This morning we had to wake the little sleepyhead up and she takes after her mother in that she is, shall we say, a crusty, grumpy, don't look at me until I've had a cup of coffee in my sippy cup kinda gal.
Daddy wanted to snuggle with her, but at first she was having none of it and when he asked her, "Are you Daddy's girl?" She replied with a very firm, "NO. Mummy girl."
I admit to feeling a certain smug satisfaction with her answer considering she is her father's daughter in every other way!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Getting older can just suck it
My knee is still shot from a torn ligament.
My feet hurt and it could be plantar something or other that requires orthotics.
I color my grey hair because I'm just vain enough.
I'm getting my lipids checked. As in cholesterol levels.
And here I thought lipids was just a fancy description for "all you can eat buffets".
My feet hurt and it could be plantar something or other that requires orthotics.
I color my grey hair because I'm just vain enough.
I'm getting my lipids checked. As in cholesterol levels.
And here I thought lipids was just a fancy description for "all you can eat buffets".
Friday, June 20, 2008
Happy Friday!
We're going bowling this afternoon and then off to a bbq at the very fancy home of one of the vice presidents. It will be fun, in part because it's always awkwardly hilarious to see the "bosses" get smashed and sing karaoke off-key and pretend that they are just like us. Which we are very aware they are so NOT.
I'm also happy because in only 4-and-a-half-work-days I will be on a month-long vacation during which I can sleep in (to 7:15 a.m.), read a book (more than 2 sentences in a row), and try to sit still (for more than 3 minutes at a time).
I also plan to drink vodka and Crystal Light in enormous quantities while sitting lakeside, just because I can.
I'm also happy because in only 4-and-a-half-work-days I will be on a month-long vacation during which I can sleep in (to 7:15 a.m.), read a book (more than 2 sentences in a row), and try to sit still (for more than 3 minutes at a time).
I also plan to drink vodka and Crystal Light in enormous quantities while sitting lakeside, just because I can.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Last Days
We go through the day to day stuff of parenting and hours and weeks seem unending as kids drive you insane with questions, OH THE QUESTIONS, and a minute feels several hours long and you wish for peace and quiet and bathroom time all to yourself because you can't see straight for all the babble coming at you from every direction.
Today is his last day of school and he'll be starting grade 6 this fall. How the hell did this happen? I blink and realize that my baby boy will soon be finished elementary school and I'll blink again and he'll be getting married or having a baby. Someone please explain how we can send a robot to Mars but we haven't figured out how to delay time?
I'm not ready. I want to keep him at this age because he still needs me to guide him between right and wrong, to wash his clothes, to read stories to, to have cozies before bedtime and tuck him in 'snug-as-a-b
ug'. I want to keep him close to me so I can see with my own eyes that he is safe from a stranger nabbing him at the grocery store, safe from being bullied by teenagers at the park, safe from falling down and scraping his knee, safe from having his heart broken by his first crush, safe from all the hurt and disappointment that will come his way because that is part of living.
It is true what they say: when you have a baby, your heart is forever beating on the outside of your body. It is walking around out there in all it's bittersweet vulnerability in the form of growing children and it ceases to belong to you alone.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Unless I can get it bubble wrapped.
Today is his last day of school and he'll be starting grade 6 this fall. How the hell did this happen? I blink and realize that my baby boy will soon be finished elementary school and I'll blink again and he'll be getting married or having a baby. Someone please explain how we can send a robot to Mars but we haven't figured out how to delay time?
I'm not ready. I want to keep him at this age because he still needs me to guide him between right and wrong, to wash his clothes, to read stories to, to have cozies before bedtime and tuck him in 'snug-as-a-b
ug'. I want to keep him close to me so I can see with my own eyes that he is safe from a stranger nabbing him at the grocery store, safe from being bullied by teenagers at the park, safe from falling down and scraping his knee, safe from having his heart broken by his first crush, safe from all the hurt and disappointment that will come his way because that is part of living.It is true what they say: when you have a baby, your heart is forever beating on the outside of your body. It is walking around out there in all it's bittersweet vulnerability in the form of growing children and it ceases to belong to you alone.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Unless I can get it bubble wrapped.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Poor Bébé
The last couple of days have been spent trying to cool the 104 degree fever my daughter was suffering from.
Nothing makes you feel more helpless than seeing your usually very energetic toddler just lay there with barely enough energy to lift her head off the sofa cushion. We ended up taking her to the children's hospital because our family doctor was on vacation, and instead of my usual course of under-reacting to things like this, I actually listened to my gut which was telling me to have her checked out, if for no other reason, than to put my mind at ease.
She had been refusing all liquids (popsicles, even!) for several hours and even when she's been sick before, she has always wanted something to drink. I did not want her to end up dehydrated or puking or having a seizure (which I'm told can happen with high fevers).
As it happens, my daughter does not like doctors. Or nurses. Or having her temperature taken. Or the little heart-rate monitor they tried to stick on her finger. But most especially? She loudly protested the blood pressure cuff they used. And when I say "loudly", what I really mean is the high-pitched squeal followed by the piercing scream of displeasure heard the next province over.
You there, in Quebec? That screech 'round about 2:00 p.m. yesterday afternoon was not the engine of an incoming 737 to the airport. It was my daughter voicing her extreme pissed-off-ness to everyone within earshot and the hearing problem I've had in my right ear for years graduated from a problem to I think I'm now deaf on that side.
Today, she is fever-free but tired. And that means she is tetchy, bossy, and smiling at everyone around her. Loudly.
Nothing makes you feel more helpless than seeing your usually very energetic toddler just lay there with barely enough energy to lift her head off the sofa cushion. We ended up taking her to the children's hospital because our family doctor was on vacation, and instead of my usual course of under-reacting to things like this, I actually listened to my gut which was telling me to have her checked out, if for no other reason, than to put my mind at ease.
She had been refusing all liquids (popsicles, even!) for several hours and even when she's been sick before, she has always wanted something to drink. I did not want her to end up dehydrated or puking or having a seizure (which I'm told can happen with high fevers).
As it happens, my daughter does not like doctors. Or nurses. Or having her temperature taken. Or the little heart-rate monitor they tried to stick on her finger. But most especially? She loudly protested the blood pressure cuff they used. And when I say "loudly", what I really mean is the high-pitched squeal followed by the piercing scream of displeasure heard the next province over.
You there, in Quebec? That screech 'round about 2:00 p.m. yesterday afternoon was not the engine of an incoming 737 to the airport. It was my daughter voicing her extreme pissed-off-ness to everyone within earshot and the hearing problem I've had in my right ear for years graduated from a problem to I think I'm now deaf on that side.
Today, she is fever-free but tired. And that means she is tetchy, bossy, and smiling at everyone around her. Loudly.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Happy Father's Day!
My dad. I don't really know what to write because how I feel about him is so much larger than life and I think that whatever I try to put down in words here will not do him justice.
He is strong, emotionally, physically, mentally. He is gentle and loving. He is funny. He is friendly. He is dependable. He gets this look on his face when he's snuggling with one of his 10 grandchildren - it is love and bliss in its purest form. He has been my confidant in times when I could not talk to anyone else and I honestly don't know how he sometimes didn't reach through the phone line to throttle my neck in frustration because whatever lesson I was trying to learn just wasn't getting through my stubborn head.
Even now at age 37, my daddy is still up on a pedestal, even though I do recognize he is a human being. I love him very much. With his superhero cape and everything.
To my Jeff: Happy Father's Day! Your patience with my boy is unending. You explain things to him in a way that only men and boys understand. You have your special hug and hand-slap goodnight, which is amusing for me to see because there is so much love for each other in it.
I love watching you with our little girl. You shake your head with a smile on your face when she says, "No Daddy. ME DO IT." The bond between you is unshakeable and the love you have for her is endless. She is blessed with your love.
She also has your toes.
He is strong, emotionally, physically, mentally. He is gentle and loving. He is funny. He is friendly. He is dependable. He gets this look on his face when he's snuggling with one of his 10 grandchildren - it is love and bliss in its purest form. He has been my confidant in times when I could not talk to anyone else and I honestly don't know how he sometimes didn't reach through the phone line to throttle my neck in frustration because whatever lesson I was trying to learn just wasn't getting through my stubborn head.
Even now at age 37, my daddy is still up on a pedestal, even though I do recognize he is a human being. I love him very much. With his superhero cape and everything.
To my Jeff: Happy Father's Day! Your patience with my boy is unending. You explain things to him in a way that only men and boys understand. You have your special hug and hand-slap goodnight, which is amusing for me to see because there is so much love for each other in it.
I love watching you with our little girl. You shake your head with a smile on your face when she says, "No Daddy. ME DO IT." The bond between you is unshakeable and the love you have for her is endless. She is blessed with your love.
She also has your toes.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Suburban Bliss
I'm on a weekend getaway without my hubby and kids.
I miss them, but am relaxing in a way that just isn't possible when young'uns are clamoring for attention. As in, I can read more than 2 sentences at a time in my book. And go pee without someone banging on the door because what they have to say at that exact moment cannot possibly wait the extra 10 seconds I need to finish. I had a pedicure today, while sitting in a vibrating massage chair.
And the good times keep on rollin'...!
I miss them, but am relaxing in a way that just isn't possible when young'uns are clamoring for attention. As in, I can read more than 2 sentences at a time in my book. And go pee without someone banging on the door because what they have to say at that exact moment cannot possibly wait the extra 10 seconds I need to finish. I had a pedicure today, while sitting in a vibrating massage chair.
And the good times keep on rollin'...!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Finish Line Is In Sight
Dunh, dunh, DUNH!!
No more wipes. No more Pull-Ups. No more Malteser poops rolling out and onto my bed or the floor.
She is staying dry all night long, she is going pee-pee all by herself - "Mummy, femme la porte (close the door), me go pee!" She craves privacy to read the Archie comics close at hand while taking care of business. She also likes to rub gobs of lotion in her hair when she's done. (And yes, I probably should put the bottle of lotion up higher and out of reach, but then the screaming for MY LOOOOOO-SHHHHUUUUUUNNN would be heard from Vancouver to Halifax.)
The only reward she's ever received during the entire potty-training ritual is our over the top excitement at every little tinkle and fart (because a fart can lead to pooping, and farts are funny!). She also has the pleasure of flushing the toilet. Let me tell you, I think much more in this world can be accomplished, if we'd all only get along and take turns flushing the toilet.
As a parent, you understand just how momentous this truly is - freedom to just pick up and go anywhere is so close I can taste it.
And now I've just grossed myself out by talking about "poop" and "taste" in the same post.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Pardon me while I vomit
From an article in the Daily Mail: "Breastfeeding is said to benefit both mother and baby in the first six months of a babies life, but mother-of-two Stella Onions has taken this to the extreme as she continues to nurse daughter Josephine, nearly five and a half, and her little brother Zac, who is almost four, with her 'mummy milk'."
Just a thought, but if your kids can tie their own shoes, read and write, and wipe their own asses, they can probably handle drinking out of a cup.
Then again, I'm Canadian and we're polite that way. We don't want to unnecessarily expose our breasts in public unless there's a video producer from Girls Gone Wild around.
Just a thought, but if your kids can tie their own shoes, read and write, and wipe their own asses, they can probably handle drinking out of a cup.
Then again, I'm Canadian and we're polite that way. We don't want to unnecessarily expose our breasts in public unless there's a video producer from Girls Gone Wild around.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Other Uses For A Tennis Racket
I bolted awake at 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning knowing in my heart (which was up in my throat at that exact moment) the flapping noise I'd just heard RIGHT BESIDE ME was not our darling dog Marla shaking her head. It was a bat, and it was on the floor next to the patio door, which is right beside our bed. RIGHT BESIDE ME, in case I've not been clear.
I am TERRIFIED of bats. HYSTERICALLY FRIGHTENED of them. And I was home alone with our daughter, who was soundly sleeping in her bedroom and a dog who likes to lay as close as possible to the floor in this heatwave and just watch the world go by. Chasing after bats just doesn't interest her because she will only lift her head if it looks like the humans might feed her.
So I did what any self-respecting mummy in a modern world would do: I screamed. Very loudly. And ran out of our bedroom trying to slam the door closed behind me, flicked a couple of lights on and hid in the baby's room. Then realized I didn't have the phone with me and was going to have to go back to the bedroom where the bat was no doubt flying around and calling all his little bat friends to come and join the fun. Hey, guys! C'mon! You gotta check this out! She's still screaming and crying! It's awesome! I am a SUPA-STAR!!
I peeked out the door in time to see the bat go flying out of our bedroom and down the hall to hide who-knows-where, grabbed my 2-year-old, and ran back into our room. Both daughter and dog are looking at me like, I don't know, I've lost my mind because at this point I have.
Did I mention the hysterical sobbing? Incomprehensible crying? Oh yes, and I tried calling my hubby who had TURNED THE CELL PHONE OFF, reached our friend Phil instead (thank you, thank you, thank you, Uncle Philly), who very calmly said something along the lines of "You'll be fine, let me walk down to your cottage and get Jeff for you." And when I heard my Jeff's voice, I lost it even further because he was 2 hours away and sniff, there's, sniff, a B-A-A-sniff-half-scream-A-TTT, sniff, in the H-O-U-scream-with abject-terror-S-S-S-E-E and he very firmly tells me to calm down because I'm going to have to try to find and get rid of it on my own. Yeah, nooo, not anywhere close to that happening in this lifetime or the next ten.
Not much he can do from where he is and I think I'm about to pass out or throw up but decide to call my sister, Bebe, who is on her way at 4:30 a.m. I feel much better after she searches around, then I feel not so great because she couldn't find it and my bat-dar is going nutty 'cause I know it's still in the house. I call my hubby back who suggests that I try to go back to sleep for little bit and then why don't I come up to the cottage later in the morning and spend the day? Later in the morning? It's 5:45 a.m. and I'm leaving in less than five minutes.
To conclude:
1. My sister knows how absolutely petrified I am of bats so she was willing and able to drive 30 minutes one-way to get to my house to deal with this for her blubbering-scared-stiff sister. She also knows how much I love her for being there for me when I'm about to launch myself off the edge of abject fear and she is very calm and awesome with reassuring hugs. Plus, she is one of the best bat-busters out there, but you can't have her, she's mine.
2. My Jeff. One of the reasons I love him is that he WILL tell me to 'CALM THE FUCK DOWN' exactly when I need to hear it, and even if I cannot do it, it pisses me off and gets me to focus for a necessary crucial moment away from the edge of hysteria.
Also? Because he killed that mother-fucking-bat with a tennis racket last night. Let me tell you, having my hubby seek and destroy the thing I am most scared of is pretty high on the list of reasons I love him so much.
That and he's a really good kisser.
I am TERRIFIED of bats. HYSTERICALLY FRIGHTENED of them. And I was home alone with our daughter, who was soundly sleeping in her bedroom and a dog who likes to lay as close as possible to the floor in this heatwave and just watch the world go by. Chasing after bats just doesn't interest her because she will only lift her head if it looks like the humans might feed her.
So I did what any self-respecting mummy in a modern world would do: I screamed. Very loudly. And ran out of our bedroom trying to slam the door closed behind me, flicked a couple of lights on and hid in the baby's room. Then realized I didn't have the phone with me and was going to have to go back to the bedroom where the bat was no doubt flying around and calling all his little bat friends to come and join the fun. Hey, guys! C'mon! You gotta check this out! She's still screaming and crying! It's awesome! I am a SUPA-STAR!!
I peeked out the door in time to see the bat go flying out of our bedroom and down the hall to hide who-knows-where, grabbed my 2-year-old, and ran back into our room. Both daughter and dog are looking at me like, I don't know, I've lost my mind because at this point I have.
Did I mention the hysterical sobbing? Incomprehensible crying? Oh yes, and I tried calling my hubby who had TURNED THE CELL PHONE OFF, reached our friend Phil instead (thank you, thank you, thank you, Uncle Philly), who very calmly said something along the lines of "You'll be fine, let me walk down to your cottage and get Jeff for you." And when I heard my Jeff's voice, I lost it even further because he was 2 hours away and sniff, there's, sniff, a B-A-A-sniff-half-scream-A-TTT, sniff, in the H-O-U-scream-with abject-terror-S-S-S-E-E and he very firmly tells me to calm down because I'm going to have to try to find and get rid of it on my own. Yeah, nooo, not anywhere close to that happening in this lifetime or the next ten.
Not much he can do from where he is and I think I'm about to pass out or throw up but decide to call my sister, Bebe, who is on her way at 4:30 a.m. I feel much better after she searches around, then I feel not so great because she couldn't find it and my bat-dar is going nutty 'cause I know it's still in the house. I call my hubby back who suggests that I try to go back to sleep for little bit and then why don't I come up to the cottage later in the morning and spend the day? Later in the morning? It's 5:45 a.m. and I'm leaving in less than five minutes.
To conclude:
1. My sister knows how absolutely petrified I am of bats so she was willing and able to drive 30 minutes one-way to get to my house to deal with this for her blubbering-scared-stiff sister. She also knows how much I love her for being there for me when I'm about to launch myself off the edge of abject fear and she is very calm and awesome with reassuring hugs. Plus, she is one of the best bat-busters out there, but you can't have her, she's mine.
2. My Jeff. One of the reasons I love him is that he WILL tell me to 'CALM THE FUCK DOWN' exactly when I need to hear it, and even if I cannot do it, it pisses me off and gets me to focus for a necessary crucial moment away from the edge of hysteria.
Also? Because he killed that mother-fucking-bat with a tennis racket last night. Let me tell you, having my hubby seek and destroy the thing I am most scared of is pretty high on the list of reasons I love him so much.
That and he's a really good kisser.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Temper, temper
Last week was filled with numerous temper tantrums by our daughter. Three-hour-long tantrums. Tantrums in which I was certain her head was going to spin around her neck several times, devil horns would sprout on her head, and she would spontaneously alight from her bed to hover over us as we cowered in the corner.
I haven't been able to write for a few days because I am still trying to recover from the twitching and hyperventilating that now occurs in me whenever her voice moves up an octave.
But that was a week ago. We survived the horror and so did she, and for the most part, she seems to have returned to her usual bossy-but-smiling-self.
I will admit that at one point I actually had the thought that if I SLAP HER, MAYBE SHE WILL STOP THE SCREAMING. Oh, the SCREAMING. Instead, out of sheer frustration and exhaustion, I left her in her crib and cried my eyes out on our front porch because I love my daughter and would never, ever raise a hand to her...unless it is to pass her my empty martini glass for a refill.
Some days it seems that I'm the only one who thinks this mothering stuff is hard.
I haven't been able to write for a few days because I am still trying to recover from the twitching and hyperventilating that now occurs in me whenever her voice moves up an octave.
But that was a week ago. We survived the horror and so did she, and for the most part, she seems to have returned to her usual bossy-but-smiling-self.
I will admit that at one point I actually had the thought that if I SLAP HER, MAYBE SHE WILL STOP THE SCREAMING. Oh, the SCREAMING. Instead, out of sheer frustration and exhaustion, I left her in her crib and cried my eyes out on our front porch because I love my daughter and would never, ever raise a hand to her...unless it is to pass her my empty martini glass for a refill.
Some days it seems that I'm the only one who thinks this mothering stuff is hard.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Candles, and cake, and vodka, OH MY!
So, there was no romantic birthday dinner with hubby on the weekend, which, happily, has nothing to do with getting laid as it turns out.
Instead, as a surprise (which turned out to not be too much of a surprise because when you love and live with someone, you tend to pick up on little hints they drop, which turn out to be BIG! SECRET! REVEALED!) he organized a birthday party for me. Our friends and some family were there, and based on the very lovely and very unexpected gifts they done brung me, it is obvious that they love me and are concerned for my mental state. Also, they understand my kids are stressing me out just a little bit these days.
Hence, the wonderful "calm her the hell down" lotions and relaxing candles I received (Thanks Martine & Guy and Sue!)
Also, I'm pretty sure they think I'm an alcoholic, what with all the vodka (thanks Carle & Sylvie!) and wine (thanks, Tasha, Carole, Sue & Mike, and Sophie and Sean!!) I received. Of course, that makes them ENABLERS.
What can I say? I had a great time, I have terrific friends and I love all of them.
And my hubby? I love him best of all.
Instead, as a surprise (which turned out to not be too much of a surprise because when you love and live with someone, you tend to pick up on little hints they drop, which turn out to be BIG! SECRET! REVEALED!) he organized a birthday party for me. Our friends and some family were there, and based on the very lovely and very unexpected gifts they done brung me, it is obvious that they love me and are concerned for my mental state. Also, they understand my kids are stressing me out just a little bit these days.
Hence, the wonderful "calm her the hell down" lotions and relaxing candles I received (Thanks Martine & Guy and Sue!)
Also, I'm pretty sure they think I'm an alcoholic, what with all the vodka (thanks Carle & Sylvie!) and wine (thanks, Tasha, Carole, Sue & Mike, and Sophie and Sean!!) I received. Of course, that makes them ENABLERS.
What can I say? I had a great time, I have terrific friends and I love all of them.
And my hubby? I love him best of all.
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