I'M THE MOMMY - THAT'S WHY

Domesticated Dogs and Free-Range Children

2011-09-23T06:44:00.000-07:00

Free-Range Kids in Wikipedia.
Free-Range Kids on the interwebs.
Child Restraint "Leashes" Harness, Backpack.
And I assume you all know what a domesticated dog is:

Are we all up to speed now? Good.

One of the recent battles in the so-called "Mommy Wars" is the use of child restraint harnesses that just so happen to resemble a common pet leash. Though not worn around the child's neck, these products come in a myriad of other styles such as backpacks, shoulder-to-shoulder figure-eights, chest straps, and wrist straps. The general idea is to rig one end to your offspring and the other to yourself, thereby preventing your child from being more than three or so feet from you at all times.

Who would have thought they would create such kerfuffle?

Those in favour of child leashes argue that they offer a measure of protection for a child who may decide to bolt into traffic, or a safe option for a willful toddler who refuses to hold mommy's hand. They report they're also a great alternative to popular-but-isolating baby containment devices such as strollers or wagons, allowing the child to be a part of the world and getting excercise instead of passively watching the world go by from his little wheeled bubble.

Those opposed say leashes are for dogs.

I say the gap between how we treat our children and how we treat our pets is rapidly shrinking - and in some ways reversing - so if you're getting bent out of shape about this you'd better just go lie down now.

From a product standpoint, there's a noticeable overlap:

They make diapers for dogs.

They make chew toys for babies.

They make strollers for dogs.

They make crates (er, cribs) for babies.

They make outfits for dogs.

They make puppies for babies.

They make bottles for dogs.

They make fur coats for babies.

And judging from the products on the market, there's a distinct trend of treating the dog (pet) like a child. There's even a term for it: Fur Babies.

Directly juxtaposed with that, there's the movement for what's become known as "Free-Range Kids" (see links at start of post). In free-range parenting, much like free-range chicken raising, ones chicks are encouraged to roam unrestricted. Sometimes metaphorically. Anyway, the point is that your dog is penned up and your kid is loose, or the dog is in a stroller and the baby's on a leash, or one of them is wearing the others' booties. They're also probably both drinking from the same water dish and likely sharing a biscuit.

This whole argument is like asking "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

If you treat dogs like people then you shouldn't be surprised to find yourself treating people like dogs.

Parenting 101: Things I lernt on teh interwebz

2010-10-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

The rule these days is that you can't spank your kids because that is abuse and will turn your kids into serial killers. Additionally, a time-out in a corner apparently only serves to humiliate and segregate the child, so that's out as well. In this day and age it is clear that the only acceptable way to handle a temper tantrum from a rambunctious three year old is to take the entire family to a therapist in order to talk about what the three year old is feeeeeeeeling.

Looks comfy to me

2010-08-26T19:31:00.000-07:00

Why yes, Finn, I *do* think you still need your afternoon nap.

Word Of The Day

2010-08-25T20:32:00.000-07:00

Crapalanche: -noun

A large mass of clutter, papers, knick-knacks, etc., detached from a larger pile of same and sliding or falling suddenly downward.
Literally, an avalanche of crap.
What happens when you open the door to my storage room.

From the dictionary of Finnigan:

2010-08-12T19:28:00.000-07:00

Faydeator'd: -noun

A beverage containing carbohydrates, minerals, vitamins, and other supplements to help replenish fluids and nutrients used during vigorous exercise and sport.
Gatorade.
The stuff Finn will hunt. you. down. for - and you can't hide, he KNOWS when you have it.

Parenting is hard

2010-08-12T12:12:00.001-07:00

Today I am faced with a parenting dilemma. My child said some things to someone in a position of authority that reflects very badly on my as a parent, and it was categorically untrue. Now, there's no way to argue it, because of course a parent would deny the things she said regardless of truth. In this case, things like squishing them in the back of the car without the legally-required booster seats, and having cats that "poo and pee on everything" (Which could only partially be proven otherwise; the meeting was at my house so clearly it was untrue at this time, but the meeting was planned so I had the advantage of knowing they were coming).

The problem is that Rachel has attention-seeking issues. People often say how full of 'personality' she is, and that "she belongs on stage". I've spoken to her repeatedly about the difference between being honest and being dramatic. But the moment she has an audience, all that flies out the window and she will happily invent stories that incorporate things she thinks her listeners want to hear. This quality should serve her well as an adult, but it's really making things sticky for me right now.

My dilemma is this:

Do you let your child know when you are angry at them? Is it healthy or unhealthy for her to know that I am quite angry with her for the lies she told to get attention? Not just disappointed, angry. I am angry at her. I am frustrated with her. I'm mad at her. Right now I'm staying away from her because I don't have anything nice to say and I'm not ready to forgive her or tell her it's ok. It's NOT ok. She's in deep shit.

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place as to how to deal with this. I've grounded her to her room for the rest of the day (at least, I will revisit this when The Daddy gets home and is briefed on the situation), but does that reflect badly on me too? Could that be interpreted at punishing her for not saying what I wanted her to say (as if I'd coached her to say a lie, and what she said was the truth), rather than what it is - punishing her for telling bold-faced lies in an effort to garner attention for herself? She is by no means ignored, this is her personality 24/7/365, and anyone who's ever met her will attest to this fact.

She's seven, nearly eight. I get that her little brain is still completely self-absorbed and she cannot make the connection between what she's saying and the implications it has for her family unit. But I need to put a lid on this before she does permanent damage.

Random crap I like:

2010-08-11T18:53:00.000-07:00

For WAHM ("Work At Home Mom) made stuff:

Hyena Cart

For Cloth Diapers:

Bagshot Row Bamboo
Pooligans
Spots

For Natural-mama stuff:

Parenting By Nature

For Babywearing:

Birdie's Room
The Babywearer
Didymos

More to come...

Learned my lesson

2010-08-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to be productive and domesticated. I picked up toys, did dishes, wiped down the walls in the living room...

Right in the middle of simultaneously vacuuming the front entryway carpet, ironing a wrap, and doing laundry, all the power went out.

My husband would have you believe that I overloaded the poor breakers in our 1950's house, but I like to think it was a sign from God that I shouldn't be allowed to clean anymore.

From the Dictionary of Finnigan

2010-08-08T19:10:00.000-07:00

Cheese Butter: -noun

A soft, white, smooth-textured, unripened, spreadable cheese made of sweet milk and sometimes cream.
Cream Cheese
The stuff that goes on his blueberry bagel, which took 15 minutes of toddler charades and pointing at things in the refrigerator to identify.

Wherein I confess my love for Pyrex

2010-08-08T18:48:00.001-07:00

I love Pyrex. Old Pyrex, not the new Corelle crap that splinters into a trillion shards if you drop it. Give some old-school, double-baked milk glass Pyrex dishes and nobody gets hurt!

See, I have the butterfingers. I. Break. Everything. I've gone through two complete sets of drinking glasses just this year so far, and half my stoneware dinner set. I don't know how it happens, things just break around me! Two glasses broke yesterday because Rachel's sunflower LEAPED off the windowsill and landed on them. The sunflower survived, the glasses did not.

Know what the problem is? The problem is that the old-school, double-baked milk glass Pyrex isn't made any more - it's all the new Corelle crap that splinters into a trillion shards if you drop it. Which I do. A lot.

I scour the thrift stores here for my beloved milky Pyrex, and I've amassed a decent collection of mugs and mixing bowls, with the random gravy boat or sauce pitcher mixed in. Clearly, that is not enough. Need more Pyrex.

It's always interesting to see which traits your children inherit. My mother is a dish breaker. I distinctly remember her opening the cupboard and glasses literally throwing themselves off the shelf to their doom. Mom switched to plastic around my 16th birthday. I think she got tired of cutting herself on broken glass. She passed the trait on to me, and I in turn passed it on to my girls. Maybe it's something screwy with the X chromosomes?

The other day one of my darling daughters dropped one of my beloved Pyrex mugs. Broke it clean in two. It's nice that it doesn't throw off slivers, but still. I mean, she dropped it on the concrete walkway outside (don't ask), so not much would stand up to that, but I'm still miffed.

I fear the kind of destruction my future granddaughters will be capable of.

(Go see Pyrex Love if you have no idea what I'm talking about. These people are my idols.)

Rachel says:

2009-12-23T11:18:00.000-08:00

Rachel: Hey Lil, let's play a game. In this game you can either be Cinderella,
Ariel,
Snow White,
Rapunzel,
Belle,
Sleeping Beauty..

Or Jesus.

Is it because he lives with women?

2009-12-04T13:42:00.001-08:00

Finnigan: Weese some miwk mama
The Mommy: Ok baby, I'll get you some milk.
F: NO MAMA! JUICE!
TM: Well do you want milk or juice?
F: Water.

Finn has sisters

2009-11-22T00:46:00.000-08:00

His bot

2009-11-13T17:02:00.000-08:00

Finnigan: My bot.
Mommy: No Finn, this is mommy's spot. Your spot is over there.
F: MY bot!
M: No Finn. This is mommy's spot. YOUR spot is over there.
F: More milk mama? Weese?
M: Ok baby, mommy will get you more milk. *Gets up*
F: *Crawls up on couch* *Grins* MY bot.
M: Why you little...

More time in than out

2009-11-12T18:18:00.000-08:00

Today Finn woke up, and his little baby brain thought about what he should do today.
"Should I play with my cars?" the little brain thought. "Should I build a fort?"
"No," said little brain, "today I think I'll be naughty."

"First I'll pick the paint off the wall by my crib. Then I'll pour conditioner on my sister's bed. I'll mop the floor with my juice, rub jam on the cat, and smash some knickknacks.

Then I'll nap."

Little Brain spent his resting time devising new and devious ways to be naughty. He thought, and he thought, and he thought. A plan grew in the deepest recesses of Little Brain. A plan so purely evil it could only be executed by a little boy.

"I think I'll colour. On the wall. With the most expensive lipstick I can find. Then I'll flush a rubber duck, and then I think I'll go out for a walk. Should I tell mommy? Naaaaaah. She'll figure it out. Shoulda brought shoes though. Oh well. Microwaving my spoon was genius, did you see all those sparks??!?

I got banished to my crib.

Freedom! Pulling the cat around by his tail has made me hungry. What's good around here? Oh yeah, BUTTER! I'll take a scoop of that, and some cat food, there, that's better. On to mom's room! I don't like the way she organizes her armoir, I'll help her out. There! They look much better on the floor! Now to stomp on them to make sure they stay down.

Back to my crib.

Freedom! A little cereal on the floor... Oh, ok, a lot. Eh, all of it. Why not! Darn, she took the scissors away. Where did I stick that tuna sandwich? Oh well, I'm sure it'll turn up. OOOOOHHHHH! These raisins fit perfectly through the vents around here! Neat-o! Add some milk... Beautiful.

And I'm back in my crib.

Freedom! Man, gotta poop. Mom's busy, I'll change me! Annnnnd, diaper goes in the wash. What's in there? Whites? Alright. Oh, missed. Ewwww! Slimy! I'll wipe that on the carpet here. Much better. A little paper shredding... It's colourful, that means it's not important!

Crib.

Highchair.

Playpen.

Crib.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

Heroes

2009-11-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

I have a hero.

My hero doesn't wear a cape, he doesn’t leap tall buildings, and he doesn’t have a sidekick. My hero wears a polyester uniform and he fixes trucks. There are thousands of other heroes just like him. My hero is my husband Andrew, and he is a soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces.

We've all met our fair share of bullies. Maybe you've met the playground bully who would throw stones at you, or call you names, or push you down. Maybe you've met the neighbourhood bully who eggs your house and steals your mail. There are bullies at work, there are bullies on the golf course, there are even bullies standing in line at the bank. But what happens when one bully gets together with all his bully friends and tries to bully the whole world? When instead of throwing stones, these bullies start throwing bombs, instead of calling you names they call you worthless and sinful. What happens when instead of pushing you down they try to eradicate you from the very planet?

What happens when that bully is so powerful that entire countries are afraid?

It's happened before. It's happening again.

What happens is war. There is a war being fought right now, and we are all a part of it. We've sent our husbands, wives, mommies, daddies, neighbours, cousins and friends off to war, and the number of those we've lost keeps increasing. This isn't ancient history, this is real. Every morning I wake up and I try to send a message to my husband just to make sure he's lived through his day. Every night he falls asleep on his bunk in a tent and listens to the staccato of gunfire from just outside camp. Last time he came home he spent months reaching for a rifle that wasn't there every time he saw movement in the shadows of our own home. The day after he landed back in Afghanistan last month he helped put another soldier on the plane home. That soldier was dead. Too many soldiers have been sent home in boxes. Too many times has Reveille rung out on foreign soil. Too many moments of silence marking far too many losses.

My husband won't tell me the things he does over there. I know he leaves camp to bring back broken trucks. He doesn't tell me how that big hulking truck had hit a landmine that opened it like a tin can, and he never tells me about the pieces of people left inside. He's told me he's had a gun pulled on him, a gun held by a child no older than six. He won't tell me what happened next. He loves me too much to tell me that. He loves you too much to let me tell you.

Every man and woman who leaves Canada to fight in the war does it because they believe in something so powerfully that they are willing to lay their lives down for it. They believe that everyone is equal. They believe all children have the right to go to school to get an education and grow up smart and strong. They believe that every single person in the whole wide world has the right to live and laugh and love and get very, very old healthfully and happily. They believe in you, they believe in me, and they believe that good will triumph over evil. They fight when they don't want to fight, because fighting is the only language bullies understand.

Someday, hopefully, we won't need to fight. Someday all children will hold books instead of guns, and mommies and daddies will be able to stay home and hold their babies in their arms instead of holding their pictures in their pockets. Someday all the world will learn that ideas will prevail where bullets fail, and that good always, always wins. Good wins when people like my husband take a stand against all the world's bullies and say "No. Stop. What you're doing is wrong, and I'm not going to let you hurt anybody else". Good wins when soldiers don't have to go away and leave loved ones behind. Good wins when we stand up for those people being picked on, and band together for what is right and fair. Good wins when the bombs stop falling.

My husband, and all the Canadian soldiers he stands shoulder to shoulder with are heroes. They're my heroes. They're your heroes. They are the world’s heroes.

Lest we forget.

A trip to the Mommy Salon

2009-11-04T20:29:00.000-08:00

Before:

During:

After:

The nice thing about...

2009-11-03T18:56:00.000-08:00

The nice thing about living right on the ocean is that every so often, when the wind blows just right, your whole house smells like dead shellfish.

The nice thing about having fresh clean floors is that it gives your toddler fantastic traction when he goes tearing around the house.

The nice thing about letting people merge in ahead of you in traffic is that five kilometers down the road you get to be caught behind the 5-car pileup they caused for hours on end.

The nice thing about using cloth diapers is catching a pin under your nail.

The nice thing about attending church in a big beautiful cathedral is getting first dibs on tickets to attend mass with Prince Charles and Camilla P-B. Nevermind the fact that you can attend with God every other week just by walking in off the street.

The nice thing about having children who attend the private school associated with the above-mentioned church is that they will hear about this "event" well in advance and hound you about it forever thereafter.

The nice thing about having a big fat orange tabby is waking up with a mouthful of big fat orange tabby fur.

The nice thing about being a little unknown blog is that nobody really cares when you take a hiatus! ;)

The reader

2009-09-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

Maybe it was done like hopscotch

2009-09-25T14:42:00.000-07:00

The girls and The Daddy were discussing how his work PT (Physical Training) is like their school PE (Physical Education):

The Daddy: ...so for instance, today we played volleyball.
Lily: Today WE played bench-ball*
Rachel: Today we had a spelling test!

*I have no idea what bench-ball is. She says that you throw around a ball to each other, and then you get to sit on a bench. I think it's like dodge ball for sissies.

Sometimes you just nail the timing

2009-09-25T14:40:00.000-07:00

The Daddy [on his way out to pick the girls up from school]: K, I'll be back.
The Mommy: Don't you threaten me.

A day at the beach :)

2009-09-14T12:11:00.000-07:00

The elusive Finnigan Crab:

Making friends with local wildlife:

(I think these are harbour seals - Amanda, help me out!)

Parenting GOLD

2009-09-06T14:33:00.000-07:00

Ever since Rachel was a baby, she's come running to mommy with every bump, scrape, and boo-boo. Sometimes you can't even tell where she's hurt. She's quite melodramatic that way. Six years of that have led me to the point where I have two rules:

No blood = No Bandaid.
If I can't see a mark, get over it.

If she's being particularly whiny about it, I offer the option of Home Amputation. That usually resolves the issue.

- Well -

Someone very close to us had had some issues a while back, which led to the amputation of a relatively small bit of one of their extremities. The way it was done led to other issues, most pressingly that it caused a huge amount of pain to them. Eventually, this led to the recently acted-upon decision to amputate a larger part of the extremity and just get rid of the problem area altogether. Because of the pain.

Surely you can see where this is going.

When Rachel heard about this, her eyes got wide as saucers. Someone she actually knew ACTUALLY had a part of them cut off because it hurt. In real life. For REAL. She was floored.

There was that priceless moment where you can practically see the gears turning in her head. Amputation is a real thing. Amputation due to excessive pain is a real thing. If I complain about pain too much Mommy offers to cut it off. Which really happens in real life. Whoa.

Today Finn stabbed her so hard with one of his diaper pins that it got stuck and I had to pull it out. Do you think I heard a peep out of her?

Not a peep. She looked like she was going to pass out, but I got it pulled out and disinfected and dressed and she just sat as still and silent as a stone.

It was such a golden moment.

(To whom this post is about: We love you and hope you feel better soon!)

From felted to fabulous!

2009-08-31T17:58:00.000-07:00

For my birthday, I got this beautiful emerald green 100% 2 Ply Cashmere sweater. It was the softest thing I've ever felt. It was the most beautiful, deep, jewel toned colour. It was love.

It was not machine washable.

So now I have a very beautiful 100% 2 Ply Cashmere doll sweater.

Did you know that wool, especially pure wool, makes a naturally waterproof and anti-bacterial diaper cover?

Did you know that Finn wears cloth diapers?

Did you know that I know how to sew?

Thus this:

Became this (they're called "longies" - full pant diaper cover)

And, additionally, this (matching vest):

As you can see, I had a less-than-enthusiastic model.

It's about thirty degrees out, and Finn refuses to take it off. He keeps rubbing his legs and saying "Oooooh, NIIIIIIIIIICE!" I'm glad he enjoys the most luxe diaper cover this side of Angora.

Now to gather up the scraps and make something matching for Gigi, his nightime one-armed giraffe friend.

Children, not necessity, are the mother of invention

2009-08-28T01:32:00.000-07:00

My children should be categorized as natural disasters. They should be listed on my tenants insurance right there under Fire, Water, and Acts of God. They walk into a room and things just break. These inanimate objects, they just curl up and die. Today it was two curtain rods. I had a double rod hung over my big front window, and the children came into the room and suddenly the rods were twisted around like pretzels. The curtains were wrapped around the rods and anchors like macrame from the Insane Asylum.

The rods were a total loss. My curtains were salvageable once I extricated them from the twisted mass of aluminum destruction clinging to the center support hook. The set I had up is two panels of cream coloured sheers, two overlay panels of cream/gold brocade, and a two layer valance in cream/sage gingham topped with a creme-based flower-motif embroidered runner ALL SEWN TOGETHER. I made it, and I made it idiot-proof. It's all one piece - easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?

Right.

I'm too cheap to buy new rods, to leery of hanging them, and too lazy to do it anyway. So we went old school.

I took that complicated mass of fabric, and I stapled that bitch to the wall. Oh yes, I did. God bless the Staple Gun. And you know what? Looks exactly the same. It's too thick to rip through, so if they pull it down again (should I ever let them out of their rooms) it'll take 10 seconds and 1/2 a cent worth of aluminum to fix it. It's affixed to the strip of wood hung for the curtain rods anyway, so it's as secure as the upholstery on my couch. So far the only damage to that is a quarter-sized hole Lily cut out with scissors. Matches the hole in her head.

*Brushes imaginary dust off hands*

This concludes our lesson on how to decorate a grown-up home with frat-boy ingenuity.

Consider this your formal notice

2009-08-26T23:06:00.000-07:00

That Christmas is at MY HOUSE this year - quite possibly WITH The Daddy!

I have room to sleep 7 extras, as is. You are also welcome to bring an RV and park it outside.
First to commit gets first choice of beds.

:)

Multi-tasking

2009-08-25T00:31:00.000-07:00

Have to train them young - and save water too!

Can I count this as my workout?

2009-08-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

Today I rearranged the furniture. Like, ALL of the furniture. I brought pieces down from upstairs, I took pieces from downstairs and put them upstairs, I turned the whole living room setup 90 degrees... You know what I learned? I have some heavy-ass furniture. Also, when you move stuff around in a room you THOUGHT was clean, you will learn that it is not clean, and you will now have to clean that room all over again. Le sigh. But I like the change of perspective. I like being able to look out my front window without having to climb over the couch to do it. I like that my TV is now in a corner instead of the center of the known universe. I like that it no longer looks like my living room is a centerfuge that is pressing my furniture against every inch of wall space. I also like that you no longer have to walk between the TV and the couch to go between rooms.

I especially like that I uncovered the two huge floor grates, and Finn is totally freaked out by them. Hehehehe.

I'll try to post pics once I've cleaned all the newly-discovered crayon drawings off the walls. (walls = plural)

Welcome to Canada/Bienvenue a Canada

2009-08-21T20:14:00.000-07:00

Population: ME!

Dear deer

2009-08-21T14:26:00.000-07:00

Bugger off and leave my petunias alone.

Sincerely,

The Mommy

Is it EVER really 'done'?

2009-08-16T17:33:00.000-07:00

Also, just how much punctuation can one person use in ONE blog title?
I digress...
I spent three hours today cleaning my kitchen, and another two cleaning my storage & laundry rooms (the storage room is off the laundry room, which is off the kitchen. This house was built in the '50's, and the layout is ridiculous.) and it occurred to me that I will never, ever run out of things to do. Allow me to 'splain.

First I did all the dishes. Then I had to put them away in order to clear off & clean the counters. Then I had to remove everything from the counters (coffee maker, knife block, etc.) to sanitize the counters. Then I couldn't very well put these things back dirty, so I had to clean them too. Then the windowsill, which is just above the counter - along with everything on it.

Then I washed the walls, appliances, and furniture. Then went over it all with bleach cleaner.

Then I noticed that the linens on the buffet bench are dirty, so they need to be washed, and the chairs got wiped down and the buffet itself.

I wiped down the cupboards, and noticed that the inside of all my cupboards are full of crumbs/pancake mix/loose chocolate chips/Finn sized chocolate fingerprints/God knows what.

I gave up on that room. I'll do the floors tonight and then I REFUSE TO CARE THAT MY CUPBOARDS ARE DIRTY INSIDE. *Sobbing*

The laundry room had a pile of junk on the floor from when I pulled everything out of the damastered storage room. Little junk too, like screws and picture hangers, and zap straps. And for some inexplicable reason, a season's worth of clothes for Barbie. Now it's swept and picked up, but I know the cat food scoop needs to be put back in the cat food bucket, and although there are only three loads left in the laundry sorter, the laundry baskets in the rooms upstairs are nearing capacity and will be needing to be brought down soon. There's a pile of stuff under my laundry sink that need to be painted before they can be put in/out/to use. So I gave up on that room.

I pulled all the junk out of the storage room, sorted it, stacked it, bagged and tagged it, and as I sit here now there are two shoe boxes full of just... SHIT that needs to be put away! I don't know where it comes from, it just appears! AAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Is there ever a point where you are really and truly done, or is there always that last box of crap that sits there mocking you? That perpetual stack of dirty dishes, that eternal 'final' load of laundry. That dirty footprint on the clean floor of my LIFE!

I haven't even started dinner yet, and there are already dirty dishes in the sink. I could just cry.

The girls' rooms are spotless. SPOTLESS spotless. They washed their walls and all their furniture, mopped their floors, and have made up their beds with fresh bedding. They even windexed and organized their closets. Awesome!

This is what The Daddy has been up to:

2009-08-16T01:49:00.000-07:00

Reference pic:

Tattoo! On his ribs! (Minus the post-dinner lasagne disaster, hehehe):

Note: If you look kind of below and to the left of the Finnigan tattoo, you can see the faint stencil of the future Rachel tattoo - The Daddy just couldn't sit through all three portraits at once. More to come!

He's GOING!

2009-08-07T22:41:00.000-07:00

Yeah baby! This train is back on track.
(Now honey, don't get blown up over there, k? Because coming home in a mason jar would be really really... ironic after all of this. As much as I love irony, let's not go there.)

So here's the thing

2009-08-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

We've been green-lighted for The Daddy to go back on tour. We're just awaiting the official decision from the highest-ups, who can still shit-can it.

(As an aside, if you type a naughty word, does your mama make you wash your fingers with soap?)

This just proves that no good can come from Walmart

2009-08-05T22:30:00.000-07:00

Because I'm such a glutton for punishment, I went to Walmart tonight with a neighbour. Bum tooth and all. Of course, halfway through our shopping excursion, Hellmart gets evacuated.

No, I don't know why. But for some unknown, karmic reason, when the TV news crew shows up they zero in on ME to interview. Meanwhile, my meds are wearing off, I can't open my jaw even halfway due to the BITCHIN' TMJ I've been rocking ever since I had my jaw propped open for three freakin' hours, and let's not even talk about my hair.

I'm sure I was totally awesome.

Hopefully all they'll show is that mouthy asshole who was demanding $100 Sprawlmart giftcards to everyone for their "inconvenience". Good luck to him.

Women have been lying to you this whole time

2009-08-05T13:34:00.000-07:00

I gotta come clean, folks, gotta spill on the biggest lie of womenhood. Childbirth is NOT the worst pain on the planet.

Root canals are.

Terrible. I kind of wanted to die. I've done the med-free, 9lb baby, back labour, stitched from one end to the other thing, and root canal after pain is worse.

My appologies to women everywhere, but I couldn't keep it in any longer.

My tooth frickin' HURTS.

My tooth is killing me!

2009-07-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

Root canal on Tuesday. Fun!

I love my garbage men

2009-07-29T18:08:00.001-07:00

Here on base we only have our garbage picked up every other week. You can imagine how much of a pain in the ass it is when you have brain-fade and miss a day...

We missed the last two.

All three cans were full, plus two cardboard boxes, plus a big oversized rubbermaid container, PLUS probably a dozen loose bags. The animals had been in it, it was overcome with flies, it was oozing, it was disgusting. (The Daddy has been re-bagging as necessary, and is on a first-name basis with one of the raccoons.)

They took it all, and I only heard them swear once.

So to all garbage men out there, I adore you. You are my heros. There may be a 24 of beer in your future, if you so happen to have my house on your route.

Oh, AND

2009-07-28T22:37:00.001-07:00

And to top it all off, I got a reply to one of the resume's I sent out eons ago. Because Opportunity always knocks when you're naked, on the phone, there's a crying baby, and you've just shut your hair in the door.

Not that that ever, you know, happened.

Little bits

2009-07-28T22:16:00.000-07:00

It's hot as freaking Hades here, and it's after 10pm.

We passed all our checks with everybody, and are very cautiously optimistic about the minute possibility that The Daddy will, in fact, remain on tour. It probably won't happen, but it hasn't officially been killed yet either.

Our new kitten now has a name: Ysma (Ease-ma). Kronk is afraid of her. She does not like to have her picture taken, but I will try for you.

It's REALLY hot here. I'm sweaty, and I'm just sprawled out on the couch watchin' tv.

I discovered last night that we get free MovieCentral. I watched a lot of movies on demand. I plan to do the same tonight.

I'm so tired.

The Doc says my post-partum depression is probably gone, and all I'm suffering from now is anxiety. I haven't decided if I believe him or not.

I have an appointment with a psycologist on the 3rd re: the anxiety. It's going to cost approximately $475 for her to climb all up in my head, which we have to pay for upfront. How to solve problems, military style: To cure anxiety, go see someone who will charge you lots of money to solve your anxiety problems, so that you're a-ok except for your newfound anxiety about not being able to pay your bills this month. Winning.

I'm melting. Gah.

The Daddy is surprising me with his helpfulness. He cooks, he cleans, he reads bedtime stories. He even dries the dishes, and I only asked him once. Feel free to envy me.

The Baby and I were out shopping last week, and picked up one of those Little Golden Books about fire engines. We now have to read it about 16 times a day. We all have it memorized. We've already worn the "Golden" off it. Best $3.54 I've spent on that kid in a loooong time.

Our duvet exploded. There were feathers everywhere. It happened right before our last housing inspection. The Daddy tried to sweep it up. Shockingly, that didn't work. Kronk was afraid. Thankfully, everybody understood. Sewing up the tear was an interesting edeavour though. I'm pretty sure I've still got down up my nose.

My laundry is still not totally complete. Shameful, I know. Whatever.

uʍop ǝpısdn pǝuɹnʇ sʇǝƃ ǝɟıן ɹnoʎ sǝɯıʇǝɯos

2009-07-24T17:48:00.000-07:00

Life went quite spectacularly to shit recently. I'm pretty sure I will never want to go on vacation ever again.

Our last day of vacation, we got a phone call that the military po-po's had been in our house. Apparently the person who was supposed to be taking care of our cat, well, wasn't, and he had been yowling obnoxiously and annoying all the neighbours. The cops went in on the grounds that "they didn't know if someone was inside who needed attention". They found the backdoor unlocked, which prompted a call to Housing, and found cat shit everywhere (due to the neglect of the litter box. The cat had plenty of food and water at least), which prompted a call to Child Services. The house, of course, looked like a bomb had gone off because of The Daddy arriving home three days prior and basically dumping his shit and playing WoW until we left and my totally unorganized and last minute vacation packing. Basically there we piles of (clean) dishes, piles of clean and dirty and shit on laundry, standard little-girl messy rooms, my dumping ground of a bedroom (I spend zero time in there awake, what do you want?) and clutter as far as the eye can see. They were kind enough to take pictures and forward them to The Daddy's chain of command. Sweet, no?

At some point that night, our car was broken into. The window was smashed, and our GPS - my very lifeline - was stolen. We don't have theft protection OR damage coverage on our car insurance.

We've met with police, housing, Social Workers (plural!) half the damn military, and I have to go see a shrink because this. shit. is. not. good. for. my. anxiety.

So The Daddy is quite probably not going on tour after all.

I must have been really, really bad in a past life.

At any rate, it took us all of one day to get the place - to quote the social worker - "spotless". You can imagine how terrible it was that it could be so drastically changed in one day. So now we're doing paranoid anal-retentive things like bleaching the walls and lining everything up at precise angles in an effort to show the constant stream of people coming through here that we are NOT neglectful lazy slobs and are in fact willing and able to maintain a healthy level of cleanliness. We have three kids, it ain't always gonna be magazine perfect! But it was actually suggested to me today that it's "unusual" to go to bed with dirty laundry in your house. I really, truly must be completely off my rocker, because I think that is utter bullshit. I mean, seriously? What about the clothes you just took off? Even if it's just the outfits my family wore that day, there's a full load of dirty laundry right there! Am I totally out to lunch? Do people actually wash clothes that are still warm from their bodies?!? Whatever. This is why God invented laundry baskets.

I have long maintained that people who have nothing to hide hide nothing. I have told them all to please drop by any time, I was opening closets and storage areas for inspection despite them telling me it was unnecessary. I made the Social Workers look in the fridge and cupboards so that I knew they knew we had an suitable amount of food for our family. I'm bending over backwards to make my life an open book so that this can be as simple and easy as possible, but for such an intensely private person such as I - it stings. I have appointments with different people all over town to tell them my life story and get a support network in place. Privacy is apparently a privilege, not a right, and definitely not in anyone's best interests. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do - and right now, I gotta do this and play by their rules. It doesn't really bother me so much as it exhausts me. I'm so tired of talking, of explaining, or refuting, of repeating myself... I think I'll just start issuing press releases and be done with the whole thing. There is something to be said for Gov't taping our lives and tapping our conversations. Pressing rewind+play would be soooo much easier and less emotionally trying.

I always said it would never happen to me, how stuck up was I? Karma is a bitch! Note to future self: Do not leave the house anything less than STERILE and IMMACULATE, because "clean" is subjective and sometimes that can mean "never, ever good enough", and there is always justification for someone being all up in your business whether you want them to or not, and second chances have to be paid for in blood, sweat, and tears. I'm pretty sure I'll end up medicated.

Is this week over yet?

If you need me, I'll be in the bubble bath with a glass of wine and a slutty romance novel. Calgon, Cowboy, and Cabernet take me away.

I wish things like this still surprised me

2009-06-23T21:45:00.000-07:00

Today Rachel went on a field trip with her class. When I picked her up, instead of wearing the uniform she'd had on when I dropped her off, I found her in an unfamiliar "Dino-MITE" t-shirt and red sports pants with flip-flops.

Rachel fell in the duck pond at the park.

I'm not even a little bit surprised.

(The clothes belonged to a boy in her class. Her uniform was covered in duck... stuff. She'd drawn the line at borrowing his underwear though. Because THAT would be too weird.)

How to kiss ass or make friends

2009-06-19T19:12:00.001-07:00

Step one: Fresh fruit from the newly opened farmer's market.
Step two: Cut off the green bits before the baby eats them.

Step three: Show your blog friends that you have mad skillz with an apple peeler - that's all one long strip, yo.

Step four: World-famous (ok, maybe not "world" famous, but well known in certain circles) pie crust a la The Mommy.

Steps five and six: Fill and cover.

Step seven: Decorate.

Step eight: Bake, then admire. Then sigh, because they're just so pretty.

Step nine: Deliver to those who teach your children, because that's the kind of mom you are today.

Finnigan is TWO!!!

2009-06-15T09:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Finn's second birthday. When you ask him how old he is, he will say "This" and give you his hand, because he wants to hold up two fingers but his fine motor skills aren't quite up to his will yet. But if you pin down the rest of his fingers so that he's only holding two up, then he can show you that he is, in fact, two years old.

And he learned yesterday how to peel his own oranges.

Happy birthday Finnigan!

RAAAWWR!

2009-06-14T17:27:00.000-07:00

There has been a cougar sighting on our base. A real cougar, as in here kitty kitty - not the type you find in bars after last call. Anyway, there's been a cougar sighting on our base, and now the military police are putting up big warning signs and the poor kidlets are all stuck inside on cougar lockdown.

I'm thinking of putting a can of tuna on the porch. Just for fun.

My mind: now with two tracks!

2009-06-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

I know I have been away a long time. This is because my mouth hurt, and I would have to tell you is how much my mouth hurt, and that is very dull indeed.

The cavern has been repaired. I feel sooooooooo much better now. The only pain I have is from the wedge they had to put between my last molar and my wisdom tooth to space them out so I can actually floss in between. No more trapped stuff, hopefully no more cavities! Yay!

I have much to say now, but I need to round up more pictures, so I'll be back. I'm too busy right now enjoying being able to eat and drink things that are NOT the consistency of baby food and NOT strictly lukewarm.

And also, I have to clean this dump of a house that I ignored due to aforementioned sore mouth.

Then I will come back and show you pictures, because I like pictures on other blogs (because I am nosy that way).

Fun things down your pants

2009-06-06T21:53:00.000-07:00

I was mowing the lawn tonight at 9pm (It's hot here, ok?) and when I got in, I had an itch on my leg. So, I scratched it through my jeans, and I felt something small and hard on the top of my thigh (don't go there). I thought it was a pebble, so I pinned it to my leg and reached in to get it.

Not a pebble.

A ladybug.

It was still alive.

I put it on the desk in front of me, and Kronk - who had been sitting in my lap until then - watched it try to walk away.

Kronk was afraid of the ladybug.

But not too afraid to eat it.

Crunch crunch crunch.

Rachel Says:

2009-06-04T11:53:00.001-07:00

Rachel: Blah blah blah blah Jesus died because he got hit by a bus.
Me: ... Wait, what?
Rachel: He got hit by a bus, and then they put him in a rock, but then he got alive again and came out.
Me: Jesus did not get hit by a bus, he got nailed to a cross.
Rachel: OHHHHHHHH... I thought he got hit by a bus.

[I think someone needs to pay closer attention during RE (Religious Education)]

I just thought you'd all like to know

2009-06-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

... that I had a Twinkie for dinner because my mouth still hurts. Then I had an ibuprofin chaser.

*pout*

Because God hates me personally

2009-06-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

Remember how I was whining about having a cavity? Yeah, it's not a cavity, it's a cavern. The dentist doesn't even know if he can save the tooth, so I have to go in again to see if the tooth can be saved via root canal, or if it's a lost cause and I need a molar-ectomy followed by a dental implant (of which I want two, just because then I can walk around telling people I have implants. Heee.). Next Wednesday I go back and he is going to "remove all the soft tissue from that tooth" which sounds like it will hurt but I am assured I do not need the soft stuff, only the hard stuff (always a good rule of thumb, no?). Better me than The Daddy though, I say, because at least I am not a wussy GIRL when it comes to the dentist. Poor Mr. big military man is a-scareded of a little oral action.

Anyway, my new dentist shall now be known as Dr. Hottie, because no need to say open wide - my jaw hit the floor when he came in! Har har har, all is well until he stuck a pic in my cavern (and not the fun way) and then I bit him. Tool. Do not poke exposed nerves with sharp objects! Isn't that like dental rule #3, right after brushing and flossing? I digress. He asked very sweetly if I'd be ok if he blew a bit of air on the bad bits, because (and I quote) he "didn't want to have to peel me of the ceiling - but the pic he just lays into me with. See? Education can only get you so far. So I may or may not look like a hillbilly for a while.

By the by, root canals and tooth removal are covered by our insurance. Crowns and implants are NOT. We're hoping for the root canal and crown, because otherwise I'll have to pony up $3k out of my own pocket. Of course, Dr. ~~Hottie~~ Happy Pic "recommends" an implant because of my age. Youngness wise. See, implants are more durable. WTF does he think I'm putting in there, rocks?

Oh, AND, AND the dumbass that removed my wisdom teeth only got three. I am still somewhat wisdomous. They took my #2 molar instead in that corner. Whatever the hell a #2 molar is. Whatever. The short and the short of it is that the cavity from hell is right beside my stowaway wisdom tooth, but because they removed the molar the wisdom tooth fell over and is now sideways so that the top part is now facing forward in my mouth, which creates a lovely little pocket for food and God knows what to get caught between that and my holey tooth, which explains why it is now so holey. AND depending on whether the stupid sideways wisdom tooth is part of my bite or not, it may or may not get to stay. Nothing like having your wisdom teeth removed twice.

P.S. Dr. McHappyPic and his lil' silver friend have made my toothache about 5 times worse. As in, the pressure from my cheek resting against my tooth sends shooting pains down into my jaw. Good thing he's pretty.

Now Lily. Lily has many cavities, and two teeth need to be extracted, and her jaw is misaligned (a level 2 overbite, for those in the know), and she needs the brackety spacey things because her top jaw is too spacious that the teeth are kind of all floating around with no one to cuddle up to, which makes them do crazy tooth acrobatics, and then she'll need braces when she's 12. The poor dentist pretty much washed his hands of her and referred me to an Pediatric Orthodontist. In fact, she's got so much going on with the rest of her mouth that the doctor didn't even notice that she was missing a third of her front tooth. He let her out of the chair, and I asked him about it, and I got the Blank Stare of Doom that you never ever want to see from your medical professionals. BUT she is now squeeky clean, and the hygenist complemented her on her tooth care habits. And she doesn't even need to floss because of the aforementioned spaciousness of her mouth. Sweet. Now if our teeth could please just stop crumbling of their own accord, that'd be great.

On the plus side, I referred the dental hygenist to BBC, so hopefully she'll come around to straighten out the whole "soda pop in baby bottles" issues there. Not good, people, not good. Don't let your kids get the bad teeth.

Doc told me to take 1000mg of Acetominophen + 800mg Ibuprofen. I have zero cares in the world right now! I'd have a glass of wine, but A) we don't have any, and B) I might die.

Lastly, there really should be more hottie dentists in the world. Because baby, when a hot guy tells you to open your mouth - you do it. No problem-o.

Rachel's appointment is in 3 weeks.
Finnigan's appointment is in a year.
I will have have a standing weekly appointment until then, I am sure.

OH, and I have alignment issues myself AND I need a night guard because I clench and it is destroying my enamel. I'm pretty sure my dentist cried when we left.

Like those kids that are raised by wolves

2009-06-02T10:39:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard stories of kids who are like, abandoned in the woods and then a momma wolf adopts them and they're raised within the pack, and they grow up kind of ferel and wolf-like? It's like that, except instead of wolves, Finn is being raised by a pack of women. We were going out to the car yesterday, and he saw a bug. Do you know what he did? He danced around on his tippytoes, with his arms clutched dramatically to his chest, saying "Ew! Eewww! Ewww, ew eww eww ew!!!"
It was hysterical. If he wasn't so 'boyish' with his build and his haircut, face shape, and armload of toy cars, it would have been downright flamboyant. Can something be "a little bit flamboyant"? Because that was. Unless "a little bit flamboyant" is a catch 22, like Jumbo Shrimp, or New & Improved, or Honest Politics.
He also will not dig in the dirt of the garden with me, and don't even THINK about making him touch a worm (also called a bug, he says).

Today he is moist

2009-05-30T14:09:00.001-07:00

Last night I switched around some furniture in the baby's nursery, because he was getting so big that he'd bonk his head on the shelves above his dresser/change table.

I forgot about the bum cream in his top drawer.

I put the dresser/change table next to the crib.

I went in to get him this morning, and he was so white he looked like a ghost of himself. It was such a stark white that he actually kind of looked pale blue.

Bum cream does not come off, you have to wait for it to soak into skin. Unless of course your baby is climbing all over you, or the couch, or any other fabric surface in the house, and then it will lovingly transfer to all of those whilst remaining also on baby's skin.

Can you still classify your couch as 'beige' if it has brown chocolate smears, blue pen ink drawings, unidentified purple blotches, grey watermarks, and is covered in a fine white film of bum cream?

You just KNOW there is a post coming wherein I slipcover it...

Nitrites??!? Ewwwww!

2009-05-28T13:57:00.000-07:00

Yeah I fed him a Luncheable. Lynch me.

I love it soooo much

2009-05-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

Do you have a favorite little corner of your house where it's just so pretty it makes you smile every time you walk by? This is fast becoming one of mine:

The Dining Room, or should I say "Dining area of the Living Room" is so small, but I've been wanting a china (chinet) cabinet for storage. Then I found this one, and it was love at first sight!

I love the decorative shape of the door panels and, well, the shape of the whole thing.

I love how it holds all my collectables, and I ADORE the chicken-wire over glass in the bottom panels. It's a PITA to clean, but the things we do for beauty...

I also love the little stained flowers. You have to really look to see them, so it's not loud and obvious and in-your-face.

Working in such a small space means you have to kind of jam everything you need in one on top of the other, which is why the Ficus tree is stuck between the couch and cabinet, and then has a table in front of it (which actually works well at keeping the baby out of the dirt! I think this little nook of my house turned out pretty well! I just want to cozy up and be surrounded by my favorite things.

(By the way, when I first got this cabinet home it REEKED of cigarette smoke. Gross. That is what the Lemon Oil in my last post was for, and it worked a charm! Imagine if it had actually been the Furniture Stripper after all? All those pretty little flowers would be gone. Gone gone gone. And I'd be PISSED.)

Uh oh...

2009-05-26T15:06:00.000-07:00

This is what I bought to treat my antique furniture with:

Today, Finnigan shredded the paper wrapper, and this is what was revealed:

Uh oh.

School Spring Fair!

2009-05-24T01:07:00.001-07:00

There was a cake walk, a silent auction, bake sale, raffle, bounce house obstacle course, mini golf, a clown, a singer guy, hot dogs... Unfortunately I missed EVERYTHING because the guy who was supposed to take over the bean bag toss from me at 12:30 didn't bother to show. Neither did the guy supposed to take over from HIM at 1:30. Or the one taking over at 2:30. At 3pm I just shut the damn booth down. It was either that, or start whipping bean bags at the little ~~brats~~ children. Besides, I hadn't eaten yet and I had to pee! At least I only had to buy one set of tickets for my own kids. Once those were gone I just recycled from my booth. I figure if I'm stuck there, my kids should at least get to play (without me) for free. Maybe I'll get detention for it, or get sent to the principals office. I hope it's quiet there.

But it was a sunny day, and I came home with all three children I started out with. That my friends is a SUCCESS.

This is dentistry I cannot handle

2009-05-23T20:41:00.000-07:00

Somehow... I cannot get past the 'HOW' portion of this.

SOMEHOW Lily walked into a parked car and broke her front tooth. Her new, front, ADULT tooth.

HOW she didn't see the huge hulking hunk of metal is beyond me. HOW she walked into it hard enough to break her own toothi is beyond me.

What I'm going to do about it is beyond me. I forsee us spending much time at the dentist for her with her cornerless tooth and me with my cavernous cavity.

First we have to sort out the dental coverage on The Daddy's insurance. Barf.

I hate teeth.

Can't win for trying

2009-05-21T22:26:00.001-07:00

When we moved, I transferred a bunch of the bills to the new house. The services transferred, the billing transferred... The account numbers did not. The first payment or two that got screwed up was to be expected. Call the company, get the credit off the dead account, transfer it to the new account. Memorize hold muzak, know all the automated hold messages by heart, been on first-name basis with all support persons and their spouses, call bank, change account numbers at bank. Next month, pay bill, get disconnection notice, call company, transfer credit, hold, call bank, change account numbers at bank.
Next month, repeat. And again.

I am so. frustrated. Why can't the bank understand this simple concept? Is it because they're not making any money off of taking one direct payment account off my payee list and adding another? Are they all one armed monkeys? Pigeons learn faster than this. Call up payee list. Find desired payee. Delete one account number. Write in another. Easy peasy. Here, let me do it.

I've been on the phone while they do it. I've stood over the teller while she did it. I've done it myself online. Somehow those idiots still manage to keep paying my OLD account while my new one goes to disconnection.

I may need a new bank. That or I'll have to start hand-delivering all my bill payments, which would be a real pain in my ass.

At least I've made friends at bill companies. They're going to be able to do all this without me even calling soon.

By the way, why don't dead accounts get deleted? Why is my old account even able to accept a payment? That makes no sense to me.

Plot point 'pinions please!

2009-05-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

I am attempting my first novel. I am maybe midway through the first chapter. It is something nobody who knows me would ever think I would write, but it is coming surprisingly easily. I so want to talk about it here, but when you risk putting your ideas out in the world you risk someone else taking them and running with them. Hmmm. On the flip side, I really want to know if the basis for the book, the main idea of it, is interesting enough - if it would make random people want to read my book. I just don't know. Not to mention that I'm only midway through the first chapter, so I'M not entirely sure what my book is about. Lol.

I will tell you a very vague little bit, and you all tell me what you think, ok?

I guess the best way to describe it would be to say that it is about a man who is a vigilante serial killer (and he really does focus on a certain kind of earth-scum, though I haven't fully decided on his motivations yet). Does that make any sense? It's not going to be a shootkillmaimdestroy action novel, but darker and hopefully more though-provoking. I am kind of living vicariously through my main character, and I really want my readers to side with him, and root for him, and think of HIM (or 'them', he may have allies) as the good guy even though he's sort of a bad guy. Now that I've reduced it down to that, it kind of sounds like a boatload of other books out there. Just remember it's the details that will make it unique. ;) I don't think the focus of the book will be primarily what he does, either, but more the other characters' thoughts and actions regarding what he's done. The police, the media, general society, and the judicial system. The novel will be propelled by the idea that being bad for good reasons is still being bad - but can the impetus ever be good enough that people want to overlook the bad - or do most people seperate the motivation from the action and judge accordingly? Basically, all killers have their own motivations. But what if inherently good, normal, law-abiding people agree with it? If someone good does something bad to a bad person, what does that make them? Is a vigilante really ever any more, any better than a villian?

I don't know how else to explain it, I've probably just muddled it all up and left you all scratching your heads. At the very least, it is interesting to me, and I am enjoying writing it. Not that that will help pay the bills at all.

My main character's name is John. Discuss!

Exhausted, but not hugely successful

2009-05-18T15:47:00.001-07:00

Well, I didn't make my goal amount, but I did have a few people through. I'm exhausted. Yard sales are a surprising amount of work on an empty stomach.

We got rained out at about 2pm, but we had a decent run for less than 24 hours notice, haha.

I've rescheduled for this Saturday, it is supposed to be sunny and warm! Now to advertise and round up anything else I can think of. Next time I will be more successful, this we'll call practice. This one was just to make the money to cover the cheques I wrote. I did that at least. Next weekend is for PROFIT. ;)

Anyone wanna come babysit my kids next weekend? I really don't want to just let them fend for themselves again.

I'm so tired.

Randomosity

2009-05-17T23:06:00.001-07:00

Could Brad Pitt be any cuter in the movie "Ocean's 11"? I could just spread him on a cracker.

OMG freakout begins... Now

2009-05-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

Today I decided on a whim to quit this stupid Craigslist nonsense and just hold a yard sale. So, I put up an ad on Craigslist (shut up) to advertise my yard sale, for TOMORROW. (Canada people, it's a holiday ok?)

Ohhh, tonight is gonna be an all-nighter, methinks.

Who's dumb idea was this anyway, to hold a last-minute, thrown-together yard sale with three kids and no help? Lily, Rachel, consider yourselves drafted.

Goal: $100

I'll let you know how it goes. If I don't post tomorrow night, it either went so well that I'm exhausted, so poorly that I'm drunk, or I just gave up and sold myself into slavery.

Wish me luck!

I should have known

2009-05-17T01:37:00.000-07:00

I got tired of the cat meowing in the bathtub for a drink, or attempting to drink out of the toilet (mainly because my girls do not know how to flush) so I bought him one of those re-circulating dome-shaped water fountain things for cats.

He is afraid of it.

Product Review: Vileda Scrunge

2009-05-15T22:53:00.000-07:00

Vileda Scrunge

FAIL. Not impressive at all. For the amount of scrubbing I had to do with it, I could have used a wad of spit and a cotton ball and gotten the same results. My glass/ceramic cooktop was not restored to new with a few quick passes and a look of accomplishment. There was sweat. There were tears. There was a complete thrashing of my manicure. There were minimal results.

You know what works better, for 1/20th the price? A good old fashioned S.O.S pad. Man I love those things.

Scrunge bad. S.O.S pad good.

Now you know.

Also, today at Walmart I got sucked into buying some Sham-Wow knockoffs. Review coming soon!

Back from the near-dead

2009-05-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

So the allergy madness led, of course, to the migraine madness. Or was it the fact that my husband has returned from army camping that led to the migraine madness? Either way, my head hurt. The halo's, the throwing up, the vertigo... Fun times. But double-dosing on the good pills (two kinds) and a 5 hour nap cleared that sucker right up (the next day)! I digress...

The Daddy has returned, briefly. Let's all thank the powers that be for me having someone to hold down the couch. You'd think someone who had been holed up with a bunch of other men deep in the woods, living in a tent would want to go out and partake in civilization. Oh no, not MY husband. The couch it is. Which means I have been subjected to nothing but sports and Family Guy since he got here. I don't know which I dislike more. At least with sports I can be vindictive and root for whichever team he isn't. Hehehehe. Because I am a good wife that way.

In other news, I got a notice from the girls's school the other day that they both are participating in a play. This means they need costumes. In FOUR DAYS. Freaking great. I say that drawing whiskers on them and writing "dog" and "bunny" on their respective foreheads is costume enough. Pig tails can double as floppy ears for both, no?

The baby is becoming quite the chatterbox, and also quite the cheese-a-holic. Which means I am forever hearing "Chee? Chee? Chee?" until I break down and give him a cheese string. Could be worse, could be junk food. Finn has taken it upon himself to teach The Daddy (who is a mechanic) what a car is. Everytime there is a car on tv (much fun during Nascar) on the road, driving by the house, in the parking lot, parked outside our house, Finn will point and tell Andrew "Car!" except it comes out more like "cahhh...r?" because he's not quite two. It's pretty cute, and it gives me a break from the constant begging for cheese. Solution? Download the movie "Cars" and put it on the big screen! Ohhh, it was entrancing. Two hours of silence, except for the occasional chubby little finger pointing and baby-voice "CAHH...R!" from the peanut gallery.

My house is destroyed. The kitchen is a disaster, with no clean dishes whatsoever, the living room is absolutely wall-to-wall, and the bathroom... Let's not even talk about the bathroom. It makes me want to cry. Even the little room at the front door, remember that tiny little space? Even it is in desperate need of some domestic attentions. My lawn needs to be mowed, my bed needs to have bedding put back on it, I'm not caught up on laundry, and today is a freaking HOLIDAY, which means all the kids are here. And the damn cat won't shut up. He is so dumb, he doesn't even know what he is meowing at. He wants to go outside, but he is afraid of outside. He is hungry, but forgets where his food dish lives. He is thirsty, so he waits in the bathtub for someone to have a shower, unless I place him literally IN his waterbowl. At least he is clean, and affectionate. I swear though, his mother must have dropped him on his head too many times.

OK, I think we're caught up. Nothing terribly interesting, but this isn't freaking Disneyland. I have some posts coming, but they will have to wait until I muck out my house. Ugh. I think I'll just move.

Allergies are kicking my ass

2009-05-09T11:10:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Something has bloomed, and my body does not like it. Full on allergy attack. I wised up though, and bought some allergy medicine. Do you think it is working? Yeah, me neither. I even got two different kinds. My ears are still swollen, my nose is still running, and my throat hurts. My eyes are still itchy and watery. I am pretty hot stuff, I tell you what.

Does anything work? I mean, aside from moving?

This city has sooooo many parks

2009-05-07T22:31:00.000-07:00

We go to a new one every time! Here's today's:

Poor thing is sleeping like a log tonight. ;)

Rinse, repeat

2009-05-06T21:51:00.000-07:00

So I mopped the floors this afternoon. I just took this picture after dinner. See? Can you see the clean underneath the fresh layer of dirty?

But then, then I mopped again, AND waxed, and now look! So shiny!

Is it only me though, who thinks that these real-wood floors always look dirty? Do you know how many knots I tried to scrub off today, thinking they were ground-in raisins? I think I'm just used to my old fake-wood floors...

I'm not going to bed tonight. Oh no, I will be sitting here enjoying my clean floors for the precious few hours they will be clean. Children have an aversion to clean floors, as evidenced above. I mean, just hazard a guess as to where the baby sits. I dare you.

So, so pretty... I need better smelling wax though, this smells like fake fruit. Ick. But so pretty!

The easiest room in the house to keep clean

2009-05-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, it really is *that* big. Just enough space to open the door (most of the way).

And what's behind the secret curtain? Why the Front Hall Closet from Hell, that's what! It's where clutter goes to die. I'm so not showing you THAT.

Chick'n 'n' rice

2009-05-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

Just so nobody forgets what they look like:

I don't know why Lily has a topknot. She did her own hair today.

Do I win the 'Ugliest Tablecloth Ever' award or what?

I don't know why the colour is coming out funny, it's actually a mustard yellow print on a khaki background. Fantastic.

Note to Self:

2009-05-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

Self, you do NOT like flavoured coffees. So stop buying them!

You like Creme Brulee - not Creme Bruleee coffee.

Stick to the classic roast already, mmkay?

Sincerely,
You.

One of those days wherein I need coffee in order to get my coffee

2009-04-29T10:31:00.000-07:00

I was attempting to pour my morning coffee today. All was going well at first, I had a clean cup, fresh cream... But I take sugar in my coffee. I *have* sugar, sitting right there by the coffee pot, but do you know what I added to my coffee instead?

Salsa.

Yes, salsa. Because salsa looks ever so much like sugar. Tastes like it too.

Sometimes you get the coffee, sometimes the coffee gets you.

Those who can't do... Hire

2009-04-27T21:35:00.000-07:00

I've been looking for a job, as you may well know. Usually I apply for jobs and hope "I hope they think I'm good enough to work for them!". Well, today I was on the other end. I can across a job ad, and it was as innocuous as the rest of them. Until you got to the last sentence:

"Please send 2 copies of your resume to doesn'tknowhowtohitprinttwice {@} job {dot} com"

Ok. I've obviously already "outgrown" your company, as I passed E-mail Attachments 101 years ago.

Open.

Print.

Print again. Or hey, fill in the 'copies' field of your 'print' menu with the number of copies you want printed! Seeeeee? I haz skillz u nede. I cud b ur cumpiny prezidint.

I didn't apply to that job. I have to have standards, even while unemployed.

I wonder if he'll poop rainbows and butterflies

2009-04-26T18:26:00.000-07:00

I can't get Finn to stop eating the crayons. Today he had a blue one with breakfast, and a white one for a snack before lunch. (The white one made him look like he had rabies.)

Then we went outside and he ate a caterpillar. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a poisonous one, so at worst he's up a bit of protein.

I feed this kid real food, I promise. I just can't get him to stop eating the non-food stuff between meals.

Ugh.

Further fun with keyword analysis

2009-04-26T02:02:00.000-07:00

Part of my little blog reader tracking dealio is that it tells me the search keywords people have used that led them to my blog. Here's today's most interesting:

"getting ur testicals sucked" [sic]

How did ^^^THIS^^^ lead to my blog? Because honestly, between you, me, and my husband, that is probably the LAST thing that would lead you to me in any way. Not unless you are looking for a "good luck with that, honey" and a pat on the back.

I'm confounded as to why that sentence would lead you to my blog instead of one of the eight hundred million baZILLION sites out there that would... ummm... cater... to your interest. *Ahem* But person, if you are here, I don't judge. Well that's not true, but I don't judge you and your sexual proclivities. I DO judge your moronic and childish grammar and sentence structure. Maybe the reason you are stuck at home on a Saturday night reading mommy-blogs for kicks is because you have seemingly not mastered the most basic rules of the English Language. Furthermore, I would like to point out how lazy this sentence makes you seem. Do you understand that when us women (or men, again no judging) see that you use these fainéant contractions and indolent grammar... Well, it makes us REALLY NOT WANT TO "suck ur testicals". Honestly now, if you are lazy there, we can only postulate that you will be lazy in bed, and if I am going to be doing all the work anyway, honey - I am going to be doing it alone. Ok? Ok.

Lastly: T-E-S-T-I-C-L-E-S. Just because that was bugging me.

Get a girlfriend. And a good pharmacist. Get the pharmacist first. Best of luck!

Note to my cat:

2009-04-25T22:34:00.001-07:00

Candles are NOT FOR TOUCHING.

I know they wiggle and flicker and taunt you, but if you attempt to bat at the flames you will end up with singed paw fur. Yes, even on your other paw too.

I will not take you to the vet, there is no cure for stupid.

Sincerely,

She Who Feeds You

Kids say the most condescending things

2009-04-24T15:09:00.000-07:00

Finn and I were out for a walk today in our neighbourhood when a mini van slowly rolled to a stop beside us. It was the mother of one of their friends.

"Do you know what your daughters have been telling me?" she asked.

"Uh oh." I said.

She laughed. Apparently when the girls play with her daughter, they tell her to go put a dress on "to be an old-fashioned mommy". My girls are ALWAYS in dresses, but I just chalked it up to them being girly-girls. Their friend is quite the tomboy and apparently her asking her mom for a dress rendered said mother completely speechless.

But wait, that's not even the best part.

My daughters, little snobs that they are, gave this poor woman QUITE the stern talking-to for using disposable diapers. How common. They informed her that cloth diapers - like the kind THEIR brother wears - are the only way to diaper your baby if you want to be an old-fashioned mother.

Where do they get this crap? Old-fashioned? Do they see me as a 50's housewife? Do they aspire to be 50's housewives?

They're so young, and so snobby. We'll be having a chat when they get home.

Newsflash ladies: You were BOTH diapered with disposable diapers. Indeed.

¿Me puede ayudar, Mr. Fireman guy? ¿Por Favor?

2009-04-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

I had to have the fire inspector come in to my house today. Remember a few posts ago when I lit some candles and set off my smoke alarms? Well I couldn't get one of them to turn off, so I disconnected (it was hardwired in) it. Then it kept yelling at me, so I took out the battery backup. Then, somehow, miraculously, it KEPT beeping to remind me to put it's brain back in and re-attach it.

I tried to do it, I really did. I put the battery back in, and it immediately started screaming that it had a low battery. Jerk. So I gave it a fresh battery. Once that was in, it wouldn't stop telling me that it was detecting high levels of CO. Fail. I took it out to the middle of the yard. Still detecting high levels of CO. Either I'm seriously screwed, or it is malfunctioning. I took the battery back out (to get the damn thing to SHUT UP) and went and read the little manual.

I put the battery back in and held down the 'reset' button.

NOW the stupid irritating piece of ~~shit~~ machinery is yelling at me in Spanish.

No hablo español.

Estoy triste. :(

Not only do I not know how to kill it, but I can't even understand what it's saying anymore.

You know what's cool? Google. There are sites that will "listen" via microphone to what "you" (or your smoke detector) are saying and translate it.

Apparently I am detecting high levels of CO.

*facepalm*

Battery comes back out, and Señior Smoke-Detector gets buried in blankets in the linen closet. Eventually the beeping dies a slow and apparently painful death, and all is finally quiet.

Except that, do you know that disconnecting your smoke alarms is illegal?
Further, do you know that if they are hardwired to your house, there's a chance they are hardwired to the fire department dispatch too?

Si.

"Ding Dong!" Doorbell!

He was very nice. I told him the evil little white disk was ALLLLLL his, and the bathroom was down the hall if he wanted to drown the demonic thing, because no. me. gusta. I don't know what he did. No entiendo. There is ONE button on that thing, and I'd already pushed it about a bazillion times. Apparently I wasn't doing it right. He made it stop beeping. He made it realize there was no CO accumulating to deadly levels on the ceiling of the second floor with all the windows open. He made it hablas el inglés.

Then he put it back in it's little mounting dealie, and the ~~dastardly, hateful, idiotic, imbecilic, insensate, meaningless, mindless, moronic, obtuse, senseless, stolid, stupefied, trivial, unintelligent, unthinking, witless~~ THING had the audacity to thank him.

It THANKED HIM. In English. It's lucky I can't reach it or I would have ripped it out of the ceiling.

A peaceful and CO-less existence once again reigns at The Mommy's household. No thanks to IT.

¿Donde esta el tequila?

OUUUUUUCCH

2009-04-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

My back is KILLING me. Ever since I had Finnigan and his BIG FAT BOWLING BALL HEAD, my back is royally screwed up.

Right now it hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. It hurts to lay down. I am currently pretzelfied into some kind of combination Downward Dog/fetal position. Anything to take the pressure off.

I need a chiropractor. Or my husband. He knows how to fix it.

:(

Oops, but LOL

2009-04-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

Today was another day in a string of beautiful weather. I got home from dropping the kids of at school, put the baby down for his nap, and started in on putting laundry out on the line. The stupid (I say that lovingly, but honestly) cat decided he wanted outdoor time, and was wrapping himself around my ankles yowling his little head off. So, I hooked him up to his lead in the middle of the yard with some food and water and a shaded bed, and let him go to it. When I was done putting the laundry out, he was still happily pouncing on bugs and chewing up the grass, so I figured I'd leave him to enjoy the sunshine while I went about other chores. I kept checking on him, and he was having a grand old time. I finally sat down about a half hour later, and all of a sudden I hear "MEOW! MEEOOWW! MEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!"

I figured he'd scared himself with his own shadow or wrapped his leash around the pole or something.

Nope.

He'd discovered our famous Canadian Five-minute rainstorms! HAHAHAHAHA!!!

He did NOT appreciate getting wet. The sun was shining the whole time, too. Poor little thing.

He's been skulking around inside and glaring at the windows and doors since then.

Why he couldn't figure out how to go into his little kitty condo to get out of the rain is just further proof that he's as brainless as I keep telling you. It was about two steps from where he was flattening himself out and trying to hide under a blade of grass.

(For what it's worth, those 5 minute rains are FANTASTIC for the line-dried clothes, it makes them so soft!)

BTW

2009-04-21T23:03:00.001-07:00

By the way, next time I am pregnant, I'm having professional photos taken throughout. I've had three kids and have like one pic of me with a baby in my belly, and it's taken head-on while I'm wearing a coat so you can't even tell. Next time I'm doing a profile weekly. Daily maybe. With a big spread each month. The whole family is going to be in the pics, so honey please start weed-whacking your chest now.

kthxbai.

But I don't WANNA!

2009-04-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

I was cruisin' the want ads today, looking for a job that I'd be interested in applying for. I found one, so I went to call up my resume to send in.

I'VE DELETED MY RESUME.

*tear*

I don't wanna do up the whole thing over again! I can't find it anywhere, not in the program I wrote it in, not in any of my document histories, NADA. It's gone.

Put on the coffee, it's gonna be a long night.

I suppose it's a silver lining that my job history is brief and recent...

Well, the smoke detectors work

2009-04-20T01:43:00.001-07:00

And they do not like candles.

And they talk!

Good to know.

Mr. Weston? Alanis called, wants to put you in her song

2009-04-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

The 'President's Choice' brand is inundating my television with ads for their products. The one I just saw was for a pitcher designed to eliminate the plastic litter going into our oceans (such was the premise of the commercial, anyway). The pitcher was made of plastic.

And isn't it ironic? Dontcha think? A little toooo ironic...

Galen Weston, sir, with all due respect - things like this make you look like an ass.

"Mmmmmmmm" is a complete sentence

2009-04-18T20:11:00.001-07:00

And in the morning, I'm makin' WAFFLES!

2009-04-18T02:51:00.000-07:00

Because today I got this majorly awesome and totally retro waffle maker from a nice stranger on Freecycle. :)

So, who's coming for breakfast?

Do it because it pisses people off

2009-04-18T00:54:00.000-07:00

Your word of the day is: Niggardly

nig⋅gard⋅ly
/ˈnɪgərdli/ [nig-erd-lee]

–adjective
1.
reluctant to give or spend; stingy; miserly.
2.
meanly or ungenerously small or scanty: a niggardly tip to a waiter.

–adverb
3.
in the manner of a niggard (an excessively parsimonious, miserly, or stingy person).

Origin: 1520–30; "NIGGARD" + "-LY"

Related forms:
nig⋅gard⋅li⋅ness, noun
Synonyms:1. penurious, miserly, mean, tight, avaricious, mercenary, illiberal, close. 2. poor.
Antonyms:1. generous.

But it sounds like the word "Nigger", so even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the racial slur, people hear -er instead of -ar and make asinine assumptions about the word's etymology. Then you can point and laugh.

When I'm bored I read dictionaries online. Be cool like me.

The post wherein Finn gets photobombed

2009-04-16T15:10:00.000-07:00

What is Photobombing, you ask? It's where you are trying to take a picture of your ridiculously cute toddler, and some jerk ruins it simply by being in the background.

Example:

See? I'm trying to look at the most handsome little boy on the planet, and all. I. can focus on. is that lady's asscrack!

Sigh. Time to flex my cropping skills...

Random photo-taking

2009-04-15T22:43:00.000-07:00

I got squeegeed

2009-04-15T21:32:00.001-07:00

I've heard before about these so-called "Squeegee Kids", kids who lurk at the sides of roads at intersections, wait until you get stuck at a red and then give your windshield a once-over with a squeegee like the one at the gas station (undoubtedly stolen from same) in the hopes of guilting you into ponying up a couple bucks. For a service you never asked for. I'd never seen one in real life though.

Until today.

Today I got squeegeed. Well not *me*, but my windshield. The squeegee-er had dredlocks and cord bracelets, and was wearing one of those weird pullovers that looks like a poncho and a doormat had a bastard baby with arms. I thought it was a boy, but then she spoke. I guess it was the layer of grime that gave the illusion of a 5 o'clock shadow.

They don't even ask, or signal, or give you time to protest, they just leap out in front of your car and start CLEANING it! Except... My windshield was cleaner before she assaulted my car. Which made me feel a little irritated. I didn't ask her to do it, or look at her even, or give her any kind of sign I required her services. So she squeegee's me with dirty water and then stands there looking to see if I'm digging in my purse? Am I supposed to be paying for the distraction of staring at the little red light in the sky?

I did not feel bad at all about not having any cash whatsoever on my person. Or Car-son. Unless she works for petrified french fries or the fuzzy little mints from the bottom of my purse, she's SOL. Meh, I'm not losing any sleep.

How much do squeegee kids really expect to make, though? A big ol' jug of windshield wash is like $2.00, and you get about 100 uses, right? So, if my car can wash my windshield for about two pennies and the push of a button, what's the cost of a wash with questionable water and no labour (on my behalf)? One penny? Less than that? I don't really like fractions. The way I figure, I had to push my little button and have my car wash a now-dirty windshield that had been perfectly FINE before she stepped in. That cost me two cents, PLUS the one cent for her to do it. I WANT MY THREE CENTS BACK! Squeegee weirdos should be paying US for their services!

Maybe they are the evil hench-people of the Big Winshield Wash Company, sent forth to bully us all into using more and more and MORE washer fluid all the time! Tsk, tsk. That stuff kills cats, you know.

Hear that Squeegie Girl? Every time you squeegie someone, God kills a kitten. Shame on you. Get a real job.

Next time I'm gonna run the red and make you into a road pancake. Then your similarly dirty and dreadlocked buddy over than can use HIS squeegee to clean you off the asphalt.

No.

Touchie.

My.

Car!

Springtime, and all that goes with it

2009-04-14T19:39:00.000-07:00

It is springtime at The Mommy's house. This means a few things.

Clothes go out on the line! Because who doesn't love a crunchy towel when they get out of the shower? But for the 40cents it will save us on the power bill, they can all get over it. That, or learn to drip dry.
Allergies. Namely, mine. I don't recall having allergies for the first 24 or so years of my life, aside from the standard pet-hair-up-your-nose type. However, since moving to this side of the country, I am apparently now allergic to EVERYTHING. My eyes are dry, my skin is dry, even my nails are all dried out. I'm itchy and sneezy and leaking from every orifice on my head... I have a killer sore throat from all the mucous, and I can feel how swollen one ear canal is. In short, I am miserable. The kids are unaffected. Of course.
Baby Fever. Yes, I said it. I have the baby fever. Babies are everywhere, and I want one too! Finn is getting so big, he's learning more and more words and we're talking about potty training... I want another baby! I love being pregnant, I love newborns, I love baby things. *sniff* Hurry home, husband, Finn wants to be a big brother!

(Actually, I'm not sure that the "Finn wants" argument is the way to go, here. He's currently taking all my clean underwear out of the laundry bin and putting them over his head and down around his neck like a necklace. I really don't know what to think about that.)

Oh, and Finn learned how to say "Ray" for Rachel, and can't say any word for Lily. You can guess how well that went over. Feelings were hurt, babies were shunned. You know what though? I think I'm going to put Lily in baseball. Because when she whipped that toy car at Rachel, her aim was dead on, and she managed to leave a welt from clear across the room.

TV teaches gud inglish

2009-04-09T17:47:00.000-07:00

Finn is playing Wheel of Fortune. It's actually really funny!

Finn: "A"
"E"
"D"
"EEEEEE"
"O"
"D"
"C"
"MEEEEE"

I'm not really sure what he's spelling, but he seems to think the audience is clapping for him and that's good enough.

Oh goodie, Finn's at that age

2009-04-09T00:16:00.000-07:00

Things I have pulled out of my VCR this week:

DVD's
The VCR remote
Sippy cup lid
Toast
Cat treats
More DVD's
His hat
Crayon
Oven mitt
Plant info marker
Chapstick
Plate
DVD's
Sock
Phone bill
Toy train
Board book
DVD's
Box of Nerds
Rick Rack
Sponge
Cookie
Fruit snacks wrapper
DVD's
Picture frame
My phone
Brooch
His hand, which had gotten stuck
A taco shell
Sigh... DVD's

I think that's it for now. However, I am missing my checkbook...

(And yes, the VCR still works fine. Amazing.)

Finn Says

2009-04-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

Finn has learned how to say "I love you" and "Thank you". It's so freaking cute I could just die. The kid kills me.

Because you all know how much I like Daffodils

2009-04-08T16:22:00.000-07:00

You know all those "Quilt Drives" where they ask everyone in the community to do up a 6"x6" square, and then they assemble all the squares into a quilt to be auctioned off for whatever reason? Well, this is my contribution. (Don't laugh, this is the first one I've ever attempted.)

Yes, it's supposed to be a daffodil.

I love daffodils, la la la!

2009-04-04T00:04:00.001-07:00

Baby in a box

2009-04-03T23:53:00.001-07:00

Homemade Bread: Round 1

2009-04-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

Bread: 1, The Mommy: 0

Stupid white bread, stupid refined sugar, STUPID HARD CANADIAN FLOUR.

Bah.

Tomorrow, I'm getting me some raw sugar and some baker's flour, and we're gonna try this shit again.

I'll trade you two testicles for an ovary

2009-03-30T22:31:00.000-07:00

Well, if you're wondering why you haven't heard from me lately, it is because The Daddy has arrived on leave. Hee hee.

In other news, today we traded gender roles! He fixed dinner while I played plumber. Dinner was great, I'll let you know how my plumb job holds later.

I went back to the gym today after two long weeks of being ~~lazy~~ housebound during March Break. I hurt. I barely made it through my workout. I can't wait to go back tomorrow!

My hair is red. I loooove it so much. I'll post pics soon, right now it's not got any product in it and I've worked up quite a 'fro. Note to self: Curly hair + short haircut = rather believable sheep impression. Yeah. Not good.

Bordom - not curiosity - killed the cat

2009-03-27T22:24:00.000-07:00

Have you even been really bored, so you go on Craigslist to tool around? And then once you've run out of sections of CL that interest you to look at, you start to look at the non-interesting categories? Have you ever clicked on the "Casual Encounters" tab?

No? Then DON'T.

Furthermore, do NOT click on any ad therein with a pic attached. Just DON'T.

I did. That is where I learned the following:

Somewhere, someone has a fetish for EVERYTHING. I understand the dress-up ones, but used maxi pads? Defecation? Hemmoroids? I have been schooled.
"Before Work" is the most popular time for a BJ.
Some of the men in my area should be porn actors.
Most of the women should not.
You really can tell the fake boobs from the real ones. Huh.
Pregnant women are in surprising demand.
The ferry from here to the mainland is just one big orgy on water. I'll be staying in my car from now on.
"Young" is mid-30's.
A suspicious number of posters seem to be "just passing through".
If you can host - you can have anything you want.

I'm actually a little alarmed. I go out into the town, and all these people are just walkin' around, acting all normal... Now I know that when the lights go out, the freakshow begins!