Best. Comment. Ever.

While my dad was here visiting, we were talking of cartoons that we used to watch.  I looked at Mr. Delusional, who was politely following the conversation, but not having grown up here, was at a loss as to most of what we were talking about.

"Oh, poor Mr. Delusional, did you watch any English cartoons?" I ask, patting his knee in sympathy.
Iman giggles and says, "Not my dad, he's so old he only had rocks and dirt to play with when he was a kid!"

Yes...my husband is as old as dirt.

I could have told you that.

I saw a story on the news a few weeks ago talking about how whining is the most annoying sound. Ever.  Did they really need a scientists to confirm this?  I think that mothers all around the world read that article and said, "well, duh."

In case anyone in my city doubted it - I decided to take my kids grocery shopping with me.

Well, no - I didn't actually decide to do that.  Fate did.  Mr. Delusional was out on some family business...and I ... well, I needed groceries.  My kids had been playing outside in the heat all day, and have been either fighting off or getting over a summer flu.  In other words; they were in "a mood."

The whining started before I even left the house.
"he hit me!"
"I did not, she pinched me!"
"No I didn't, he looked at me!!"


Yeah...that's not an exaggeration of what happened at all.

Then we got there.  There was a fight about who was going to push the cart.  There was a fight about what kind of eggos to get.  There was Adam trying to nab all the stuff off of the shelf and then pouting when I refused to buy Corn Pops.

When we finally got to the checkout - I was more than frazzled...this is when the kids start asking me for all the things that they know that they can't have.
"Can we have a chocolate bar?"
"No."
 "How about gum?"
"No."
"Tic-tacs?"
"No."

Then I look up to see that while arguing with the kids about this junk...Adam has decided that he needed to catch up on the Kardashians and is happily flipping through a tabloid magazine.  I shake my head but think to myself, at least he's occupied and quiet, and I go on putting my items onto the till...then I hear a rip and see that Adam has torn one of the pages of the magazine.

I quietly meltdown.
My kids sense the impending doom.
They suddenly all become quiet and helpful.
The ride home is silent.

Then we get home.

There is the chaos that ensues in just getting out of the car.  Apparently it's too much to ask a 7 year old to help his 3 year old brother out of the car.  There is shouting, pinching, crying, slapping. Meanwhile, Iman is standing there barking orders to the boys, and I'm trying to be the Incredible Grocery Carrier and have 5 bags hanging off of each arm and shout "Would someone get the door??"

Then I realize that the neighbors are all out enjoying their peaceful evening.  *crickets and judgmental stares*

Eventually, I get the groceries in, the kids in and my temper under control.

Now, I wait for them to sleep.

I'm back, did ya miss me?

So, I've been back from Mexico now for long enough that my brain has had a chance to absorb all the things that I saw there (some good, some not so good) -- don't worry, I've still got more to write on my Mexico Blog  but I have homework and kids and life to deal with first.

Which brings me to my post.  Apparently I was missed.  Poor Mr. Delusional has come to the realization that I do a lot more than he thought I did (I don't even want to know what he thought).  On Saturday, I was blissfully sleeping in and he did a load of laundry *gasp* -- sure, he messed up my routine, but I forgave him.  The kids were making their own lunches all week Adam has started weaning himself from his blanket...I feel like somehow I missed out on a whole lot while I was gone.

Things were back to normal pretty quickly though. Iman and Isaac were squabbling, Adam getting into things he shouldn't and me stuck doing all those chores that I really hate - like grocery shopping.  On Mother's Day.  Woot. Woot.

Not much else happened for me on Mother's Day - I got a home-made card from Isaac, spent some quality time with Iman, and visited with friends.  At bed time, as I snuggled with Adam, he kissed me on the cheek then sat there rubbing it for a bit.  "What are you doing?" I asked.  "Rubbing my love in so that it reaches your heart." he said.

Best. Mother's Day. EVER.

(Oh - a post script to my own mom - There is an entire post developing in my brain - dedicated to you and your awesomeness.  I can never thank you enough for everything you've done.  Love you.)

What Next?

So, as if my life hasn't been stressful enough lately - with my last class forcing me to look within myself to places I'm not really comfortable going and then talking about it in a public forum (sort of -- it was for all my classmates to read).  Then the cost of this Mexico Practicum just keeps skyrocketing (passport fees, immunizations, travel insurance, etc) I hadn't really planned on these additional expenses....Then, to top off the list of monetary woes, my bursary for school ended...2 weeks before the new course was up to be paid.  :(  Ahh...such is life.

Then there are the issues around the house - the leaky sink (now fixed) and the broken dishwasher (still broken) which means that I'm still doing dishes by hand.  This breaks my heart....and wears away my skin.  No kidding here folks.  Check it out -- those are the fingers of Yours Truly, and the skin is literally sloughing off.  It's a very unpleasant feeling.  I tried doing a home hand treatment that I have called Instant Manicure, when that didn't work I tried another one that I'd forgotten I'd bought but discovered way back in my drawer BeautiControl Paraffin Treatment (no, this isn't a Beauticontrol ad, I swear!) Anyhow - that one worked a bit, but it's still bugging me.  If you have suggestions on how to fix this, please let me know (it's only on my hand that holds the sponge...weird huh?)

So, as if all of this wasn't enough, on Friday, Isaac started complaining about his sore throat - again.  This is the eighth time he's had tonsil issues in the last year.  It's frustrating...I tried putting it off, hoping against hope that it would go away - it didn't.  Then, this morning when Adam woke up he had spots all over him.  Big, red, itchy spots.  My mind instantly went to the irrational Bed Bug paranoia that I have.  I tried to brush it off, but by supper time, the spots started developing little rings around them...not a good sign!  So off to the doctor we trudged...Isaac indeed has tosillitus, and Adam?  He's got chickenpox.  Yeah...chickenpox.

What's coming next?  I only have 4 days left before I leave - please, dear God, please let them go smoothly!!

I got an idea!!

That's what I hear a lot now these days.  Whether it's from Adam and his chosen brother, "Hey, I got an idea...let's build a tower with the lego!" (and there's always such genuine enthusiasm when they say it) - or my older ones who have some crazy ideas....it's a common phrase these days.

Last night, while cleaning up from supper, I hear my lovely daughter say, "Hey, I got an idea and it won't even hurt......well, it might hurt a little bit, but it's gonna be so cool!"

Needless to say, I dropped what I was doing and rushed into the living room where I see Iman trying to convince Isaac to let her hold him with his stomach on her head while she spun him around - she called it a Human Helicopter.

sticky eyeball toy

When that idea was put far, far out of everyone's mind (and hopefully, but not likely out of existence) we sat down to a nice bedtime snack of Oreos and milk.

Today, Isaac comes home from school and he's gotten a ball as a prize for some reason that I don't understand.  Anyhow - this wasn't a bouncy ball, it was a sticky ball -- remember those sticky hands things we had as kids?  Or maybe the sticky octopuses that you'd whip at the wall and they'd creep their way down?  Yeah, it's that kind of material -- only it looks like an eyeball.  It's a little creepy, but right up Isaac's alley.

So, he's been playing with it all day long: showing the daycare kids that he can "defy gravity" because it sticks to his hand...or trying to toss it from one hand to another....you get the idea.

After supper, he decides that he needs to wash his sticky eyeball ball...he does - and is thrilled that it was even stickier than before.  He decides to throw it up...high...and of course, it gets stuck to the ceiling.

I hear trills of giggles and laughter - and then a "You need to tell mom!"
"no, you tell her!"
"no, you threw it, YOU tell her!"


after a bit of a pause and probably more fighting back and forth that I couldn't hear, Isaac pipes up with: "Mo-om...My eye is stuck to the ceiling!"


Mr. Delusional came to the rescue - he lifted Adam up to the ceiling where he reached up and pulled ... and pulled ... and pulled -- that stupid sticky eyeball must have stretched a good 4 inches before it finally came off.

And that, my friends, is a glimpse into the craziness that I encounter in my daily life.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is my anniversary - Mr. Delusional and I have shared a whopping 13 years together.  We are both still alive, and neither one of us are in jail, so I consider this marriage to be a success.  I must let it be known that I'm not a fancy, frilly, girly-girl type of person (shocking, I know!)  I don't particularly care for flowers, I don't like having to dress up (jeans and sneakers are my preferred choices), and I'm not big on romance...I'd rather just cut to the chase than go through all the wooing and swooning.  I guess I'm more like a man than a woman... cest la vie.

So, with that little tid-bit about me - let me just take you down memory lane, dear readers - to the evening of my marriage proposal.

*insert groovy music as we time warp back 13 years and a few months*

Mr. Delusional and I had been spending long hours together talking about all things that really make my heart melt - politics, religion, culture (hey, I've got a scientific mind, not a Harlequin Romance one - these are the things I adore!) Anyhow, a lot of this time was spent talking over the 10 cent hot wings at Boston Pizza (the romance continues)...

...So, one day we were sitting there in BPs waiting for our wings to come, when Mr. Delusional reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring box.  The lady at the table next to us did one of those ultra fem *gasp* things with her hand fluttering around her throat and her lady companion turns and quietly says, "Aweeeeee!"

However, it didn't go down the way that they thought it would.   There was no getting on the knee, there was no taking of my hand and saying "Hethr, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" nope...I wouldn't have had that anyhow...instead this happened:

Mr. Delusional sorta tossed the ring box on the table and said, "So....you wanna do this thing or what?"

The ladies at the table next to us choked on their own disbelief as they saw me light up and say, "Hell yeah!"

And thus, began my life with my man.  Unorthodox and uncouth...but I wouldn't have it any other way!

A Festivus Friday Vent

My girlfriend Magz, had a facebook status this morning bragging about  rubbing in  talking about how wonderful her day was going and it wasn't even 8 in the morning.  Because I hadn't yet had my morning coffee, I was in a delusional haze and decided to comment about how my day was also going stupendously.

What an idiot I can be!

Why would I think that I could talk about how great my children were behaving?  Not 20 minutes after writing that little tidbit, they started fighting.  All I hear is, "Don't touch me....give it....stop looking at me....you're bugging me..." (need I go on?)  Also, for some reason, Adam has decided that instead of using words today, he'd much rather just put on the whine.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but whining is one sure way to drive me directly to the loony bin.  I hate it.  I feel myself turning into Gargamel.  It's horrible - but there's nothing that I can do about it.  Me + Whining Children = The nastiest thing you will ever see.

So, combine this nasty freak of nature with my moody husband and I tell you, it was nearly the start of World War III here.  Can you believe all this because I asked him to be quiet during nap time?  (no, conscience, I don't think that the readers need to know that I over reacted to his obnoxious antics and said "If you wake up the children I'll kill you!!!" why would that have any affect on the support my lovely readers have for me??)

So now I'm sitting here, stubborn and angry and just wanting someone (Mr. Delusional) to bring me flowers and say sorry (even though I should be the one apologizing).

The Trouble with my Man

Unless you live under a rock or don't follow me on Facebook, you'll know that Mr. Delusional hurt his leg the other day....here's the story.

A few years ago, we had a bit of a flood in the house.  It ruined the floor and furniture, so we got new stuff.  The new stuff included what I like to call "the one-ton coffee table."  Now, of course the table doesn't quite weigh a ton...but it's built of very, very solid wood and has big old glass panels (and drawers too)...If I had to guess, I'd say the thing weighs a good 80+ pounds.  It's so heavy that I dread it when the kids eat popcorn or something, because it means that I have to drag the thing out of place to vacuum underneath it, and then put it back.  It's heavy.

So, fast forward to Friday.  I'm happily doing a little bit of homework okay then...doing some curriculum research....okay fine - playing on Facebook while the kids were napping.  Mr. Delusional was getting ready for work and came into the room to put his laptop away (on the end table).  He came into the room rather briskly - and as he walked towards the end table, he swung his leg and smacked his knee into the corner of "the one-ton table."

Okay, there was  not nearly enough gasping and sympathy from you all.  So let me clarify a little...he hit the table so hard that he moved the one-ton table.  Yup, it lifted up out of the grooves that it had developed into the carpet and over by a few inches.

There's still not enough sympathy folks.

He hit that table hard; a direct hit on the knee cap to the very corner of the table.  In fact, he hit the table so hard that he took the black off of his pants.  No lies peeps...what I thought was maybe something transfered from the table to his pants is in fact a section of pant where the dye has been removed.  It's a little 1 inch bar of white against the black of his pants.

He had instant swelling -- not a whole lot around the knee itself, but definitely on the knee cap.  He swore up a streak...and seeing him in so much pain almost made me cry.  After he calmed down a bit, he took an Advil and hobbled into work.  I called him a couple of times to check on him, until he said "Please don't talk to me about it anymore, I can't think about it!"


Yup...he was in pain.  But, he was also a man - which meant he wasn't going to the hospital unless a piece of bone was sticking through the skin.

He worked his full shift, came home and iced it (it was still swollen and by then it was hot and swollen to about 3 inches above his knee cap) took another Advil and went to bed.  The next day, he couldn't bend it.  But he still went to work.  His excuse was "it's the long weekend, I can't ask another manager to come in on the long weekend because I hurt my knee."  He did the icing and Advil again when he got home.


*sigh*

He worked again on Sunday and told me that he'd go to the hospital that night.  For whatever reason, he didn't leave the store until 8, and then felt it was too late to go to the hospital, to which I lovingly replied, "Fine then!  If you're too stubborn to go to the hospital, don't come hobbling to me when you have to have it amputated!"  Yup...shining moment for me right there!  I still helped him with the ice and elevation and all that.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that he was unable to get dressed/undressed on his own for the last few days.  I did that for him, too -- cause I'm an awesome wife that way...except for threatening him with amputation that is.

On Monday, I get a phone call from him around the time I'm expecting him home.  He's at the hospital!  Hurrah!!  The doctors looked at it, x-rayed it and came up with this: "you've likely got a hairline fracture of the kneecap - these things don't show up well on an x-ray, so just continue to do what you're doing." (meaning the icing and Advil).  

Don't these guys know anything?  How can you tell a man like my husband something like that?  Do you know what that means?  The next time something happens to him he won't go to the hospital.  He'll just put it off and put it off....and then you know what I'll be stuck with?  Him, hurt beyond what is necessary because he's just too stubborn to go.

chips off the old block

Just a sample of my life.

Today, while cleaning up supper dishes - I was happily singing "Shiny Happy People" (does anyone remember that song??)  After a few verses, Adam looks at me and says, "Stop singing or I'm gonna puke!"


Later on, while having a conversation with my daughter who wants to be an adult so that she can "boss her kids around" (which I do NOT do, for what it's worth!) - she says to me, "I'm not bossy, I just have better ideas!"

Oh my....I love these kids.

Momtuition strikes again!

You know how you have that "momtuition" that lets you know when something's just not right with your kid?  Well, it was blaring at me this morning.  I woke up, cleaned up my daycare room - and it stayed clean.  That was sign number 1.  Adam didn't have breakfast, that was sign number 2.  We went out to the mosque, and as per usual, stopped by Tim Horton's for coffee and doughnuts (hot chocolate for the kids) after prayer.  Adam didn't touch is doughnut (sign 3), didn't freak when we cut it in half and split it between Iman and Isaac (sign 4) and only drank about half of his hot chocolate (sign 5).  We're driving in the car and Moe had to stop at Home Depot -- I say "Adam's sleeping, I'll just wait in here with him." -- 15 minutes later, Moe gets out and we head for home.  Less than 5 minutes from the house - Adam wakes up spewing vomit all over the back seat.  All over himself, the carseat, the floor and his sister.  It was N-A-S-T-Y.

I should mention that the weather here right now is in the -30s.  Before we could get through the intersection, the sudden rise in the humidity level of the car causes the inside of the windows to go foggy.  We are driving with the windows open and our fingers plugging our noses, Adam is wailing and freaking out because he's got puke on his mitten, Iman is valiantly trying not to gag as she tries to ignore the bits of vomit on her jacket, legs and boots...and Isaac was playing his DSi.

We get home and go into full "family team" mode - Moe takes the puke-covered Adam out of the care and into the house to get cleaned up, Iman organizes a pile of "this stuff's been puked on" for me to put into the wash - and Isaac hauls in the bags of "rescued items" and my purse.  Meanwhile - I run and grab some Mr. Clean and a spray bottle and go back to the car -- I see that there are two good things that have happened.  1. 90% of the puke is on the carseat itself, 2, most of the rest is on the floor mat of the back seat -- this is good as both can be pulled out and washed.

However, there is bad in this too -- You see - taking out a carseat that has just been covered in what seems like 2 liters of vomit is tricky -- it leaks and spills out of little crevices that you don't even know are there.  Thank GOD for leather seats!  Also -- trying to wipe down things like this when it's -30 outside is next to impossible -- the spray is frozen before it even hits the acquired targets!  Once it lands, you've essentially got a Mr. Clean slushie to clean up with.

Then comes the carseat itself -- trying to take the cover off of the carseat and attempting to recall how you did it way back in the day when he was just a baby (also - suddenly realizing how big he's gotten that there's only another 1 1/2 years left on the seat itself) - wow.  I finally remember where I stuffed the manual for it - go about unhooking little elastics from places that only elves and fairys could possibly have placed them, and try not to gag as the scent of curdled hot chocolate wafts up to me at every moment.

In the end - the car seat was cleaned, so was the car.  Poor Adam was sick all night long and still showing signs of it today -- gotta love flu season.

The Dishwasher Bandit strikes again!

Yup, it was almost a year ago that I had issues with my dishwasher that my wonderful husband tore my dishwasher to bits and fixed it.  This time, only the dishes on the top rack weren't coming out clean. I figured that it was blocked by bits of corn or something (why is it that corn doesn't get mashed to bits in the little garburator?  What's so magical about corn?  Mind you, it does come out of a human looking much the same as it goes in, doesn't it?)

Well, after days of nagging that finally ended in threats asking politely hubby finally listened took it upon himself to fix it.  Out came the racks, the spinner blade thing (yes, I'm very technical, aren't I?) and other bits and bobs to look for the offending blockage.  It only occurs to me now that I should have taken pictures.  Oh well...I'm sure that there will be a next time.

First thing that we find is a pen for a DSi.  For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about, a Nintendo DSi  is a little gaming system (think Gameboy, only modern) -- they have these stupid little stylus/pens that get lost all the time.  I think that this is how Nintendo makes it's money... Anyhow -- first we find a white stylus...then a few date pits...and olive pit or two, a red stylus...Donatello's mangled forearm...and finally a black stylus.

So, as hubby pulls each item out - he's grumbling louder and louder.  After retrieving the last stylus, he shouts, "Who put these things in here?"  To which Adam excitedly replies "Oh, Me, Me!  I did it, daddy!!"

Please don't ask me how these items got into my dishwasher without me noticing.  I have no idea myself, and quite frankly, I don't pay all that much attention to the inside of it.  I just load it and turn it on.  Silly me, forgetting that I have the modern equivalent of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes running amok in my house -- I should know better than to assume that things will be running "normal" in my house.

a week with my toddler - Update

Just some of the things that I go through in a week with my lovely, spirited, wild child.

Monday, after a really tough day, he came up to me saying "mommy help, boogie" which as you may have figured out -- he needed a Kleenex.  So, I sigh, grab one and tell him to blow.  He gives it a couple good shots and then I see it.  It's not a boogie in his nose...it was a wadded up gum wrapper.  He'd balled it up and, for some reason that I cannot begin to fathom, shoved it up his nose to live there for a while.  I know it's been a while, considering that the last time that we'd had any gum was on the Friday before.  Nice.

Tuesday, I was still in a bit of a funk, but Adam didn't seem to care.  Rather, he'd discovered a tear in my couch (along the top, behind where the back rest cushion is) -- apparently, this was fantastic, because he proceeded to dump his bin of dinky cars in there.  One by one.  I thought that he was lining them up on the back there...it wasn't until he said "Oh...Crash!" that I was alerted to his game.  Out of a bin of 200 dinky cars (yes, I know there are 200 there, possibly more), I didn't find out his dastardly scheme until there were only about 50 left.  I was left with the decision to leave my couch full of cars, or cut the bottom dust cover thing off to rescue them.  I still haven't decided what to do - the cars are in a "mom limbo" at the moment.

Wednesday we had an invite to the school.  They were doing a Welcome Back BBQ.  We went for burgers and cake -- and of course, got to tour the class rooms and meet the teachers.  While I was busy chatting up the teachers, Adam ran along from desk to desk, filing his pockets with crayons and erasers from the children in my son's classroom.  Sweet.  I get to send Isaac to school the next day with other people's possessions and a shameful note of explanation.

Thursday I realized that I wasn't down in the dumps because I'd been in a funk, nope, it was my body prepping me for the inevitable - the first cold of winter (and yes, I can sadly say that winter has arrived.  It snowed here.  Not in my city, but so close to it that you may as well say it was here...and it didn't stay, but still - we don't usually get those snows until mid-late October, and the snow doesn't usually start staying around until mid-November or so)  Anyhow - I was feeling sick, and because I'm a great mom when I'm sick, I wasn't about to cook my kids a meal.  It was an "eat your left over lunch, pick a cereal or starve" kinda deal.  My daughter figures that she'll be a great help and make popcorn for supper.  I lay on the couch in misery while they munched away downstairs.  Adam spilled his bowl, and rather than pick it up, he stepped on it, crushed it to bits and then pushed it under the couch.  My wonderful daughter decided to vacuum it up for me.  She's sweet that way.

Friday has just started, but he's already into a very "toddler" mood of Everything-That-I-See-Is-Mine.  I'm praying to make it to nap time - by which time, Grandma should be here to save the day.






Update 1  (yes, I'm leaving this open...I've still got a good 2 or 3 hours left before bedtime)- today (Friday), my sons' newly painted bedroom got a bit of a face lift by a graffiti artist who goes by the name of Little Adam.  And by "a bit", I mean, the entire length of a single bed from as low as he could reach to as high as he could.  He also did it in about 1.3 minutes flat.  With three adults in the home and only two children here for me to watch (including the artist himself), I'm still not sure how that happened.

It's that time again...

Yes, it's time again for another post about my mom and her awesomeness. I love my mom (and you'll see I mention that clearly in the last "I love my mom" post)

Okay -- so this time, my mom took my kids for the weekend again -- back to the camping spot - but this time, there were no cat tails to bring home and no freak outs over fuzzies in the bathroom.

Nope, she decided to give me a present for finishing school (well, I'm almost done, it counts!!) -- she bought me pyjamas -- Dr. Seuss pajamas to be precise.  I am in love with the good doctor.  Yup, I have a secret little fantasy of the cat in the hat visiting me.  I have dreams of Seussical proportions...yes...I'm odd, but can you imagine that?  I dream in Dr. Seuss!!!  My phone message, for goodness sake, is inspired by Seuss...

So, the pj's were lovely.  I planned on actually wearing the top as a shirt (it's just a v neck t-shirt) and perhaps giving the boxer shorts to my son/daughter.

Yesterday, I pull the thing out of the bag, rip the tag off in elation and....squeeze myself into it.

I wonder if I'm getting fatter or if fashions are getting slimmer.  Oh well, I'm happily wearing my "One fish, Two fish" shirt and as long as I don't breath, I'm okay, right??

Later in the night, I go to show my husband the cute little outfit mom got me.  I  tried to put on the boxers that came with it.  Did you read that right?  I tried.  I could barely pull them up over my hips (yes, I have what my aunt calls "birthing hips" but still -- these were TIGHT!) They were so tight that they ended up turning into what most might call "booty shorts" -- I was scared to pass gas, I thought I might injure myself!

Hubby, very smartly, says not a word.

I peel the pants off and dig through my garbage can for the tag.

Size SMALL.

Now -- I'd like to think that my mom thinks that I'm that small....but a part of me knows that my mother is well aware that I'm not.  I'm lucky, extremely lucky if I can get away with a medium (especially over those birthing hips!) and usually buy a large to feel comfortable.  But a SMALL??  Really, mom??

I'm guessing that mom was so excited about buying me Seuss jammies that she just dug through until she found a pair that she thought I'd like and didn't even look at the tag.  That's it, right mom??  Because if she bought me these things to inspire me to get back on the Shred Bandwagon -- well...that worked, too.

Le Sigh

Well, life with my toddler will never cease to amaze me.  He is sweet and fun and mischievous and frustrating all at once.  Here -- take a glimpse into my life lately:

• He went for a "walk" to go see his grandmother without me or hubby knowing.  He was 5 houses away before a neighbor caught him.
• He sneaks sips from my coffee (or dads, or whoever leaves theirs unattended for too long)
• He's now fascinated with bras and wants to wear them all the time.
• My bed = his bed.  When I tried to tell him different, he told me to go sleep in his (toddler) bed.
• He attempts to eat dirt/sand DAILY.  He doesn't get the whole "mud pie" thing.
• He takes off his own diaper now -- usually when it's full of poop.
• He has "shampooed" with Vagisil.
• He pretends to shave his legs with his dinky cars.
• He can be out the door/in the cupboard/wherever he knows he shouldn't be before you can blink.  Seriously - I think that he's got mutant speedy abilities.

That's it for now -- it's nap time here (as close as it can get to relaxing with the above child resting and not sleeping) and I need to get on to chapter 7 of the book.

Festivus Friday again!

I have been holding back and waiting all week long for this post! I'm also trying out a new font...so let me know if it looks any better than the older posts...I don't really like the way the old font looks on my background.

Anyhoo -- I've got a bunch of grievances to air...so without delay:

1.  whoever is tossing their garbage into my back yard.  It's GROSS.  Stop.  It's not a lot, but I have better things to do that pick up your chocolate bar wrappers and slurpee cups.  My guess is that you are a wickedly cool teenager.  Feel free to use my garbage can or I'll call the cops on you for littering.
 
2.  People who come to comment on a post in my blog just to post a link to theirs.  It's rude.  Seriously...some dingbat came and posted on my last Festivus Friday rant "nice post" with a link back to his/her blog.  Come on!  "nice post" -- Is that the best you can do?  Did you even read it??  I don't mind, really, if this person really read the post and said that...fine...but something tells me that it was just a comment-and-run to spread their crappy wears.  I refuse to click on their link.  Comment folks, I like it...even if you don't agree with me, but put a little thought into it, okay??

3.  Potty training.  Ugh...we are potty training my son.  One day, he'll do fabulous the next day I'm cleaning up puddles like crazy.  Just another reminder straight from God that I'm done with having kids. 

4.  The rain -- We had a long, hot, dry summer last year...and we seem to be making up for it now.  I'm sick of it though.  A little sun would be nice.

5.  My procrastinating.  I have a pretty major assignment due on Sunday.  Guess how much I have started.  NOTHING.  Yet, I blog.  *le sigh*

6.  He who shall not be named -- let's just say that I wasn't feeling well this week and asked someone who doesn't like me talking about him online to watch my toddler.  Well, somehow, while I was napping, toddler got into nailpolish -- all over my daughter's DSi, and all over his face (including his eyelashes which are now stuck together and pearly white)  I just don't get it.

7.  Laundry.  Even with the schedule of schedules -- I hate laundry.  I'd rather burn it and buy new.

And...I think I'm done.  Wow...I feel better already! 

The battery saga continues...

So -- if you didn't read it, my son ate a battery.  That's right...he ate a battery.  You can read the story behind this whole thing here, but I will go on with the current situation.

We are now almost 1 week to the hour (in a few hours) of "the incident" and there is still no sign of this stinkin' thing (no pun intended).  I have been searching poopy diapers for what seems like an eternity.

Perhaps I've missed it.  Perhaps that silly button battery (which was the size of a tablet of asprin) made it's way out the back door incognito.  Who knows?  The only way to find out for sure is to do another xray (or ultrasound).

The saddest part of this whole thing??  My little guy is slightly lactose intolerant...too much milk will give him the runs.  So, as a wonderful mother, what have I been doing?  Giving him milk to drink, yogurt for a snack and cereal for breakfasts....every day.  Do you know what lactose intolerant poops smell like??  *shudder*  This is some scary stuff...I deserve a medal for it...but have I gotten it yet?? Nope, the little award has either decided to camp out in his intestines for a bit, or has sneakily made it past my best efforts to spot him.  Damn 007 battery!

Anyhow -- the phone rang today (during nap time...eye twitch!!) -- and who was it??  The Poison Control Center...calling to see if I've spotted it!  I tell them (and even admitted to the extra milk thing) -- he laughs and says, "yeah, well...batteries have been known to take as long as 14 days to pass"

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. --- fourteen days?!?!

How is that even possible?  How can someone have something in their intestines for that long without it moving along with the rest of the...uh...stuff???  This kid has been having 2 movements a day, and I'm supposed to wait until day 14??  Insane!

Anyhow -- that's it for now.  Should it show...I'll let you all know (cause I know you're all as anxious as I am!)

Little Admirers

Okay, I have an issue.  My daughter is only 9.  In fact, she just turned 9.  She's fun, she's nice (when she's not bothering her brother) and she's pretty.  She's a great little gal and I'm proud of her.

But - there is a dark side to this lovely little story.  BOYS.

Yup, my 9 year old daughter who is only in grade 3 has boys following her around like she's Cleopatra or something.  It's a little scary.  It started with a cute little thing at school -- he gave her a cookie, then a little kinder toy (not the chocolate, just the toy), then the other boys started one-upping him.  She was getting little pet shop pets that were stolen from sister's rooms, hairbands, earring, necklaces (all dollar store pieces, but still!).  It got to the point that I had to call the teacher.  #1, I don't want my daughter to start using this to her advantage, #2, I don't want some parents hard earned money to be going to my kid when it shouldn't be.

So -- all was good for a while.

Then...they started following her home.  Why this creeps me out is beyond me, but they follow her home and then sit outside our house for hours waiting to spot a glimpse of her.  Isn't that a little Silence of the Lambs to you?

Freaky.

So -- I put a stop to that. Told them that if they wanted to come over to play with her, that was fine, but that they needed their parent's permission first, AND it could only be on a weekend (hey -- I deal with kids all day long, I don't need even more!)

Now -- it's phone calls.  I didn't think I'd have to be dealing with this so early.  But they're phoning.  They call, and it's usually (from what i can hear on my end) "hi, what are you doing? Do you want to play at lunch/recess tomorrow?  Okay, bye."

But there's one little freak-o-rama out there who calls to serenade her.  I was busy dealing with the kids and the little man calls and she goes off to talk.  Kids leave, supper's ready and I'm like, "where's my daughter?"  She'd been on the phone for an HOUR with this kid!  An Hour!!  She's on her bed, the phone's on speaker and I hear him singing this:

"I'm gonna...KILL the bugs
KILL the bugs.
Squish them all right dead.

I'm gonna...KILL the bugs,
KILL the bugs,
Keep them from your head..."

Yeah...you're thinking what I'm thinking.

So -- daughter's sitting there on her bed mouthing to me "I don't know how to make him shut up!"  I just about peed my pants after the initial shock of it all.  I ended up saying "supper time" and she quickly told him she had to go.  Now when he phones, she begs me not to answer.

But -- the creepiness is not over yet folks, no...he will phone...and phone...and phone.  Last time, in a 10 minute window - he called us 8 times.

Dude -- you're little crush is cute, but I'm ready to call the cops at this point.

Meanwhile, my daughter now cringes when the phone rings.  How sad is that?  Why can't people control their kids?  I mean...when my kids want to phone someone, I'm in the room with them.  In my opinion, it's no different than allowing them online alone.  How am I supposed to know what's going on if I'm not there to eavesdrop  listen in... er... keep them safe?  How do parents not know where their child is for so long (with those boys hanging out at my place from about 4 to 7pm)  That's just wrong to me!

What's worse -- why don't these parents teach their children some manners and respect???  I just don't get it.  I hope that when my kids grow up, they're able to marry someone who also had parents that taught morals and common sense.

Disney Channel Rant

So, as I'm waiting for my little red light on my reader to change to green (I told you, the battery was DEAD!!)  I'm sitting in the same room as my children who are playing together like a little flock of angels.

Oh..who am I kidding?  They're fighting and getting into things that they shouldn't be.

However...my daughter is trying to watch TV.  She's old enough that the baby television shows (which Isaac would still watch, but won't admit to liking), but young enough to think that the majority of the crap that's out there is good TV viewing (and, admittedly, I may have a skewed opinion on this...as a person who enjoys things like The First 48 and LOST or just about anything on Discovery Channel).  However, Iman's current TV viewing habits have me more than a little perplexed.

You see, since I'm surrounded by children all day long, I tend to know a lot of the kids shows.  I've had posts before about children's shows that I hate yet I had not been introduced to a whole new type of show; they're geared towards tweens and they SUCK...I mean, horrible!

First of all, there's Hannah Montanna (or, as she's lovingly referred to in my home, Hannah Moncrappy).  I. Hate. This. Show.

Why? Well, thank you so much for asking...let me just clarify the many reasons for this pure hatred of all things Hannah:

1. The acting, like almost every other tween show, is pathetic.
2. The writing, like almost every other tween show, is pathetic.
3. The idea...the main idea of the show...is just wrong!  Why...why do they have to all be about being a rockstar?  Why do they have to be rich and famous?  Why do they have to wear trashy clothes and bat their eyes and act like fools around a) boys, and b) large groups of girls?
4. I won't buy into Hannah Montanna -- not the theory of it, not the pathetically materialism of it, not the "I'm going to dress my 9 year old like a wannabe hooker.  Nope. Not happening people!  In fact, I groomed Iman well.  I remember, when we were shopping for grade 1 clothing and I was shocked that we went from pretty little girl clothes, to Hannah Montana inspired trash.  A sales woman at Walmart was helping us (yes...it's true...they do have staff there!) and said "well, the Hannah Montana line is really popular"  and Iman, at 6 years old, looked up to her and said "Uh...we don't support the Hannah Montana empire." 

Next comes  The Suite Life of Zack and Cody  I hate this show for all the same reasons that I hate Hannah...except this one's worse.  It's filled with snotty rich kids.  There's twins (*shudder* -- I'm reminded of the damn Olsen twins off of Full House).  Yup...snooty twins who are terrible actors...except these ones are boys.

There's The Wizards of Waverly Place -- which is borderline with me.  Some episodes are okay, but some are not.  I'm still deciding on this one.

I'd just like to know why there can't be more shows like iCarly (which is not, by the way, on Disney, but on a Canadian tween channel called YTV)-- this show is about a fun and spunky teen who has a quirky family life but is down to earth, smart and polite.  She's not rich.  She's not rude.  She's not throwing herself at boys.  The show is centered around her unique family and her little web show that she puts on (no, not a creepy sexual thing) It's something that I could see my own kids doing...turning on a camera, doing stupid tricks like making milk come out of your nose, and having fun.  I like that she's smart and proud of it.  Too many of the other shows have their leading ladies dumb it up.  I think brains are good and ought to be emphasized a little more than the naked shoulder or barely there skirts (I don't care if you have opaque tights on underneath..not on my 9 year old!) -- oh...and why won't Disney Channel air this show?  Why is Disney grooming it's young women into such sexualized young women??

There's another show that's broadcast here in Canada on YTV network... it's called How to be Indie.  I really like this one too.  This show is about an immigrant Indian family and their daughter -- she's trying to find a way to maintain her culture and be Canadian.  Very cool.  It's borderline on the dumbness -- but when she acts stupid, there are usually repercussions to it (other than a concert gig)..and she learns that brains are better than trying to impress.

Okay...my little green light came on...off to read...let me know what you think of the Disney shows aimed at our young girls and the fact that teen pregnancy is not only on the rise, but happening to younger and younger girls....coincidence??

About a mom...

This weekend was amazing. It was Inspiring. Emotional. Moving. It was more than I ever thought it could be, and I'm not allowed to say anything more than that. Boo.

But -- while I was gone on this amazing adventure -- my mom was here watching my kids. She's a really great woman. She's the type of grandmother who buys my kids crap that they don't need just becuase she knows they'll have fun. Whether it's clothes or toys, used or "first hand" as my son calls it - she's the grandma who's taken the position of spoiling.

So, this weekend she spoiled me. She cleaned off my kitchen counter - which wasn't horribly bad, just a little disorganized. She dusted (I hate dusting) and she did laundry.

Yup -- you read that right. She messed with my schedule...she did laundry for my kids based on *gasp* lights & darks!!!

I came home and see her folding some laundry. Whites with pinks and yellows and light blues...and my OCD went into overdrive. I do my best to say thank you (did I really say the words??), I calmly go over to my fridge and pull of the schedule to show her. It's posted on my fridge, over each child's laundry basket, AND in my laundry room. This schedule is my life!!

It turns out, according to my friend's mother (who was with me) that I, apparently, overreacted. Me...overreact? Well...yeah, I guess I did.

I mean, yes, it helped. True, I don't have half the amount of laundry as I'd normally have. Granted, my kids didn't die becuase their whites weren't given the extra boost of BAM! Oxy Clean...but I know...you see? I know!!

So -- I blow my top...well, okay, I didn't really blow it...maybe popped is a better expression...that was Saturday....so Sunday comes (and I'm busy again with things that I am not yet able to mention) and when I come home...once again -- she did MORE laundry!



Eeek.

(how pathetic is it that I have to do deep breathing at this point just to continue blogging??)

Oh - she also let my kids eat all over the house...in the living room (only allowed when LOST is on), in the play room (NEVER EVER allowed). Do my kids pipe up and tell her this?? no, they do not. What do I find this morning? A plate full of half chewed cantaloupe (thanks Adam), yogurt drips on my couch that have hardened over and crusted (thanks Isaac) and candy wrappers stuffed down between the couch cushions (thanks Iman).

My mom gets emails of my blogs automatically -- so I don't want her thinking that I'm ungrateful, because nothing can be further from the truth. She's probably at her desk right now laughing and confirming her co-workers thoughts that she really is a crazy old bat.

Oh -- and mom...I never did find the straw!

Yoga Challenge

So -- Level 3 of the shred is a joy (seriously people). Still can't make it through all of the exercises - but that 20 minutes is gone before I even know it and I enjoy every second of it. However, this weekend, I chose to do the Yoga Meltdown.

My husband doesn't like when I write online about him...not even in a status update, so let's just say that I talked to "someone" and teased him to death until he decided to do the yoga with me. I pop in the video and we start doing the warm up which just consists of standing there and waving your arms up and down.

I should put a note here - I'm competitive. Nope, more than that, I'm the type of person who will work as hard as I can to do better than you then I'll do a little "hoo rah" dance in my head when I do extremely competitive.

We start getting into more moves. I know that "someone" isn't all that flexible - but I thought "anyone can do yoga" yet, someone proved me wrong. He's tipping over and falling and for most of the moves just laid there (or stood, depending on the position) while we both pretended that he was still doing it.

Can I just say how much I loved this? He's struggling and stumbling, and I'm flowing from one pose to another and, in a total un-yoga like manner, I was secretly laughing and pointing at him and saying "na na na na boo boo, I do Yoga better than you!"

Yes, I'm pathetically immature that competitive.

Later, becuase I can't possibly let him get away with the yoga failure and feel the insane urge to brag wanted to make some conversation with my dad and his family, I start talking about our Morning Yoga Session together.

His response "my body's not built right for it."

Last night, he challenged me to a Shred Off...but he's only willing to do level 1. I think I may just take him up on it.