is a poem, written by Andrea Murray from Benalto, that was published in the Sylvan Lake News. It won first place in the senior poem category of the Royal Canadian Legion Remembrance Contest. Andrea read her poem at the Remembrance Day service at the Alberta Legislative Assembly on Wednesday; then she heads to Ottawa where she'll attend the National Remembrance Day Service, where she and the three other winners will place a wreath on behalf of the youth of Canada. Her poem is also displayed in the Canadian War Museum from July 1st, 2008 to May 1st, 2009.
Make sure to have some tissues handy...
Wisps of Memory
by Andrea Murray, Benalto, AB.
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
Mud plasters my front, cold wind whips my back
Brace yourselves, lads, its another attack!
We leap from the pits, our guns ready to fire
Bravado drains steadily with the sweat we perspire.
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
Feather light touches, a close brush with death
Another bullet sings by with a quickly drawn breath.
My aim ne'er wavered, my death-knell rang true --
But always we wondered whose brother we slew.
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
Each new trembling step, each next furtive mile
Death marched among us and flashed her grim smile.
The lumps in the ground, the blood freshly spilled
Cry out from the ground like Cain's cursed first kill.
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
Numbed fingers and toes, starved stomachs grew tight
And still we pressed on, to fight the good fight
My dwindling troop, once foolishly brave
Now lie snuggled together in poorly dug graves.
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
The question remained, the dark shadow of thought
Will we ever return? Will freedom be bought?
Yet the darkest of all, the bringer of fear --
How long will the terror of war linger near?
Courage! they cried. For Country! and died.
It came with a price, this thing we hold close
Of everything else, Peace cost us the most.
Their last solemn gift -- thus protect it, we must
Lest the trials of our forefathers crumble to dust.
Courage! they cried. For Country! they died.
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