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...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
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.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Exorcist-Boy does it again...
I'm assuming that by now, regular blog-readers and family members will know who I refer to when I say Exorcist-Boy, but if not, I'll explain...
About a month ago, No.4 -- Ryder -- came down with a bad cough. He would get into these coughing fits which would turn to gagging, which turned to puking. He learned real quick that puking got an awesome reaction from Mommy. So he continued to do it. Even after the cough was gone. He normally reserves it for when he's crying -- he developed this weird barking cry, which is a sure sign that puke is on its way. Everyone in the family is well-aware of that particular cry and we know to either run for a towel or for cover, lol.
The famous story my mom tells is how, when she was babysitting all 4 for me one night, Ryder started crying and Gunnar said, "Uh oh, that's his puke cry!" Mom was like Huh? Then -- blaghhhhh, all over himself, the floor, my mom... So she came up with the name Exorcist-Boy, you know, from the movie, and the projectile puking...
I kept telling myself This is a phase, he'll stop doing it but its going on more than a month now and the little bugger still does it, ALL THE FRIGGIN' TIME! I'm not worried that he's being starved or getting dehydrated because he still bangs back the bottles and eats handfuls of food [um, meaning he likes to eat with his hands not that I only give him handfuls of food, wanted to clear that up! lol). But its so frustrating and kinda hard on the parental ego, to be basically held hostage by the power the threat of puking has. And that its an almost-one year old that is intentionally tormenting me and flaunting his sheer puke-power over me... argghh!!
You think I'm being dramatic there. No. You don't get it. This child knows what he is doing. He wakes up at night or in the morning, and if I don't get my sleep-dead ass to his bedside with a bottle pronto, yep -- there starts the barking cry. Then a warning gag. (At this point, I'm in the kitchen frantically getting his bottle ready.) If I'm still making him wait, he gets mad, cries louder, and... blagghhhh. If I'm lucky, and this sounds mean, his stomach will be empty and only a little spot of puke will be on his blanket or sleeper. Don't give me that look. What, you're thinking its gross to just wipe off the tiny blob? You would put a new sleeper on the kid, disrupting him while he's sleepily drinking his bottle, potentially riling him up; or that you would take his warm, soft, wrinkled blankie out from under and around him, throwing it in the dirty laundry, and replacing it with a cold, stiff, folded one? Oh, you little dear... us seasoned moms know better.
I sometimes wish I could just do to Ryder what Kate did to her one daughter on Jon & Kate + 8 -- make the kid wear the wet puke-stained clothes all day, as punishment for intentional puking and using that as a threat to get their own way all the time. But her girl was about two, Ryder's turning one next week. It would just be cruel to make a baby wear cold wet clothes when they don't really understand that its punishment. (Also, with the amount of time that kid spends trying to crawl up my legs, or being hauled around on my hip, ugh, no thanks.)
So, he did it to me again the other day. He didn't agree that he should get his diaper changed and started crying when I picked him up. As we're going down the hallway, the particular cry starts up. He gagged, and I could tell it was the real deal. I'm a little embarrassed and horrified to admit that I, uh, covered his mouth with my hand as I rushed towards his bedroom. I guess I wasn't really thinking at that point, it was just panic running through me not common sense (you were right Dad, lol). Else I would have realized that 1) the bathroom would be a more logical place to take a puking kid, with its tiled, not carpeted, floor; 2) there's really no holding back or stopping a puke geyser; and 3) if you DO try to hold it back, it will just find another route to freedom, such as tiny baby nostrils.
Needless to say, both Ryder and I were pretty traumatized by the experience. He continued to leak puke-snot from his nose for an hour afterward. And I got to deal with curdled milk on a black shag rug.
So if anyone's got advice or helpful ways to deal with this puking situation, I'm all ears. I know from experience that eventually he will pass this phase, but I don't know if my washing machine can take much more. Help!
About a month ago, No.4 -- Ryder -- came down with a bad cough. He would get into these coughing fits which would turn to gagging, which turned to puking. He learned real quick that puking got an awesome reaction from Mommy. So he continued to do it. Even after the cough was gone. He normally reserves it for when he's crying -- he developed this weird barking cry, which is a sure sign that puke is on its way. Everyone in the family is well-aware of that particular cry and we know to either run for a towel or for cover, lol.
The famous story my mom tells is how, when she was babysitting all 4 for me one night, Ryder started crying and Gunnar said, "Uh oh, that's his puke cry!" Mom was like Huh? Then -- blaghhhhh, all over himself, the floor, my mom... So she came up with the name Exorcist-Boy, you know, from the movie, and the projectile puking...
I kept telling myself This is a phase, he'll stop doing it but its going on more than a month now and the little bugger still does it, ALL THE FRIGGIN' TIME! I'm not worried that he's being starved or getting dehydrated because he still bangs back the bottles and eats handfuls of food [um, meaning he likes to eat with his hands not that I only give him handfuls of food, wanted to clear that up! lol). But its so frustrating and kinda hard on the parental ego, to be basically held hostage by the power the threat of puking has. And that its an almost-one year old that is intentionally tormenting me and flaunting his sheer puke-power over me... argghh!!
You think I'm being dramatic there. No. You don't get it. This child knows what he is doing. He wakes up at night or in the morning, and if I don't get my sleep-dead ass to his bedside with a bottle pronto, yep -- there starts the barking cry. Then a warning gag. (At this point, I'm in the kitchen frantically getting his bottle ready.) If I'm still making him wait, he gets mad, cries louder, and... blagghhhh. If I'm lucky, and this sounds mean, his stomach will be empty and only a little spot of puke will be on his blanket or sleeper. Don't give me that look. What, you're thinking its gross to just wipe off the tiny blob? You would put a new sleeper on the kid, disrupting him while he's sleepily drinking his bottle, potentially riling him up; or that you would take his warm, soft, wrinkled blankie out from under and around him, throwing it in the dirty laundry, and replacing it with a cold, stiff, folded one? Oh, you little dear... us seasoned moms know better.
I sometimes wish I could just do to Ryder what Kate did to her one daughter on Jon & Kate + 8 -- make the kid wear the wet puke-stained clothes all day, as punishment for intentional puking and using that as a threat to get their own way all the time. But her girl was about two, Ryder's turning one next week. It would just be cruel to make a baby wear cold wet clothes when they don't really understand that its punishment. (Also, with the amount of time that kid spends trying to crawl up my legs, or being hauled around on my hip, ugh, no thanks.)
So, he did it to me again the other day. He didn't agree that he should get his diaper changed and started crying when I picked him up. As we're going down the hallway, the particular cry starts up. He gagged, and I could tell it was the real deal. I'm a little embarrassed and horrified to admit that I, uh, covered his mouth with my hand as I rushed towards his bedroom. I guess I wasn't really thinking at that point, it was just panic running through me not common sense (you were right Dad, lol). Else I would have realized that 1) the bathroom would be a more logical place to take a puking kid, with its tiled, not carpeted, floor; 2) there's really no holding back or stopping a puke geyser; and 3) if you DO try to hold it back, it will just find another route to freedom, such as tiny baby nostrils.
Needless to say, both Ryder and I were pretty traumatized by the experience. He continued to leak puke-snot from his nose for an hour afterward. And I got to deal with curdled milk on a black shag rug.
So if anyone's got advice or helpful ways to deal with this puking situation, I'm all ears. I know from experience that eventually he will pass this phase, but I don't know if my washing machine can take much more. Help!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Omg not another SMELL!!
Lately I've been noticing that there is a smell in the laundry room, and it is driving me nuts!! At first (thanks to my other smell experience) I thought it might be cat poop, so I ransacked the room, searched high and low -- no cat poop. Then I thought it could possibly be an old nasty wet towel that was slowly rotting to death somewhere in there. Tore through everything again - nothing. What the hell?!
So today I'm folding laundry down there, breathing through my mouth (which is just as bad because in science class one time, we learned that your taste buds play a huge part in smelling things; you're actually TASTING what you are smelling -- remember that next time your DH farts nearby). Then it hits me - OH MY FRIGGIN' GOD. Tyler had a huge stash of bait in the freezer and recently someone (not naming names but that person's name rhymes with Schmo) left the freezer door open a crack and everything in the door compartments thawed. And guess where all his bait was? Yep.
So when I remembered that, I yanked open the freezer to see if they were still in there -- no. Gone. And I have a SNEAKING suspicion that I know exactly where they are. In the trash can. In the laundry room. Right next to the dryer. Covered with layer upon layer of lint and used-up bounce sheets, but still exerting their evil power of decomposing, rotting STENCH all throughout the laundry room.
And I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to be the one who empties that trash can. Oh HELL no. But, as I told Tyler the other day (making sure the kids were close enough to hear), "Honey, you agreed when we had kids that the whole reason we wanted FOUR was because we needed slaves to do our every bidding." Muahahahahahahaha!!
So today I'm folding laundry down there, breathing through my mouth (which is just as bad because in science class one time, we learned that your taste buds play a huge part in smelling things; you're actually TASTING what you are smelling -- remember that next time your DH farts nearby). Then it hits me - OH MY FRIGGIN' GOD. Tyler had a huge stash of bait in the freezer and recently someone (not naming names but that person's name rhymes with Schmo) left the freezer door open a crack and everything in the door compartments thawed. And guess where all his bait was? Yep.
So when I remembered that, I yanked open the freezer to see if they were still in there -- no. Gone. And I have a SNEAKING suspicion that I know exactly where they are. In the trash can. In the laundry room. Right next to the dryer. Covered with layer upon layer of lint and used-up bounce sheets, but still exerting their evil power of decomposing, rotting STENCH all throughout the laundry room.
And I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to be the one who empties that trash can. Oh HELL no. But, as I told Tyler the other day (making sure the kids were close enough to hear), "Honey, you agreed when we had kids that the whole reason we wanted FOUR was because we needed slaves to do our every bidding." Muahahahahahahaha!!
We love you and miss you, Kelly!
Hey everyone, just wanted to let you all know that my BFF Kelly Milne (you remember her, the wild and crazy gal that sells sex toys, and makes me laugh so hard I... well, you know..., and encourages my drunken debauchery on the few times I'm lucky enough to go out with her) has her VERY OWN BLOG now! Woot woot!
I adamantly encouraged her to start one up, because she was telling me all these hilarious stories of her experiences overseas in Australia, and I said "You gotta write this stuff down!" So she did -- and her blog is friggin' hilarious! Read the post about Cyrus and the Ninja, I laughed so hard I almost, well, you know... LOL
Here's the link to her blog:
www.kellymilne.blogspot.com
Check it out okay? And leave comments!
I adamantly encouraged her to start one up, because she was telling me all these hilarious stories of her experiences overseas in Australia, and I said "You gotta write this stuff down!" So she did -- and her blog is friggin' hilarious! Read the post about Cyrus and the Ninja, I laughed so hard I almost, well, you know... LOL
Here's the link to her blog:
www.kellymilne.blogspot.com
Check it out okay? And leave comments!
Halloween candy is EVIL!
Especially those little tiny chocolate bars that call to me, late at night, "Come eeeeat me, I am deeeeelicous, what will one teeeeeeny chocolate bar hurt, I am like 60 calorieeeees, you know you waaaaant me..."
Damn you mini KitKat bars! You lie! What will one bar hurt? You know I can never stop at one! Ten mini bars later and my stomach is killing me and I'm wracked with dieter's guilt and I have stomach "issues" all the next day!!
On the plus side, my tummy "issues" have traumatized me so badly that I've sworn off any and all Halloween candy -- I can barely bring myself to look at the bulging bag of goodies when I reach in there in the morning to grab one piece each for the boys' lunches. (One piece, haha, I'm a "cruel" mom, as Ardan said, because "all the other moms put like ten pieces in their kids lunch!" Oh ya RIGHT, Ardan, I can be spacey but I'm not that dumb!)
I am bound and determined to lose at least ten pounds before Christmas because there's a pair of pants I want to wear at the holiday get-togethers. To quote my new hero: "Yes I can!"
Damn you mini KitKat bars! You lie! What will one bar hurt? You know I can never stop at one! Ten mini bars later and my stomach is killing me and I'm wracked with dieter's guilt and I have stomach "issues" all the next day!!
On the plus side, my tummy "issues" have traumatized me so badly that I've sworn off any and all Halloween candy -- I can barely bring myself to look at the bulging bag of goodies when I reach in there in the morning to grab one piece each for the boys' lunches. (One piece, haha, I'm a "cruel" mom, as Ardan said, because "all the other moms put like ten pieces in their kids lunch!" Oh ya RIGHT, Ardan, I can be spacey but I'm not that dumb!)
I am bound and determined to lose at least ten pounds before Christmas because there's a pair of pants I want to wear at the holiday get-togethers. To quote my new hero: "Yes I can!"
America, I am so damn proud of you!!!
"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.
Its the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.
Its the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.
Its the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
Its been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.
I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston. It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generations apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.
I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctors bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.
The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.
There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way its been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.
What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you. So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, its that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.
Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.
And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.
For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. Shes a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.
She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.
And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that We Shall Overcome. Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?
This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."
- President Elect Barack Obama
Its the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.
Its the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.
Its the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
Its been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.
I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston. It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generations apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.
I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctors bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.
The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.
There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way its been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.
What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you. So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, its that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.
Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.
And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.
For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. Shes a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.
She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.
And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that We Shall Overcome. Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?
This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."
- President Elect Barack Obama
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Morning Musings (and Confessions)
Okay, so in my last post I talked about Tyler resetting my alarm clock. I brought it up that night and started in on my rant, saying he was busted, now I knew for a fact that he was capable of setting the alarm, etc, and he gets this confused look on his face and starts shaking his head. "No, no, definitely not. I did NOT reset the alarm. What are you talking about?" You know, you told me you reset the alarm to an hour earlier so you could go hunting. He bursts out laughing. "What?! For real, you think I said that?" Now I'm getting pissed off because he keeps denying he did it. "I think you must have dreamt that, babe. You WERE mumbling in your sleep. I definitely did NOT say that." He keeps laughing at me. So now I'm totally confused, because someone set the alarm, maybe possibly it was me, but I distinctly recall having that conversation with him, which he flat-out denies happening. Maybe with the time change, my alarm got effed up and went off an hour early by itself? I don't understand. Man, I really hate Daylight Savings!! Not to mention, how embarrassing that I had a dream-conversation and I actually thought it was real! Gah.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I put Ryder to bed last night at 7:30, while we were having a late dinner. We'd just spent 3 HOURS at the arena; Gunnar had a practice right after school, then both boys had team pictures. Poor Ryder didn't get to have his 2nd nap (which usually goes from 2:30-4) because we had to leave to pick the boys up from school. Well, he got to have 15 minutes sleep, and was so tired he slept through me putting on his boots and coat. He was pretty cranky at the arena because of that. So we get home, get supper going, everyone's eating, and Ryder has a meltdown. Gave him a "loaded" bottle (put some pablum in with the formula) and plopped him in his crib; he banged the bottle down in like a minute then was instantly snoring. I went back to the table, finished supper, helped clear a few dishes, then suddenly this cloud of exhaustion overcame me and I went to lay down "just for a few minutes, guys". Next thing I know, its 2:30 in the morning! WTF? I couldn't believe it! My contacts were still in, felt like my eyes were full of glass shards whenever I blinked. Everyone's in bed, table's cleared, floor swept (what good boys I have, they do their after-supper chores even when I'm not there to remind them). I wandered around a bit in a daze, then went back to bed -- after I peeled the contacts off, of course! Yeeeouch. Next thing I know its 4:30 and Ryder is up and wanting a bottle. 4:30 a.m. people! That means he slept for 9 HOURS STRAIGHT! Holy crap! I almost did a dance of friggin' joy! Except, I thought about it, that means one of two things: either I deprive him of his 2nd nap so he sleeps through the night (and thus miss my own nap, causing me to pass out at the ungodly hour of 8pm), or I let him have his 2nd nap so I can have mine, which would enable me to stay up long enough to put the other kids to bed and do all my fun after-supper stuff (but then have to suffer through Ryder waking up 2-4 times a night for various reasons). Dilemma, dilemma! But really, having had my first "real" sleep in almost a year was friggin' AWESOME so I guess this means I'm gonna have to start having a nightly pot of coffee in addition to my morning pot. I love you caffeine, please don't ever leave me...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
So I did something yesterday at the arena -- it was my first REAL, true "Mama Kasha" moment. For those of you who don't get this, my mom's nickname when we were kids was Mama Hagar, or Mama Hag, or just Hag for short. Dad gave her this nickname from the Hagar the Horrible comic strip. Some of you are horrified I know (LOL) but that's just the kind of quirky, loving relationship they had. For us kids, when the Mama Hagar came out of our mom, we knew to duck and cover or run and hide, because the pin was out of the grenade and it just remained to be seen what would be blown.
** Editor's Note: I just want to clarify that when I talk about the "Mama Hagar moments", I'm referring to those moments, WITH OTHER KIDS. Like, when some kid was at our house and thought it would be fun to torment the cat, or snoop through Dad's stuff, things like that. THAT was when the Mama Hagar came out and with no hesitation, would swat that kid on the ass or kick them out of the house. Us kids rarely saw Mama Hagar because we were perfect angels, right mom? Haha.
So back to my moment...
The kids were running wild, doing their thing with all their little friends, and I decided to slip outside for a quick puff. As I walked past the the game machines, I saw Lena hanging out with two other girls. Right in front of me, the one girl gives Lena a little kick to the stomach. "Hey now, that's not nice! Don't do that". Thinking that was that, I looked down at Ryder, making sure he was warm enough, then look up to see this girl give Lena a HUGE push which sends her flying like six feet, trying to keep her feet under her, then Lena landed with a huge whoosh on her stomach. I friggin' lost it! Yelled the girls name as I'm helping Lena to her feet, then I whirl around to face this girl and tell her "Apologize NOW! That is NOT nice! You don't do that! Lena get your coat, you're coming outside with me, and you are not allowed to play with her anymore today!" I was so furious. This girl has been kinda mean to Lena in the past, sometimes she'll play with her nicely and they get along great, other times she'll completely ignore Lena or flat-out refuse to play with her. Poor Lena gets so confused and hurt when that happens. But to kick her, then physically shove her so hard she goes flying across the room!? I didn't even look to see if the girls mom had noticed or anyone else, I just got Lena and went outside. Cooled down for a bit while I puffed furiously. Then I started to feel bad. So I went back inside and saw this girl in her mom's arms, crying hysterically, while her mom took her to the bathroom. Followed them inside and apologized, "I'm sorry for scaring you, honey, and making you cry. Do you know why I yelled and got mad?" Rubbed her back, "You have to remember that Lena is only 3 and you are 5. Maybe you were just playing but she's only little and doesn't know that. She could have really gotten hurt. But I'm sorry I scared you. Its scary when strangers yell at you, isn't it?" At this point, I looked to her mom (who can be a little intimidating sometimes in her own way) and apologized again for scaring her, she just said, "She'll be fine" and picked her up and left. So yeah, I'm probably in the shithouse with her now. But if it comes to the point where I have to defend myself against another angry mama bear, I know that in the same situation I would still react the same way, only maybe a tad bit quieter. I DO have a really loud voice when I'm pissed off. And if my kid had acted that way towards another child (not that they EVER would) I would fully expect that mother to yell at my kid. But it did create an awkward situation. I kept imagining that the other hockey moms were snubbing me so I sat with Ardan by the window and just watched Gunnar, instead of mingling. We'll see at the next practice how everyone acts, then I'll know if its imagined or not.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I hate Daylight Savings...
So Gunnar had a game in Rocky today, from 12-2. I knew we'd have to be outta here by 10:30 to get there by 11:30 (giving myself lots of driving time, you never know if you're gonna have to pull over to clean up exorcist-boy's puke or let one of the boys whizz on the side of the road). I knew I wanted to get up a bit early, so I could shower and get pretty, maybe do some tidying, before getting the kids up, fed, and ready. I set my alarm for 7:30, but for some reason it went off an hour early! WTF!? Tyler rolls over, "Oh yeah, when you were sleeping I reset the alarm because I want to go hunting." Grrrr! Every man should know that there are some things you never do to a woman:
1) Go through her purse -- even if she tells you its okay, its NOT.
2) Criticize her driving and/or cooking skills.
3) Laugh when she cries.
and 4) Reset her alarm clock!!!
And now that I think of it, all these years he's had me setting the alarm for him. I get up at 7 every morning so its no big deal if he has to be up a little earlier, I just roll over and reset it for myself (once I've made sure he actually IS awake). But on the mornings where he has to be out of here by 4:30 or 5, that's so annoying that I have to do his alarm. I've tried making him set his own alarm clock (he conveniently lost it after I made him do this a couple of times) and I've tried showing him how to set the alarm on his cell phone. But his excuse has always been, "I don't know how to do it" or "I don't understand all the buttons". So yeah, thinking about what he did last night, resetting my alarm, now I have PROOF that he is a big liar! Ooooooo he's getting it tonight! And not in the good way....
Anyway, back to Gunnar's hockey, and my whole point of this post. So we're rushing around here this morning, its a huge gong show. Making sure Gunnar's dressed in his "game" clothes and has all his gear loaded, packing Ryder's bag with extra clothes for when, not if, he pukes, toys for Ardan and Lena to play with at the arena, snacks so I don't get bombarded with "I'm hungry, buy me something" at the arena, last-minute check of the hair and makeup. Couldn't find my frickin' sunglasses, which is soooo hellish for my light-sensitive eyes. Found my cell phone charger in a drawer when I was looking for my shades (the charger's been missing for weeks, so if you've tried to phone or text me during that time - SORRY!) so then I had to round up the adapter and find my damn cell so I could charge it while driving. FINALLY we're ready to go and we hit the road.
Made it to Rocky in record time, only half an hour! Pulled up at the arena (after having to stop and ask two young boys for directions, Gunnar was MORTIFIED and tried to slink down in the seat next to me as I yelled out his window) around 11. So in my mind we had half an hour to kill before Gunnar had to get ready. We're waiting, and waiting... and waiting. No one is showing up. It's now 11:45 and I'm seriously perturbed. Where the hell is everyone? Did the game get cancelled and I'm the only one who didn't check my email? No, the game is still listed up on the board. What the hell is going on, I'm thinking.
Finally, I see Luke and Lindsay with little Colton (his name should be another l-word, I love alliteration). She's like, "Yeah, we're here a little early. I didn't think anyone else would be here yet!" I was like, "What are you talking about?" Oh, didn't you remember it was Daylight Savings last night? WHAT?!?! Are you freaking kidding me?!
So, I woke up this morning at 5:30 A.M. (thanks Tyler) not 6:30 like I thought, did all that racing around, was out the door by 9:30 A.M., made it to the arena at 10 A.M. for a game that started at NOON! Oh yeah, all the hockey moms thought that was just hilarious, "Beau, you are sooo funny!" HARDY HAR, ladies. The jokes on me.
I frickin' HATE Daylight Savings.
1) Go through her purse -- even if she tells you its okay, its NOT.
2) Criticize her driving and/or cooking skills.
3) Laugh when she cries.
and 4) Reset her alarm clock!!!
And now that I think of it, all these years he's had me setting the alarm for him. I get up at 7 every morning so its no big deal if he has to be up a little earlier, I just roll over and reset it for myself (once I've made sure he actually IS awake). But on the mornings where he has to be out of here by 4:30 or 5, that's so annoying that I have to do his alarm. I've tried making him set his own alarm clock (he conveniently lost it after I made him do this a couple of times) and I've tried showing him how to set the alarm on his cell phone. But his excuse has always been, "I don't know how to do it" or "I don't understand all the buttons". So yeah, thinking about what he did last night, resetting my alarm, now I have PROOF that he is a big liar! Ooooooo he's getting it tonight! And not in the good way....
Anyway, back to Gunnar's hockey, and my whole point of this post. So we're rushing around here this morning, its a huge gong show. Making sure Gunnar's dressed in his "game" clothes and has all his gear loaded, packing Ryder's bag with extra clothes for when, not if, he pukes, toys for Ardan and Lena to play with at the arena, snacks so I don't get bombarded with "I'm hungry, buy me something" at the arena, last-minute check of the hair and makeup. Couldn't find my frickin' sunglasses, which is soooo hellish for my light-sensitive eyes. Found my cell phone charger in a drawer when I was looking for my shades (the charger's been missing for weeks, so if you've tried to phone or text me during that time - SORRY!) so then I had to round up the adapter and find my damn cell so I could charge it while driving. FINALLY we're ready to go and we hit the road.
Made it to Rocky in record time, only half an hour! Pulled up at the arena (after having to stop and ask two young boys for directions, Gunnar was MORTIFIED and tried to slink down in the seat next to me as I yelled out his window) around 11. So in my mind we had half an hour to kill before Gunnar had to get ready. We're waiting, and waiting... and waiting. No one is showing up. It's now 11:45 and I'm seriously perturbed. Where the hell is everyone? Did the game get cancelled and I'm the only one who didn't check my email? No, the game is still listed up on the board. What the hell is going on, I'm thinking.
Finally, I see Luke and Lindsay with little Colton (his name should be another l-word, I love alliteration). She's like, "Yeah, we're here a little early. I didn't think anyone else would be here yet!" I was like, "What are you talking about?" Oh, didn't you remember it was Daylight Savings last night? WHAT?!?! Are you freaking kidding me?!
So, I woke up this morning at 5:30 A.M. (thanks Tyler) not 6:30 like I thought, did all that racing around, was out the door by 9:30 A.M., made it to the arena at 10 A.M. for a game that started at NOON! Oh yeah, all the hockey moms thought that was just hilarious, "Beau, you are sooo funny!" HARDY HAR, ladies. The jokes on me.
I frickin' HATE Daylight Savings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)