Because I Just Can’t STFU

May 31, 2006 BlogPants

I’m over here today too.

No, I’m not going to stop talking about the talking.

family

“Boyyys have peemeesessess!”

“Yes, boys have penises.”

“Goyles have peemeeseses?”

“No, girls have vaginas.”

“Boys have peemeeseses. Goyles have vaginasaurs.”

I think we had better work on that one. Rawr.

Oh and don’t say that word out loud.? I just did and well, ew.

Daren, You’re Wasting Our Money

family

Quit surfing Google from your cell phone. It’s not abuse, it’s reality.

And get back to work, Mister.

Much Love…

BlogPants

….to my cousin Jessica.? She had surgery on both legs yesterday.? Go give her some bloggy lovin’.? Thanks.

tidbits

BlogPants

Troll Baby’s new habit is stealing all change left out by the change fairy and filling up his “KiggyGank.” I’m pretty sure he has at least $10, accumulated over a week. At least he’s attempting to pull his weight around here. Oh and he’s also obsessed with wearing one of my stretched out hair scrunchies things as a necklace. Just try and take it off of him.

You know how all dogs go to heaven? Well, all poisoned ants go under the poker table where they shrviel up and die. I just vaccuumed up about 50 of those little carcasses. What a pain in the thorax.

Our furnace broke in the middle of this heat wave, two days ago. While we thought about replacing it, Daren’s buddy came over last night, replaced a fuse, and voila! Instant arctic. The funny part is this happens EVERY spring and neither one of us remembers to check the fuses. And we are raising children. Brit-twit’s kids stand more of a chance, really.

From the pics last night, you can see we’re spending some time near splash pads. We went again last night after school and dude behind me lit up a smoke. I quit 10 days ago and already the smell makes me want to punch someone in the face. It’s so gross. I’m glad I feel that way. The big test will be parties. And parties while drinking.

I just spent money on myself this morning (a rare thing, believe me) and bought these. Gorgeous, aren’t they?

Oh yeah, and we’re looking at houses. Not nutso, actively looking, just browsing. I can’t believe the kind of places we can afford. We’ve both always wanted a pool, and to live outside the city. Daren is talking about living in a brand new house - you know, picking the colours and stuff. After looking at a bunch online, I have to agree. What the hell is wrong with people who decide to paint their livingrooms bright fushia? Seriously. Head injury? Blindness? Oy.

Well I have to make lunch for the little gaffer, and then get to work. I love my job, but I have got to cut back on the late nights. For a while there, I was working from 7 p.m. until 1 a.m. and up at 6:30 to get Dylan off to school, plus working as much as I could in the morning, and while Troll Baby slept in the afternoon. Crazy eh?

Where is everyone? I’ve seen record traffic this week but hardly any comments. Do I smell? Did I forget to fill the candy dish? Ya’ll, is it too hot to type? I’m just sayin’.

Warm

May 30, 2006 BlogPants

See the rest of the set here.

Theme courtesy of Mama Says Om.

Oh my God, the talking. It never stops.

May 28, 2006 family

Friday was my checkup at the doctor. All is well, thanks for asking. If lumpy comes back, doc will arrange surgery much quicker this time. I went in there, expecting to point out how much the ball was dropped through this whole situation, but she totally took the lead, and I had to give her props for that. It may never return, but we’re ready if it does.

During the visit, I was asked to give a urine sample, and since I had Thomas with me, he came with. He watched me intently as I pulled a sample cup out of the cupboard, take off the lid, and stick the cup between my legs.

“Mommy peein’ in da cup?”

“Yes sweetie, Mommy is peeing in the cup.” (The waiting room is RIGHT NEXT TO THE BATHROOM. Nice planning.)

I finish and start putting the lid back on, and Thomas screams, “FISH! FISH! MOMMMY DA FISH IN THE CUP!”

Oh my God. Can I die now? I can hear chuckling from the waiting room.

“No Thomas, it’s pee pee in the cup.”

“TUNNUS WANT DA FISH!”

I scramble to write my name on my cup, and stick it in the hatch for the nurse. I quickly wash my hands and get a new cup for Thomas. His face lights up with sheer delight and pride as he walks back to the exam room with his cup.

We get settled and Thomas holds the cup up. “Where’s da fish?”

I look around for something to weave into fish. I opt for paper towel, and rip up some shreds and stick them in the cup. He is beaming as he steps on the stool and pours the ‘fish’ onto the exam table. “Fish on da pable Mommy!”

The doctor comes in and we laugh about Thomas and his urine cup of fish. We have our little preliminary conversation and after the examination, guess what was stuck to my ass?

Fast forward to today.

From the time Thomas awoke, until right now, at ten frikkin’ thirty, because the Lord knows why this child is still awake and nattering on about “I want to see peemees, I want helmet, I want more nnnnilk…..” I just don’t frikkin’ know and I’m ready to rip my own head off, and oh my God, he has been talking ALL DAY.

Being Daren’s only day off this week, Daren and I tackled some major spring cleaning today as Thomas ran back and forth between our seperate workstations, chattering about “Keeeeening wiff de vacceeen,” “Gangket neeeds a vacceeeen,” and “Ants! Kill da ants! Wiff da vacceeen!” (You would think the kid never, uh, sees the vaccuum.)

So Daren had the electrical fancy shmancy* saw set up on the back deck, which is off our kitchen, and he was cutting the trim for our bedroom which I recently painted. I was busy pulling out every piece of furniture, every knick knack and every knob off of every appliance, trying to get everything spring cleany. Since we wanted to keep his limbs intact and sawdust from scratching his corneas, I had to watch the little man while I cleaned out all the winter gear and footwear (finally! we have warmth!) from the front hall closet.

“Mommy! Sooooes! Mommy! Yook! Soooes! Mommy, Tunnus keen wiff da vacceeen!” He proceeded to walk around in my sandals, and made the most adorable fake vaccuum sounds as he pushed the attachment along the livingroom carpet. As Daren’s saw went off with every cut, Thomas echoed that noise with a high pitched “Mmmmmmmmmmaahhhh,” letting the last part of his noise fall, like the saw did as it geared down.

The icing on the cake today was Thomas’ new game of jumping off the Lego bin, as I folded laundry after dinner. His new favorite line? “Get down off the frikken Wegos!”

Watch and enjoy.

I just went up to a very wet, very upset baby, who, while I changed his “biaper,” looked up at me and said, “Mommy you a dood fit.” (Dood means good.) Tears. Welling. Up. Again.

*This is code for I don’t know what kind of saw it is but it is a circle and it cuts on an angle. And no, I’m not asking him. he will laugh at me, because he has told me about 50 times what kind of saw it really is.

P.S. ….I’m trying out some new things around here and there are broken links etc….I’m working on it. The three long-ass blogrolls are not permanent.? I’m gonna roll them up.? Just really busy right now….

Perfection Ain’t Perfect

May 25, 2006 Me, Unplugged

Before I had children, I had an idea of what kind of mother I wanted to be. I had a mental list of what things would be like. I would be a WONDERFUL mother. One who is involved, one who spends time with her kids, doing elaborate crafts and enriching activities, and one who cooks 3 nutritious meals a day, one who keeps the house clean all the time, one who sews Halloween costumes, volunteers at the school, one who puts out nightly for her loving husband (whom she dotes on,) one who has a rewarding career outside the home, and generally does it all. It was really what I wanted.

You can stop laughing now.

Clearly, that mental list isn’t ideal, and CLEARLY these thoughts were before I had children. I was 24 when I had Dylan. For the first year of his life, I was tired, the house was a mess, Daren rarely got a home-cooked meal unless he cooked it, and my career was over. Oh wait, I was only a Customer Service Manager for a big box store. I didn’t really care about that.

I have to give myself a little credit though. Dylan was well fed, and I spent every waking minute taking care of him, from his belly to his mind. I loved being a stay-at-home Mom. It was really what I wanted.

Once Dylan was 10 months old, I had to go back to work. If there is one thing about me, it’s that I don’t do things half assed. I worked my way up at a few different print firms, until I landed at a huge corporation, making huge bucks, and working huge hours, resulting in huge time missed with Dylan and Daren. The career part was the best though. It was really what I wanted.

Another thing about me is once I dive head first, I keep swimming deeper and deeper, until I begin to drown and I float to the top, not able to breathe. I quit my stressful job and traded the long hours at work for trips to the park and Playdoh. Daren and I decided I would stay home with Dylan, while we tried to conceive another child. Sweet. It’s really what I wanted.

I looked at these cheese-deli articles in parenting magazines about things you could be doing with your kids, these nutsy activities like sewing new siding on the house using recycled cracker boxes, making birthday cakes with Teddy Grahams diving into Jello swimming pools in the middle, and for a long while, I felt inadequate. I’ve never really done this stay-at-home thing before, like full throttle. My clients and co-workers at my old job were old enough to wipe their own butts and faces. So while I got to know this stay-at-home gig, I felt very stupid and inept. Other mothers could multi-task things like decopage, nursing and dishes at once! Some mothers had twins! Triplets even! How in the world would I fit in where these mothers have it so together, so perfectly, and they all know each other so well? How could I possibly measure up when my knowledge consisted of profit margins and toner consumption?

When Thomas was born, I had this crazy notion that I knew what I was doing. I had done this before, after all. I knew how to nurse, how change a diaper, how to soothe ANY baby. Well he came out of the womb, stood on my flabby belly, and smacked upside the head, “YOU HAVE NO CLUE, WOMAN!”

Things got worse. Though I was starting to get a handle on domestication of the Canadian Family Unit, Troll Baby had brought with him a slew of demands that drove me into Post Partum Depression.

When I confided in one of the housewife friends, (who I had become very close to), she laughed. Laughed! I was shocked that she simply laughed, when I felt so much shame and emotional pain. Then she explained: “So-and-so is on Paxil. I’m on Effexor. You know so-and-so? Well she is on 3 different drugs. Oh and so-and-so on such-and-such street? On drugs. Everyone is on drugs!”

I was dumbfounded. I had been playing this stupid facade of a housewife game with these bitches for how long? WITHOUT DRUGS? So not fair. I’m telling!

That day I learned, that not only was half my community in an altered state, but that none of them are perfect. None of them are able to play the part all the time. Their houses get messy, their meals aren’t always chock-full of beta-carotine, their kids often zone out in front of the tube. They eat popcorn for dinner, skipping the salad they claim is their secret to a tiny waist. They certainly don’t put out every night, and a blow-job is often referred to as “His annual checkup.”

None of those bitches are perfect. And this bitch isn’t perfect either.

I am still a stay-at-home Mom. I have finally found myself again, dating my husband, working from home, and I have to say, this is really what I want. Really really.

As for the house being clean, the meals being gourmet, the enriching activities and elaborate crafts, I’m still laughing at that mental list. Sure I spend time with the kids. We play the fart game, jump on the beds, and see who can blech the alphabet the longest. We colour, we read, we play Lego’s, we skateboard, play hockey, soccer and the go-to-bed-now-or-I-will-strangle-you-game. The laundry sits folded (or not,) in baskets. There’s dust and dog hair in the corners. There are fingerprints on every glass surface of this house. There is love in every nook and cranny of this home too. I’m more mental then my mental list. But you know what? I AM a WONDERFUL mother. Just not the one I thought I would be.

Search Strings That Bring All the Boys to the Yard

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We all know that the cure of cankles has brought many a cankle-clad person here. Honestly, I get about 10 searches a day now, whereas when I was on Blogger, it was about that many a week. Interesting.

Now there are a new breed of searchers. A breed I don’t understand. A breed that makes me question logic as I know it. Here’s a sampling from the past week:

younger baby .com - how much younger than baby can you get, without searching for sperm?

baby shit - really, WHY would you go looking for that?

how to cocaine for baby shit - I didn’t know cocaine was a verb, nor did I know baby shit was a currency that was acceptable in the drug trade. Did you?

tongue is so long - perverted aliens. Looking for tongue porn again.

blogskins on babies - now I’m stumped on this one. Babies don’t wear blogskins. I mean I’ve seen Anne Geddes put alot of weird stuff on babies, but never blogskins.

how big should i let my bartholin cyst get - Good God. I was wondering that same thing. The size of an orange was about all I could stand, and if it had grown any bigger, I think I would have taken a crochet hook to it.

irish troll sound - depends how drunk you get him and if you feed him roast and potatoes.

om chain for baby - you mean I could get some peace during the day? I’m all ears.

funny dangers sing for msn - wow! funny dangers sing for msn? left crazy elbow dance for nbc!

Bored yet? Well you gotta pick some punch lines for one or more of the following real searches that brought people here:

punch baby.com

stink baby.com

paper baby.com

died baby num num cookies

baby treatment husband

baby painful fart

moms blowing raspberries on babies stomach i m glad

You know you want to…….have fun!

Thomas the Talk Engine

May 24, 2006 family

First thing this morning, when I go in to get him from his crib: “Poop Mommy? Poop Mommy in da bum. Miss Daddy? Nice sleep? More Niwlk (milk)? Gangket! Gangket!”

Wow kid. Lay off the demands first thing.

I get him all changed as he talks my ear off: “Dinosaurs Rawr. Dinosaurs rawr. Cows moo. Cat. Meow. Dogs ruff. Frogs Ribbet. Daddy FAAAART. Pffffsssttt. Gangket! Gangket! Keen Tonnas ears Cute Pips? Powder Peemees? Sing Song?”

Oy.

Lately all he will watch is Finding Nemo. He screams at the t.v when Nemo’s Mom and Dad get attacked at the beginning: “Whale! Whale! Water! Water! NEMO! NEMOOOOOO MOMMY!!!!”

After lunch: “Watssh Nemo Moooviee?”

After dinner: “Watssh Nemo Moooovie?”

After bathtime: “Watssh Nemo Moooovie?”

As I was putting away laundry this morning, I let him play in Dylan’s room. I don’t usually let him roam in there since Dylan is pretty anal about all his treasures, but he was being good and having fun.

To Dylan’s fish: “NEMO!! NEMO!! Mommy Nemo Fish!”

He spotted Dylan’s playstation: “Mommy. Pay Games?”

Then he found Dylan’s rock collection and picked 3 colourful rocks out: “Free Wocks?”

He has counted and re-counted them, one, two, free.

As I write this, he is playing with Elmo-Goes-To-The-Doctor-Elmo, and mumbling something about “Mowf hurt. Kiss Elmo. Fix Elmo tummy and toes. Elmo goa doccer.” He just covered Elmo up with his Gangket. Now if only I could get him to tuck me in. I could totally use a nap!

Video of Thomas the Talk Engine - Full Trottle.