The RAP Sheet: February 2008

February 29, 2008 The RAP Sheet

Blogging was made for bitching.

Whether it’s about slow drivers, unruly children, or spouses who can’t seem to pick up their own underwear, the blogosphere is constantly atwitter with our gripes. And while we would in no way suggest you stop bitching, once in a while it’s nice to stop and remember some of those people who makes us forget about the dirty underwear.

It is because of those people that Hilly, Britt and I decided to launch The RAP Sheet.

Out here in Blogaritaville, there are some Ridiculously Awesome People. People who touch us, who make us laugh, who make us want to reward them with a cutesy graphic. Those are the people we add to The RAP Sheet. (read through to the end where I’ll tell you how you can play along!)

So without holding back any longer, my RAP Sheet will kick off with someone very special:

(more…)

Muffintop In Da House!

February 26, 2008 Muffintop

I’ve been cheating on you, dear readers. Averaging one post a week here for the last while is a direct result of my infidelity to this website, and I’m sorry.

I’ve been working on something bigger. Not necessarily better, just bigger.

My ass.

Rather than bore the living crap out of you with BMI (high), nutrition (meager), and cardio (pathetic), I thought I’d bring you the lighter side (pun intended) of getting into shape.

Welcome to a new category here at Sugarpants: Muffintop.

My personal trainer, G, is a young skinny bitch with the authority to kick my ass. I gave her that right when I signed on 8 sessions ago. I told her I wanted to “work out like an athlete, not a housewife.”

Little did I know she has been moonlighting as a torture expert for the CIA.

Punishing me is her favorite activity. My arms and legs have felt the hopeless defeat of “3 more” several times. My muscles have gotten to the point where I could not lift my arm or stand without feeling like my ass might fall off (one can only hope). She makes me laugh so hard when we do the ab work, I’m a useless Gumby by 15. Or um, 5.

During exercise, I hate her. I mean, I don’t hate her hate her, but Oh Em Gee she is tough. And she has no heart.

Last night she informed me we were getting to the end of our 12 sessions and I should purchase more sessions this week because her review is coming up so she will be more expensive after that because she’ll be a “Master.”

“Do I have to call you that? Master?” I asked.

She laughed, “No I’ll be a “Master Trainer.”

“Yes Master,” I teased. I made a few more Master jokes as we finished the weight machines and we went to the mats to do abs. Face up, I held her ankles and tried to kick her in the face do leglifts but she always won and pushed me down first.

Still making fun of her new title, we giggled like a couple of idiots through 45 32 21 8 leglifts before I asked her if I could call her Master Homie G In Da House.

She insisted. I’m totally going to buy her a giant clock to wear around her neck. Maybe it will weigh her head down low enough so I can kick her in the face.

Crossposted over at the Fabulous Mommybloggers Site!

February 19th Is Male PMS Day, FYI

February 21, 2008 SugarSpawn

The other day I took both kids to the grocery store and it was fairly busy.  We were shopping for the ingredients for chili and I was kind of in a rush but knew Thomas would rather walk then ride in the cart so I took a deep breath and tried to relax about the situation.

You see, I had promised Daren’s Grandmother I would make chili and bring it over that night, but they eat at 4:30 every night and it was already noon, so I was cutting it close since the chili takes 3 hours to make.

(I’ll post the recipe later - it is a baked chili and oh-so-yummy!)

Once in the store, Dylan wanted to deposit his allowance into the bank machine.  I waited off to the side while he put his cash in an envelope on the counter directly beside the bank machine.  He was about to step (it’s literally one step) over to the machine and this man barged in ahead of him.  He looked at me in defeat and I said, “Come here and stand in line Dylan and wait your turn AGAIN.  How RUDE.”

I put my arm around him and we waited in silence.

The man ignored my comment, never once looking up or acknowledging that he was a total douchenozzle for butting ahead of a 9 year old kid.

Whatever.  Life is too short, right?

Dylan took his turn at the machine, and we cruised the grocery store at toddler-speed, checking things off the list with me repeating “over here Thomas, come here Thomas,” a lot because 3 years old are like slack-jawed nomads in such a stimulating setting as the grocery store, and I’m quite fond of my slack-jawed nomad, don’t ya know.

I found myself enjoying this task with my kids, talking to them about whatever, and holding their hands a little.

In one of the aisles, Thomas got turned around and ended up standing beside some man’s cart.

“Mommy’s over here Thomas,” I said.  He looked up and realized where he was and came back to me, smiling.

The man looked at me and laughed.  I smiled at him, thinking he once had kids and he understood or he thought my kid was cute or whatever.

“Oh I’m not laughing with you,” he snarled, “I’m laughing AT you.”

“Uh..pardon me?” I asked.

He repeated himself and added, “I used to have some of those too.”

(those?  they aren’t plantar’s warts, they’re children, dickface.)

“Kids?” I asked.

“Yeah.  And thank God, they grew up and moved out.  Now I’m laughing at you because you’re still there.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this guy.  It’s like when I had Thomas and there was a woman on my ward who very clearly did not want her baby and she cried and screamed so much.  It was unnerving.  Strange.  Foreign.

“Well I love it, ” I smiled.

“No you don’t,” he challenged.

“Yes, I really do love being a Mom,”  I insisted.

“No you don’t,” He smirked.

I started to walk away, holding Thomas’ hand and placing Dylan’s on the cart in an effort to get away from this bitter man.

He called after me.  “You WAIT till they move out.  You’ll LOVE it when they are GONE.”

(okay crazy man, you can shut up now.  you’re scaring my kids.)

I was halfway across the store with the boys when Dylan asked, “What did that man mean?”

I explained what I thought the man meant, and told Dylan that I indeed loved being a Mom no matter what the man meant by his tirade.

“I know you do Mom.  You can tell the way your eyes go when you look at us.  All watery and sparkly.”

“Awww, that’s sweet honey,” I replied, putting my arm around his shoulders again.

He smiled up at me.  “That guy didn’t know anything.”

“Oh Dylan.  Maybe he just doesn’t know love.”

“Yeah well, he won’t ever know love with a heart like that.”

Wow.  9 years old and already so smart and perceptive.

I really do love being a Mom, and that caustic old man might not believe it, but he just drove the point home.

Censored

February 15, 2008 Sugarpants Herself!

Avitable wrote this post of ten things he wishes he could say (or should say) to people, and it got me thinking…

What do you wish you could say to someone?

Here’s mine:

1 ) If you could see what you have created through sober eyes, you’d be very proud.

2 ) You need to take responsibility for your actions and stop blaming others.

3 ) If you weren’t so freaking angry at the little things, you might see the amazing big things around you.

4 ) You need to appreciate your husband more. He loves you more than life and you treat him like total shit.

5 ) You are way too hard on your kids and I can see the pain in their eyes when you talk to them that way. I know you mean well, but they are so young.

6 ) You come off really creepy.

7 ) You expect too much from your friends and the reason they don’t come through for you is because you get angry that they don’t drop everything for you. Yet, when they need you? You’re not available. It works both ways.

8 ) Your kids are obnoxious and rude and I like you, but I CAN’T STAND THEM.

9 ) I can’t believe you’re so intelligent and sweet, and associate yourself with someone so narrow-minded and mean.

10 ) I love you and miss you SO much. I hope you are okay.

So what do you wish YOU could say?

Winner: Mama Had a Baby And Her Hair Fell Out

February 14, 2008 SimpleSugar

Thanks to everyone who participated in the contest to give my sister-in-law the best advice you had!

I’ll leave comments open in case more come along.

I used the Random Number Generator and came up with a winner, who had this tip to share:

Here’s something they rarely tell you before it happens(although I did find out beforehand in our Bradley class): Some time during the first year - it was at 7 months for me the first time, second time I was too busy to notice - YOUR HAIR WILL START FALLING OUT. It seems freaky even if you know it’s coming, and it seems like you will surely be bald if it keeps up, but it’s just the extra hair you didn’t know you were growing during pregnancy falling out. The hair loss is normal and you won’t go bald.

Congratulations to Violet the Verbose! Email me at karenrani AT gmail DOT com so I can send you your $50 bucks via Paypal!

I Wish I Had a Camera Right Now

February 13, 2008 SugarHubs, SugarPets, Sugarpants Family, Sugarpants Herself!

Tonight has been a comedy of errors. SugarHubs is out of town tonight, and has come in 1st in a poker tournament where he won a $600 coin which is a ‘buy-in’ for a larger tournament at the end of March. This ‘buy in’ affords him the chance to play against 124 other guys for a quarter of a million dollars. Totally cool, I know.

But I’m here. With two kids and two dogs.

The SugarSpawn had been sprinting from one extreme (playing loudly and screaming) to the other (fighting loudly and whining) and back again since the after school hour. They barely sat still for the dinner I made, starting by gobbling so fast and exclaiming how good it was to 4 seconds later of “We’re full, can we play Wii?”

At least Dylan read to Thomas tonight. The peace lasted long enough for MiniDog Miley to inhale a furball and choke on it. And choke and choke and choke on it.

I kept scooping up the dry heaving pup and transferring her from carpet to tile in the rec room, hoping for a positive outcome and gagging the whole time. Nothing was coming up but the noise made me really queasy.

You wish you were me at this point, right?

While shuttling The Pukey Little Puppy across the room, I lost sight of my sanity and allowed the offspring to get a little rowdy. Next thing I know they’re wound like little freakshows for the 47th time and I’m wishing I could pick them up by their heads and let their bodies jiggle below them like our characters on the Wii.

I snap out of my parenting fantasy as the MiniDog heaves up the most disgusting mound of GOD-KNOWS-WHAT on the carpet. Ugh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Thomas smack Dylan and just as quickly, Dylan smacks Thomas’ backside.

I glared at them both. “BED.”

“But he…”

“WE. DON’T HIT. IN. THIS. HOUSE. BED. NOW.”

Thomas was already up the stairs and gone and Dylan started to protest more only to be met with, “BED. DYLAN. NOW.”

He pounded up the stairs like a 15 year old girl. Sigh.

Yes I speak in staccato when I’m frustrated. If I don’t, I turn into the unlikable Yelly Mom. You might have heard of her.

Alone in the rec room, with puppy under my arm and a curious horse (Ruffy) sniffing the air, I crate the dogs so I can clean up.

*gag* *gag* *gag* *I wish I had a HAZMAT suit. *gag* *gag* *gag*

Feeling like I (desperately) need cool air on my face, I take the dogs out front for some fresh air. There’s more snow in the sky than oxygen, but the kids are in bed and it’s only 7:50. That’s kinda good. It’s peaceful outside as the snow falls in big fat flakes on my jacket and mitts.

I love the quiet of a new snowfall and tonight is no exception. It’s lovely.

Inside, back to Calm Mama, I kiss the kids goodnight and head downstairs.

I curl up in the recliner with my laptop and MiniDog jumps on to the footrest. She gently paws at my legs so I’ll open them, crawls between my knees and sticks her head under the laptop.

Yes, right into my crotch. She’s been sleeping there for 3 hours.

That’s why I wish I had a camera. Nothing would top this evening better if I could take a picture of my warm crotch for you.

Hey Mommies, May I Pick Your Brains?

February 6, 2008 Sugarpants Family

EDIT: Contest closes Wednesday, February 13th at Midnight, E.S.T.

My sister-in-law is about to have her first baby (a girl - yay!) and while she is very well read, and an intelligent woman with lots of support, I thought it would be cool to give her some advice the books don’t offer.

I was pretty honest with her about the first 3 weeks of breastfeeding being a challenge: the pain, the secret of nipple cream, and the fact that baby and mom are both in a learning curve. I told her the cotton, washable breast pads win out over the disposable ones that shift and keep the nipple too moist, inviting moisture.

I told her about Parent Hacks. (Hi Asha!)

Not wanting to overwhelm her with bossy tidbits that helped, I thought it would be cool if instead you shared some of your best tips.

As an incentive to you, I am going to give away $50 via Paypal to a random tipper.

The Rules? One tip per comment, enter as many times as you like. Now go forth and comment!

Is This Even Healthy?

February 4, 2008 Sugarpants Family, Sugarpants Herself!

Trying to multi-task like crazy today, I made a blended shake that should give me everything I need:

• 1 cup of milk
• 4 ice cubes
• a scoop of vanilla protein powder
• a dollop of peanut butter
• a smidge of chocolate syrup
• a large banana
• a couple of spoons of that fibre crap

The taste isn’t too bad, I guess. I’m just trying to ensure I get my protein and fibre while minimizing the fat content, blah blah blah.

Trust me, the peanut butter and chocolate syrup were both necessary. If I wanted to really punish myself, I’d just blend up some drywall.

Did you see that? What was that?

Ohhhh it was the weekend whooshing by.  This past weekend was insanity.

I worked like a total dog last week and Friday night could not have come soon enough. Daren took me to The Keg for dinner and then to see Juno, which was awesome. Ellen Page was wonderful and she’s Canadian! The step-mother in the movie totally cracked us up, especially when she tells off the ultrasound technician.

Saturday we cleaned and shopped and cooked up a storm for Daren’s Grandma’s 89th birthday. We had his whole family over and we gave Grandma The Time Traveler’s Wife and Water For Elephants, as per your recommendations. I bought the latter for myself a while ago but haven’t started it yet. Daren made stuffed chicken breasts but since his Grandma doesn’t like mushrooms, he made one for her without them and then forgot which one it was and practically had to take the butcher’s twine off every one.

Yesterday was triple-insane.

Yesterday I had an appointment with my trainer. I started going to the gym again January 29th after they kissed my butt and gave me 6 free trainer sessions on top of the 6 they owed me.

Sweet! I lost 4 pounds.

I had to rush home from there and do my hair and make-up for my sister-in-laws baby shower. It was a lovely shower and she got some of the coolest things - just since Thomas was born there’s new stuff that has been invented, like this Boon bath toy holder and Hotsling.  Shopping for a baby girl was so much fun though.  I went kinda practical and bought her stuff like baby wash, baby lotion, gripe water and nipple cream, a bunch of pink clothes and put them all in a magazine rack that has a handle so she can fill the rack with diapers and wipes to keep downstairs with her rather than running the stairs with the baby every half hour to change fifty bazillion diapers.

After the shower, as we went to leave, I couldn’t find my boots.  My favorite, Nine West, gorgeous black leather ankle boots were missing.  Strangely, there was a similar pair there and lo and behold, we tracked mine down hours later.  A friend of a friend of family had worn mine home instead of her own.   I don’t even know how that happens.  We’re at least a size apart too - her boots were larger than mine.  If mine come back stretched, I’m not going to be happy.

We went back to Daren’s parents place for Superbowl and had so much fun just visiting and hanging out with friends and family.  It was a really good weekend but boy it went fast.

Still no word on the buyers selling their house.  They have until February 8th and if it doesn’t sell by then, we’ll give them an extension.  That is, if they don’t back out.  I’m getting really frustrated with this whole situation and driving Daren mental.  I just want to get on with our lives already!  We’ve settled on a plan for the house now, got our lot…and so we wait.

Overheard at 7 a.m. This Morning

SugarSpawn

“Mylie!  Stop! Licking! My! Hands!  You can’t EAT THEM!  My little hands won’t fit in your tummy.”

Then, muttering…  “Dumb dog.”