And So It Goes...

Six Stellar Scoops On Saturday

2012-03-10T01:21:00.000-06:00

Okay, so this post was supposed to be done on Friday and titled "Five Fun Facts on Friday", but I'm a tad late. So sue me. I have seen this on a couple of other blogs (most recently on Becky's) and decided it's high time I do one of my own :) Here we go...

1) I cannot NOT shoulder check when I'm driving. Shortly after getting my license, I had a dream where I was changing lanes without checking and I kept ramming vehicles off the road. Since then, I always always always check. Even if I'm the passenger.

2) When I'm brushing my teeth, I stick my tongue out and to the side. Not completely out like I'm having my uvula checked...just...sort of...out. I find it holds my toothbrush down and gives a bit of extra pressure to get in to any crevices.

3) There are a ton of movies I have yet to watch (but probably never will). These include: any of the Godfathers or Rambos, pretty much all the main Christmas specials (Miracle on 34th, It's A Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story), A Princess Bride, The Sound of Music, all of Dirty Dancing (I've seen bits and pieces), Ghost, Top Gun, or Shawshank Redemption. That's all I can think of for now.

4) I hate wearing socks. If I am at home, I am barefoot. The only time I wear socks is if I'm going out in the winter or if I'm going to work. Other than that, my feet are bare. Socks make my feet feel dirty. A side effect of going sock-free is the nasty ass corn I've been dealing with since last summer. I scrape it off with my scalpel, but it keeps coming back...wtf? Why is it so hard to get rid of? Plus, if I don't peel my heels, they are the ugliest, cracked looking mofos you've ever seen. They get pretty nasty in the winter (because no one except Mike sees them). Come summer time, I use my pedi-file (I've named him Mustached Ralph because that's a good pedophile's name) on my heels on a daily basis. I also use this thing that looks like a cheese grater. It looks nasty, but it works.

5) From the age of thirteen to twenty-one, I wore men's boxer briefs instead of women's underwear. I found them to be WAY comfier and I ended up with less wedgies. Mike thought the boxers were cute on me, but when we started getting our gitchies mixed up, I knew it was time to switch to panties.

6) Words that I hate? Panties. Fecundity. Abscess. Moist. Succotash. Unfathomable.

Questions On My Mind, As Of Late

2012-03-04T23:27:00.001-06:00

* When I'm out and about, I have found myself wondering whether local blog readers have spied me in the aisles of Stupidstore and mentally gone, "Oh my god! That's her! The crazy chick who really enjoys farting, but man does she make me laugh!". In my blogging career, I have had a total of two people approach me and tell me how much they love my blog (one incident actually happened in another city, which made it that much more exciting!). Note to readers: feel free to approach me in public and introduce yourself. If I ever saw Dooce, the Bloggess or Kelle Hampton in public (not that I'm comparing myself to their level of fame and/or greatness), I would totally go all five-years-old on them and jump up and down with excitement. I have a tendency to act like a complete knob around celebrities. Exhibit A...me meeting Donnie Wahlberg.

Quite possibly the worst, yet funniest, picture of me. Ever.

* Why is it so impossible to reason with a two year old? Miss K has gone from 90% sweet and lovable to 90% full-on Exorcist. I find it interesting that I am actually capable of handling her head-spinning moments by laughing my way through them. If I didn't laugh, I'm pretty sure I would chuck all 30 pounds of her out into the snowbank. Laughing is (and always has been) the only way I can get through stressful situations.

* Why am I sitting here with frozen hamburger patties under my boobs? Okay, so I've only found myself with hamburgers in my bra once...other times, it's frozen peas, cans of frozen oj or anything cold. This pregnancy has re-ignited my bouts with chest pains (I've had them for the last 14 years) and frozen things pushed against my sternum help them go away. Actually, prescription meds make them go away the fastest, but I can't take those right now because I'm growing a human and blah blah blah meds will make it grow horns or something. So, I have to rely on ice gel, frozen food and measured breathing to ease the pain. The only bonus to having chest pains is when my choice of what frozen meat to shove in my bra corresponds with my plan for supper that night.

* Why am I not blogging more often? I've been feeling all right these last two weeks. By "all right", I mean that I'm not constantly crying and feeling like the world would be better off without me. My concentration and motivation are slowly getting back to where they were before. The majority of my energy is split between two things...Miss K and trying to keep myself calm/stress free. I formulate many blog posts in my mind throughout the day, but by the time evening comes and I have free time to myself, all I want to do is veg or spend time with Mike. I've also been trying to get my daily life/routine back in order. When the depressive episodes hit, everything gets tossed out the window...routine, tidiness in the house, cleaning, etc. and it takes time to come back from that. I hate hate hate the fact that my house looks like a pint-sized tornado has hit it on a daily basis.

Now, please enjoy this completely random picture of one of our local churches from a few years ago. It's nice to see them reaching out to all walks of life.

What's Been Happening...In Alphabetical Order

2012-02-18T16:35:00.001-06:00

Backed Up...there's nothing like starting off with talking about, ahem, bowel movements. Actually, it's the lack there of. Pregnancy brings about a whole gamut of issues and being backed up is one of them. I take my Senokot on a daily basis in hopes that they will provide some, er, relief the following morning. Alas, it normally takes a few days to see results. I was suffering from some pain up under my ribs last week and I was convinced it was from my bowels being so backed up that the, um, "train" was actually poking into my ribs. Nothing but fun fun fun in these parts :)

Boiling...our city has been under a boil water order for the last two weeks. It hasn't really affected us too much, besides the fact that we have to keep a close eye on Kat while she's in the bath to make sure she doesn't slurp down mouthfuls of water. The contamination is said to cause stomach cramps and diarrhea. I'm not gonna lie - I've been tempted to slam a few liters of contaminated water in an effort to get things moving and shaking in my bowels.

Chaos...With a busy two year old, a chaotic household is sure to follow. I am continually amazed at how quickly our house can go from being neat and orderly to looking like a tornado has hit us. For every three things I put away, Miss K pulls out five things. She leaves a path of destruction behind her, wherever she goes. We've also started working on tidying up after ourselves.

Cravings...at 17 weeks along (almost half way there!), my cravings are still going strong. Last week, it was all about hot dogs for this girl. This week? I can't get enough of plain old meat, cheese and mayo sandwiches. I eat them for lunch, supper and my snacks. I'm starting to feel a bit like Jughead.

Creativity...Miss K is at a wonderfully awesome age (25 months). She is interested in EVERYTHING ("What's at? What's is?" is all we hear all day long). Pinterest has been pulling through for me and I've found some awesome little games/crafts to keep her occupied. We've been working on colours and counting these last two weeks. As she hops down the hallways, I love hearing, "One! Two! Seven! Nine! Six!". The girl might get them a bit backwards, but her ability to count to ten isn't far off from happening :)

Gambling...a few weeks ago, I bought myself a couple of scratch tickets. Since that original $6.00 purchase, I have been on a winning streak with at least one of each of my tickets paying off (allowing me to cash them in for more tickets). My biggest win so far was a lovely little $50 winner (along with a couple of $25s. On big winners, I pocket the majority of the cash and buy just a few more tickets. Miss K has gotten into the gambling spirit and will happily take a penny to help me scratch the tickets. I'm nothing, if not a positive role model for her :)

Reading...I recently visited our local library. I wanted some books on toddler development (so I can better understand what's going on inside her brilliant little mind). As I went to check out my books, the librarian informed me that I had $48.00 in overdue fines. It had been over two years since I last checked out some books. Apparently, in that time, library fines tripled in cost so I pointed out that I should only have to pay $16.00 (what the original fine would have been). Luckily, the librarian agreed. I shall not be making the mistake of returning my books late again!

Twilight...On Valentine's Day, I spied the newest release of the Twilight saga and promptly scooped myself a copy. Since Mike was working nights, I figured a date with Edward Cullen would be the next best thing. Watching "Breaking Dawn" reignited my love affair with the series and, over the last few nights, I have been re-watching each of the movies. As a result, I have also been lucky enough to dream about Edward each night :) Le sigh...

That's all for now...I promise it won't be a three week hiatus before I post again :)

Wednesday's Rambles

2012-02-01T23:16:00.000-06:00

* First up, can I talk about pregnancy cravings for a minute? I'm not sure why I asked that because even if any of you said, "No", I'm going to go ahead anyways. Cravings are a miraculous thing. I can be drooling like a starving lion over ~~wanting~~ needing salt and vinegar chips NOW and by the time Mike gets back from the store with them, I've moved on from the chips and onto my next craving ("Why didn't you pick up lime jello as well?!?"). What I crave one day most often ends up repulsing me the next. For the most part, my biggest cravings have been for chocolate milk and kraft dinner...healthy, much?

* Nothing puts a bigger smile on my face than taking Kat to her dayhome (and I don't mean because of the break it gives me). Even though I'm off work, I still take K there every Wednesday. It gives me a day to get caught up on all the things that I've neglected throughout the week (read: everything). The dayhome is only five houses away from us, so it makes for a nice, little walk in the morning. When we walk up to the door, all the kids get so excited to see Kat. The woman who runs the home always tells me how the kids talk about Kat when she's gone and how cute they think she is. As soon as K's boots and coat are off, the kids swarm her like moths to a flame. It just makes me so happy to see that she is loved :)

* In other pregnancy stuff, although I'm only 14 1/2 weeks along, my back is already causing me much grief. It's only the left side, but the pain shoots down my leg and causes me to limp. I suppose I should Google whether that's my sciatic nerve or not, but I just haven't gotten around to it yet. You can just add that to the huge list of shit that I've been neglecting lately :)

* Remember when I wrote about a house I fell in love with and how the woman agreed to sell it to us? Turns out the chick was lying (or on crack). Imagine my surprise when I saw the house not only listed without giving us a heads up, but that she's asking for $28, 000 more than what she said she'd sell it to us for!!! Although I'm FB friends with her (and we've had coffee a few times), I have yet to bring this little issue up with her. I imagine that email would start with three simple letters...WTF?

Sh!t My Spouse Says: The Good Hair Day Edition

2012-01-29T01:03:00.000-06:00

Wife: I need to go out today.

Husband: Where to?

Wife: Doesn't matter. Anywhere.

Husband: Oh? How come?

Wife: Because I actually did my hair today and I don't want to waste it on just you.

Husband: Nice.

The One With All The Puking and Crying

2012-01-26T00:13:00.000-06:00

There's a good chance I'll have to leave halfway through this post to go to the bathroom to throw up. No, it's not from the flu :) I had posted about this back at the beginning of December and then retracted it. I felt it was too early and, given my paranoid and anxious mind, I didn't want to say anything until a few more weeks had passed. I'm in the clear and can share the news...I'm totally pregnant :)

I am 13 weeks along, due August 2nd and over the moon excited to give Kat another sibling and my parents another grandchild in Canada. As with my first pregnancy, the excitement gets over-ridden by the hormones and, once again, I get lost in a world of depression. When the depressive thoughts mix with my OCD, things take a dark turn and my sole focus becomes not wanting to be alive. It sucks. And it's scary. It's almost like being held hostage in my mind because I don't know when it's going to hit. It would be one thing to be in a lonnnnng, drawn out state of depression and to be actively focused on suicide and making all the necessary preparations. But that's not me. I don't want to die. Killing myself is the most idiotic thing I could ever do (besides picking up hitch hikers with my wee baby in the van...and their dog).

The impulsiveness behind the OCD is cuh-RAZY. I can go from having a decent-ish day to spending the rest of the afternoon in bed, crying and tracing a line on my wrist. Like I said...unpredictable and terrifying. This time around, I have amazing supports in place and I'm not afraid to admit when I'm feeling "off". My medication has dramatically increased in the last few weeks, in hopes that it will help curb the thoughts. I am seeing both my counsellor and my psychiatrist on an almost weekly basis. Mike is doing an amazing job of picking up where I drop off. Have I mentioned what an incredible husband I have? I could NOT be doing this without him.

Okay...so, I'm pregnant and crazy. What else can be thrown into this mix to make things a little more fun? How about some wicked morning sickness? I've been taking Diclectin for the past month and while it's helping with some of the nausea, it has pretty much lost all effectiveness over the last two weeks. And when I puke, I puke hard. I puke with such force that I end up with peticheal hemmoraging all over my face. What is that? It's thousands of broken capillaries near the surface of my skin. Basically, I look like I have a constant rash from my forehead, down to below my ears. Say it with me...."Awwwwe-some!".

The majority of my puking happens in the late afternoon. If I don't take my Diclectin by a certain time, there seems to be no going back and supper is pretty much a write off. The other thing that affects my puking is cravings. I've noticed a correlation between giving in to my cravings and then puking. Crave-eat-puke. Crave-eat-puke. Obviously there's only one sensible conclusion, right? Eat my cravings faster so that I have more time to enjoy it before it inevitably reappears :)

So there you have it...pregnant, depressed, anxious and puking. I am sooo looking forward to when the symphysis pubis kicks in again and it feels like I'm repeatedly being kicked in the crotch. Ahhhh...the joys of pregnancy :)

This was taken on November 5th, 2011, the day we first found out. Shortly after this pic was taken, I hammered the rest of the milkshake K is drinking and promptly threw up :)

Learning How To Spell

2012-01-23T19:56:00.000-06:00

Every parent thinks their child is a genius. I'm no exception. Every little thing Miss K does warrants an enthusiastic, "Holy crap! Get out the Harvard application forms!" from me. With Kat's latest accomplishment, I think I'm going to hold off on filling out those forms :)

Given her fondness for dropping the f-bomb, it came as no surprise when I came across K at the computer, typing out the following:

The fact that this typing session was immediately preceded by my telling her she could not have cookies for breakfast only strengthens my belief that she really does understand what this word means.

The Art of Walking Indoors

2012-01-21T14:48:00.002-06:00

Recently, my mom encouraged me to start getting out of the house and walking. Instead of attempting to walk outside in this frozen wasteland, we headed over to the local hockey rink to do laps on the upper concourse. The first time we went, we walked together and chatted. It was a great way to get exercise and catch up on things. By the time I'd completed my ninth lap (which is just over a mile), I was done. My mom took off for one extra lap and I noticed that she increased her speed.

The next time she phoned me to go, I threw my iPod in my pocket. I asked her if she would be offended if we walked separately for two reasons - (1) I didn't want to slow her down and (2) music is an awesome motivator for me (that and seeing people who are fatter than me out walking - it reminds me that I don't want to get to their size so it pushes me to walk faster and try and lap them).

I was on my sixth lap when my legs started to feel a bit rubbery. I told myself I would do one more lap and call it a day. And then Lady Gaga's "Pokerface" came blasting through my earphones. Outwardly, the only change to my gait was that my pace increased. Mentally, I became a fierce beyotch of a model, strutting down the runway wearing an original Versace gown and a stone cold look on my face. I held my gaze on a single point at the end of each runway and worked it like it's never been worked before. I kid you not, when I hit the corner of the rink that is blocked from view by the special seating boxes, I even did a spin on the runway. Albeit, I did a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one behind me was going to catch sight of this. I was able to get three more laps in before the song ended and my runway debut came to and end.

Once again, I felt like my legs were done and that was my final lap. But next up on the playlist was Celine Dion's "River Deep, Mountain High" (I understand if you delete my blog from your favourites after reading that). In my mind, my stretch pants were replaced with a glittery, tassled mini skirt and I was whooping it up a la Tina Turner. As I rounded the corner blocked from everyone's view, I was ready to throw some jazz hands up in the air, but this time there was a pair of ladies behind me, so I withheld my outward spectacle. Inside, I was shimmying all over the stage :)

On a final note, for anyone in the area who decides to take up walking at this particular rink, let me give you a little bit of advice...that narrow stretch that's blocked off from view that I mentioned? Do not, I repeat, do NOT break wind while you're walking in that area. If it's a gooder of a toot, it will hang in the air for the next ~~two~~ three laps. On the upside, chances of anyone pinpointing it on you are slim :)

The Not-So-Tearless Tear Duct Surgery

2012-01-19T03:22:00.000-06:00

Miss K had her tear duct surgery on Wednesday. We were scheduled to be at the hospital at 6:30am. To add insult to the injury of our cruel, way-too-early awakening, it was something like minus two trillion yesterday morning. We started the van at 5:30 in attempt to have it warm for our 6:10 departure. Yeah, it was blowing "warm-ish" air by the time we were all buckled in. Brutal doesn't even begin to describe the temperature.

Kat was in a surprisingly good mood, despite the four hours of sleep we all had. She charms everyone she comes into contact with, and the nurses were no exception. They were smitten from the moment Kat let out an exuberant, "Good morning! Ow are you? Good."

After checking in to admitting, we toodled down the hall to day surgery. We were quickly ushered into what would become our private "room" for the morning (just a curtained off area with a bed and a chair). K thought the yellow striped pajamas were the bomb. The first thought that crossed my morbid mind? "I wonder if another child has died wearing these pjs?". Yeah, it's those types of thoughts that are reallllly helpful at times like that.

It wasn't long before a nurse came to take K's vitals. She was enthralled with all the beeping machines. Unfortunately, this interest wouldn't last all day.

Mike's a little bleary eyed, but rightfully so :)

A much needed snuggle with Mommy (for both of us).

Shortly after, an OR nurse came to get K and I. I got to put on a lovely yellow scrub (reminiscent of a snugglie only not as warm) and a blue shower cap thing. We kissed Daddy good-bye and made our way to the OR. We were given a warm blanket to cuddle under while we waited for the anesthetist. Once I was given the run-down on what would happen in the OR, it was time to go in. I thought I was prepared...

They laid K down on the table and someone handed me a small, plastic mask to practice holding over K's face (there was no tubes attached to it). The act of holding it over her mouth was the beginning of the end for both of us. She freaked. Plan B was for me to sit down, with her in my lap and hold the mask over her face. It was my turn to freak. Miss K resisted and resisted and resisted. She fought and twisted and screamed and cried. At one point, the tubes popped off the mask, meaning the gas was freely flowing through the air. The nurses quickly told me to hold my breath, lest I pass out as well. As K continued to fight, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. The look in Miss K's eyes just about killed me...because it was ME holding the mask, she had this look like I had broken her trust...why, oh, why was Mommy doing this to her? It broke my heart.

When K finally succumbed to the gas, they laid her on the table and ushered me out. In a scene reminiscent of Grey's Anatomy where one of the doctor's has just lost a patient, I damn near ran down the hall, crying, tore of my scrubs and threw them in a basket. I just about punched a wall for good measure. I was panicking and I needed a hug from Mike. I made my way back to Day Surgery and had a good (quiet) cry.

The surgery was very short and we had been told Recovery would phone for us once she was there. We saw on the monitoring screen when she was moved to Recovery (kudos to the Vic for installing this system...similar to an arrival/departures screen at an airport!). Every time the phone rang at the desk, I expected that it would be for me. Time kept ticking by and I began to get more and more antsy. All of a sudden, a bed, ushered by two nurses, came around the corner and there was Miss K. She was sitting up and completely fine. Until she caught sight of me. Then she began to wail. Apparently, she was fine cuddling with a Recovery nurse until she looked up and realized, "You're not my mommy!". It was shortly after that they brought her back to us.

We hung around in Day Surgery until K had a bit to drink and calmed down. The whole time, she kept pointing down the hall and saying, "Go? Go?". We were all relieved when we finally got to leave. We were home by 10:30am and we all laid down for a much needed nap.

I am thankful that her tear duct surgery was a success. I am thankful that it was a very minor procedure. I am thankful that it is over with. I am thankful to have such a wonderfully, calming husband like Mike. And I'm thankful that K will likely not remember any of it. For me? I will never forget that look in her eyes as I held the mask on her face though. Utterly heartbreaking.

It's Time For Me

2012-01-17T14:01:00.000-06:00

It's no secret I've been in a slump these last two months...especially not to my family. I've said it before and I'll say it again - Mike is the most incredible husband. Without a single word of complaint, he always picks up where I drop off. He takes over the child duties, household duties and works all of his shifts. I haven't been to work since the end of November. I don't know when I'm going back. I'm signed off until the end of January and we'll just take it from there. When you can't seem to drag yourself out of bed (let alone shower or get properly dressed), work is the least of my worries. When you're bombarded with thoughts of wanting to die and that the world would be better off without you, work is the last place you want to have a major bout of crying.

It is beyond frustrating to be stuck in this unhealthy place. I don't want to be here...'here' as in this mental shit hole where I continue to believe that everyone is better than me and my self-worth is non-existant. There are good moments and even good days, but the darkness always seems to find it's way back to me. Although I know I am completely armed against these unwanted thoughts (through medication and tools that my counsellor has given me), it just doesn't feel like enough. Plus, when I'm at the bottom of that hole, I don't always reach for the tools that I should...I just wallow in the darkness and feed it the negative thoughts that it wants.

It is a definite struggle, but I know that it is one that I will win. Maybe I just need a high dose of medication. Or maybe it's time for some life changes. A new job? A new hobby? A new house? I don't know what it will take. But I do know that I need to start focusing on myself for a change...not in a completely selfish way where all of my needs come first. I just need to make sure I take time each day to work on becoming healthy - physically, spiritually and mentally. Whether that means Mike shouting Bible passages at me while I walk on the treadmill or whether I snack on whole-wheat organic goat tofu while I paint my toe nails....oh, yes...it's definitely time for me :)

I think my first step will be getting a slight trim AND getting bangs cut. If I don't think the bangs are a match for me, I can always pop my trusty black headband back in :)

Ciao for now :)

Two Years Old

2012-01-12T22:00:00.008-06:00

Dear Kat,

Today you turned a whopping two years old. Where, oh, where has the time gone? In no time at all, you have gone from a quiet, sweet, content little babe to this bright-eyed, shrieking, goofy, dancing, observant, curious little girl who loves to freely give kisses. You are an absolute delight to watch...whatever it is you are doing.

I am continually amazed at all the things you have learned in your short life. Your language is exploding and it seems like you add ten new words each day. You are constantly watching Daddy and I and you like to copy us, every chance you get. You know how to make a cup of coffee; you know that a debit card is money and if you give it to a cashier, you get something in return and you can work our Mac better than your Daddy can. You are just a little sponge, soaking up the world around you.

Sweet, little Kat...there have been so many moments where I feel like I have completely failed you, but I'm pretty sure that's a standard feeling in motherhood. I worry about your eating habits, your sleeping habits and pretty much every aspect of your development. I worry that we don't get outside as often as we should and that we don't play with other kids your age enough. I worry that I'm missing out on teachable moments that could forever shape who you become. I worry that there is a deadline fast approaching where I need to have taught you all the important morals and values and that I'm going to miss that deadline because I'm too busy teaching you how to flick boogers at a moving target instead.

But along with all these mistakes that I fear I am making, I also know I am starting to create some wonderful memories for you...playing in the pool in the summer, trips to the lake, sharing milkshakes after shopping, going for walks with Shandi, building forts out of blankets and the list goes on. I want to do my best to create a childhood similar to mine - one that is full of imagination, creativity and many, many laughs. You are my sunshine, sweet baby K. And don't you ever forget it :)

Love Mommy

*********
* This video has since been removed. If you weren't lucky enough to catch it in the first few days of it being posted, too bad for you :)

In honour of Kat turning two, I thought I would post a video that I shot just before supper. Over the last few days, K has picked up a new word that she learned (mostly from Daddy). You wanna talk about feeling like you've failed your kid? I can't wait until she drops this word while she's in our church's toddler room.

Warning: do not watch this video with small children around. NSFW.

Password is kat

PS - I was doing my best to keep a completely straight face because we're trying to have a totally neutral reaction when Kat says it. We do NOT encourage this type of language. But sometimes shit like this just fucking happens.

Wherein I Start A Slow Clap

2012-01-04T19:24:00.000-06:00

If you don't know who The Bloggess is, I feel horribly sorry for you. She is, hands down, one of the funniest bloggers in the world today (so say at least three people). She also suffers from depression. The other day, she wrote a post about depression and, if I wasn't feeling so shitty myself, I would have stood up and cheered.

I really wish that I could print out the following and deliver it to people in my life who don't have a sniff of what life with depression/anxiety/OCD is like...to my neighbours, who likely wonder why I am always home; and to the supervisors and management at work, who probably think I'm just lazy. Until you've lived it or lived with it, you'll never be able to understand.

The following is taken from The Bloggess's site:

*****

When cancer sufferers fight, recover, and go into remission we laud their bravery. We call them survivors. Because they are.

When depression sufferers fight, recover and go into remission we seldom even know, simply because so many suffer in the dark…ashamed to admit something they see as a personal weakness…afraid that people will worry, and more afraid that they won’t. We find ourselves unable to do anything but cling to the couch and force ourselves to breathe.

When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate. Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive. We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker…but as survivors. Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it. Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand.

Regardless, today I feel proud. I survived. And I celebrate every one of you reading this. I celebrate the fact that you’ve fought your battle and continue to win. I celebrate the fact that you may not understand the battle, but you pick up the baton dropped by someone you love until they can carry it again. I celebrate the fact that each time we go through this, we get a little stronger. We learn new tricks on the battlefield. We learn them in terrible ways, but we use them. We don’t struggle in vain.

We win.

We are alive.

*********

Random Observations To Start Off The Year

2012-01-03T01:11:00.000-06:00

* I hit up the Fat Store on Boxing Day to take advantage of their kick ass sales. They had a ton of nightgowns (yah, that's right - I said nightgowns) that were on for wicked cheap. Trouble was, they only had 1X or 5X left for sizes. Since my asses can't squeeze into a 1X, I decided to buy a 5X (seriously...for $6.00, I couldn't pass it up). In order to fit this nightgown, I would literally need to weigh 500 pounds. When I got home, I read the writing on the front. In diamondy glitter, it read, "Glamourous". Bitch, please...anybody that needs to wear a 5X is anything but "glamourous".

* On New Year's Day, as Mike was making brunch, I snuck up behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest to give him a backwards hug. After snuggling for a moment, I voiced my realization that if I gave a quick, sharp pull with my hands (akin to the Heimlich Manoeuver) I could probably stop his heart. Our romantic hug quickly came to an end.

* There are many times I watch Kat and wonder, "What will she be when she grows up?". Maybe her love of books will lead her to be an author. Perhaps her love of colouring will lead to a life filled with art. Or, if I cause her enough emotional damage before she's four, perhaps her current obsession of taking off her clothes and dancing will lead her all the way to Vegas. A mother can dream...

My Favourite Moments of 2011

2012-01-02T11:43:00.000-06:00

Kat, on her 1st birthday

Mike showing off the massive snow pile in our back yard.

Kat's love affair with her sunglasses began in the bathtub.

The last photo with Grandpa in his condo.

Playing with Baby Kitty...Kat whips that toy around like Indiana Jones. Best get out of her way when she has it.

14 months old? Or 14 years?

Posing for Mommy's business, but not happy about it. Mama said knock you out...

The start of many walks to the park...

At dawn, we ride!!! Aaarrggghhh!

BBQing with Daddy

Kat and her Technicolor Dream Coat.

Shandi turns six.

The bumblebee that I nursed back to health.

Kat and Daddy at the lake.

My favourite moment, hands down...relaxing on the dock by myself for two whole hours!

Fun in the paddling pool.

Mimicking the Coppertone Baby

Dorothy and her non-cooperative Toto.

Snuggles after a bath.

This kid has inherited my love of reading.

Discovering sidewalk chalk.

One of the many fantastic light shows we were treated to this year.

Kat posing for Mommy's website

Last trip to the lake for the summer.

Helping Mommy bake

Thanksgiving 2011

A bath with glow sticks

A chilly October walk

Rawr! Halloween 2011

Eating more chocolate chips than she was adding to the dough!

Modeling again for the website.

New Year's Day

2012-01-01T02:34:00.000-06:00

Normally, in the week running up to New Year's, I do a series of posts about the best/worst of the year, my favourite moments, what I learned and what I hope to learn in the coming year. I've been in just a tad of a slump these last few weeks and, honestly, when I want the entire world to just go suck an egg, I don't really care about reflecting on the past or writing hopefully about the year to come. But I don't want this post to be all glum and sucky, so I'll try my best to put on air of happiness :) There...that emoticon happy face should do the trick.

Right now, Mike and I feel like we're standing in front of a bunch of doors and we can only pick one. Our decisions involve our house and our careers, but we can't do both right now. I have HUGE plans for what my career will be and it does not involve my current job. BUT we need a fairly large sum of money to get this project started and one way to get that money is by remortgaging our house. If we remortgage our house, there goes the chance for a new house right now. But, once my career takes off (and I have no doubts that it will), then we can get a house. The only problem with that is that the house I want right NOW probably won't be available in two years time when my career/project is actually flourishing. Are you starting to see our dilemma?

I only have one resolution for 2012 and it's not a very big one...to finish the year with a different name than I started. When I mentioned this to Mike, he thought I meant I was going to marry someone else. If he continues being an ass, I just might :) What I mean is that I am going to FINALLY legally change the spelling of my first name. When I was 14, I decided to change the "i" to a "y", but I never made it legal. Over the years, I've hit a few snags where someone has taken issue that there's a difference in my name from one sheet to the next. In any legal situation, I've always used the "i" version, but everywhere else, it's the "y". It's high time that the "y" shows up on every piece of paper.

That's all I got for now. Sorry I couldn't be more chipper and give you a post that left you busting a gut. Maybe in the days to come, the clouds in my mind will start to part and that sunshine that I know is in there will start to peak out. For now, I leave you with a picture of Little Miss Kat and the temper tantrum she threw about having to open presents on Christmas morning...

Ten On Tuesday: The Thursday Edition

2011-12-22T11:15:00.000-06:00

1) Yes, I've been in hiding for a few weeks. I took a physical shit-kicking with all of my ailments and it's taken me awhile to bounce back from it. Last week started off with my grabbing a knife away from Kat (a Cuisinart carving knife that was on the counter and Kat was blindly grabbing for whatever she could reach) only to end up dropping it (point down) on my foot. I was immediately impressed by the sheer amount of blood that sprayed across my foot. Had the knife fallen an inch forward, it likely would have chopped off my toe. Awesome way to start the week.

2) In keeping with the "feeling-like-shit" theme, my body decided to throw another curve ball my way - stomach pains in the middle of the night. For the last two weeks, I have been woken up by HORRIFIC cramps in my stomach that feel almost like gallstone attacks, but it's not nearly the same level of intensity (read: I'm not ready to go to the hospital over the pain). Laying on my back seems to get rid of the pain. Note to self: the simple solution here would be to not sleep on your side, dumb ass.

3) Once again, I find myself struggling to get into the Christmas mood. I have done ZERO baking this year which is not normal. Our tree is up, but only has lights on it - no decorations or garland. The majority of the presents are bought and wrapped. I don't know what it is about this time of year and me...I love Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but I would rather just bypass the build-up to it.

4) Joel came home from school on Tuesday quite upset. He said to Mike, "Daddy...take me to hospital. Heart. Broken". He was crying the ugly cry because he had discovered that the boy he is in love with (yes, I said boy) won't be at school next year (because he graduates). Joel proceeded to spend his first day of vacation playing "I'm All Out Of Love" over and over and over again at the highest possible volume. Part of me was sad for him, but another part was secretly happy that he's on par with other teenagers and gets the whole "love angst' thing :)

5) We've taught Kat to say, "Phooey!" when someone farts, instead of, "Niiiiiiiice!". Some day soon, we will be able to take her out in public again.

6) I've found a new house that I'm in love with and I can't stop daydreaming about it. Our current house is 1230 square feet. This new house is 1720. If you combine both levels, the size of the new house would be like adding TEN one-hundred square foot rooms to our house. It has FOUR living rooms (two up, two down); a huge separately housed dining room and a maze of a basement that just seems to go on and on. While it's in the new-ish area of the city, it's an older house which means it's within our financial grasp. Even if we don't get it, I love just daydreaming about its layout and where we'd put our furniture and so on :)

7) Kat is all about Elmo and Cookie Monster right now. If you ask her what Cookie Monster says, she puts her hand over her mouth and says, "Om nom nom nom!" in a growly voice. Note to self: must get that on video.

8) Most people don't get take home gifts when they leave their doctor's office (maybe a sucker sometimes). My last visit? I got my very own scalpel :) I've been having trouble with a corn on my foot. I thought they were like warts and once they were gone, they're gone. Unfortunately, that's not the case - it can take up to a year for them to disappear. Besides wearing those little corn pads and scrubbing it with a pumice in the shower, I am also diligent about slicing off the top few layers of skin before bed. The skin falls off like tiny little potato slices. I should save them for Kat to cook in her play kitchen.

9) The other day at counselling, my counsellor asked me, "What are your gifts?". My response? "I can smoke an entire cigarette in three drags, but I'm thinking that's not the answer you're looking for".

10) One of my New Year's resolutions? To be able to smoke a cigarette in two drags :)

Merry Christmas, everyone! Wishing you all a healthy and happy holiday season!!

The Fun Just Keeps Going

2011-12-06T01:51:00.000-06:00

I swear that this will be my last post complaining about being sick! If you're bored already, then you can just go away. If you're interested in reading about how every time I blow my nose, I shart a little bit, well, then continue on, my friend.

My head cold had finally dropped down into my chest and I did a half-hearted dance thinking it meant I was finally on the mend. How very wrong I was. On Saturday (or was it Friday?), I blew my nose and simultaneously burst my left ear drum. There was a very loud, high pitched squeal and then the room started to spin FAST. I dropped to my knees (only to have Kat think we were playing a game) and stayed on the ground for the next few minutes (with Kat sitting next to me, covering her own ear and rocking back and forth). Since then, every time I blow my nose (which is a lot), I blow out my ear all over again and then the room spins. You can imagine how nauseous I am feeling from, more or less, being stuck on a carnival ride for the last two days.

Let me stop for a moment and list my symptoms...stuffed nose, sore throat, horrible cough, swollen glands, sore neck (from all the coughing), burst ear drum, nauseousness and, on top of all that, the same nasal staph infection from last week. Throw in a little diarrear (yes, that's how we say it) and you've got one hell of a party happening over here.

I dragged my sorry ass back to the doctor today. When he walked into the exam room, the first words out of his mouth were, "You've got a urinary tract infection! I was going to phone you tonight, but here you are!". Apparently, when I went for blood/urine testing last Thursday, the white blood cell count in my urine was through the roof. Can I get an "Awe! Some!"? If you Google "white blood cells in urine", the three possible causes are: urinary tract infection, kidney disease or cancer. I don't have any symptoms of a UTI (it doesn't hurt/burn when I pee and I don't feel like I have to pee all the time). Hmmmmm.....that only leaves two other possibilities. This week just keeps getting better and better.

After a thorough examination, I was told I had a double ear infection, bronchitis and a UTI (although I'm doubting the UTI thing). However, I don't doubt the ear infection/bronchitis...I am one pathetic unit right now.

The upside to all of this? My little mama-in-the-making has been taking wonderful care of me :) Kat's learned how to say, "Oh! Poor Mama!" and she is doling out the hugs and kisses every time she walks passed my sorry ass on the couch :)

I'm Not Sure I'll Ever Understand...

2011-12-04T20:15:00.001-06:00

Why do people think it's okay to wear their outside shoes into other people's homes? It just baffles me. In my house, if you step passed the acceptable point with your shoes on (the acceptable points being off the large mat at our front door or up the stairs at our back door), you are forever black listed.

OCD aside, I would think "normal" people would be disgusted by the thought of wearing their outside shoes indoors. Think about it...on a daily basis, you are stepping in other people's spit, gum, urine and possibly feces (either human or canine). And then you wear those shoes into your house (even if it's "just to grab the keys you forgot on the counter") and drag all those yucky contaminants onto your floor. If you have toddlers or babies, they are then crawling/walking/rolling through that pooh/spit/urine...blech!!! In my mind, if you walk into my house with your shoes on, there is no difference between that and spitting directly on my floor.

Over the last few weeks, we have had home care coming in for Joel. The majority of the aides are quite respectful, but there are a few that cause my blood pressure to sky rocket when I see them coming up the walk. One woman attempted to wear her outside shoes down the hall to Joel's room. When I asked her to take her shoes off, her response was, "But it's dry outside?". That makes no difference in my mind...you still walked through a million germs from your car to our door. I now have a sign posted in our front hall stating that all outside shoes must be removed (and they must stay on the black mat...not the lino - this same woman has been taking her wet/muddy shoes off on the lino which completely defeats the purpose of having mats!!).

On a side note, I see purses as being almost as dirty as shoes and there are a limited number of places a woman can set her purse down in my house. One does NOT place her purse on any surface that food might touch. This includes any of the kitchen cupboards, Kat's high chair table or our dining room table. The floor or our breakfast bar are the only two acceptable places to put a purse (that includes mine and I actually wash mine on a weekly basis).

I need a sign for my front door that reads,"Welcome To My House - Don't Fucking Touch Anything."

:P

Decency In The Workplace

2011-12-03T15:13:00.000-06:00

Maybe it's just the city I live in, but I don't understand why men think it's more than okay to say rude/crude/icky things to their female co-workers. When did this become the norm? And these aren't 20-year old guys who are trying to be flirtatious in hopes of scoring a date. These are married men, well into their forties, fifties and even sixties who think it's acceptable to literally rub shoulders with women and schmooze up to them, like it's Friday night in a bar. It's disgusting.

The men doing this are someone's husband and, more often than not, someone's father. I would be horrified if my dad or Mike EVER treated any of their female co-workers the way that some of these men treat their co-workers. Have I mentioned how disgusting it is? Don't try to grab my hand and rub it. Don't lean in to me, shoulder first and pretend like you want to cuddle. Don't make jokes with sexual undertones. I'll say it again - it's disgusting.

What I'd like to know is why women perpetuate this and allow it to happen in the first place. Who are these women that think this is cute and fun and egg the men on? What sort of gratification do these women get by being objectified by these slobbering, blue-collared (and white-collared) neanderthals? It is beyond demeaning and I pity the women who actually enjoy being treated that way.

And what sort of power trip do these men get by treating women like sex objects? Especially the married men? Do their wives and children know that they say these icky things to other women? What is it these men are lacking in their lives that makes them want/need to say/do these things? I just don't understand it. Is it small penis syndrome? Is it because they were bullied as kids and now that they think their current title automatically comes with a certain power means they can say anything they want with no consequences?

What can a woman say/do when these icky comments are being made? I'd like to be able to put a definite stop to this crap, but do it in a tactful way...you know, to be able to insult the guy without him realizing he's being insulted? I've always like the definition of tact: being able to tell someone to go to hell in such a nice way that they actually look forward to the trip :)

And it's not worth your time to suggest that these actions be reported as sexual harassment - this type of behaviour is deemed as acceptable right from the top, down. Like I said at the start...when (and how) did this become the norm?

Where'd It Go?

2011-12-01T14:07:00.001-06:00

So, those of you who were lucky enough to read the previous post, you might be wondering where has it gone (and the subsequent comments, for which I was very appreciative)? Once something is out on the internet, it's out there forever and I've had a change of heart on sharing....so those of you that know, can we keep our lips zipped? I'll explain all, in good time. For now, I'm focusing on not dropping dead from this nasty sickness. Although my voice does sound super sexy right now:)

Even More Awesome

2011-11-29T22:33:00.000-06:00

Now I'm sick, too.

And Mike threw out his back this afternoon trying to lift Shandi up on the bed.

Do you know how hard it is to run a household, run a business, work part-time AND take care of three sick people and yourself? It's crazy enough to make me want to get drunk, except I'm too tired to lift my arm up to the alcohol cabinet and unscrew the lid from the vodka.

The pity party ceremonies are about to commence.

Because I was the last one to get sick, it meant it was my job to go get the prescriptions today. My "it's not fair" attitude almost made me cough on as many people as I could, just to try and get even with the universe, but I didn't.

Did I mention I have a staph infection in my nose? Do you have any idea how bad those hurt, even without touching it?

What sucks the most is that there's no one left to take care of me.

Except the dog.

But she's too concerned with licking her crotch to pay anyone else any attention.

All Kinds Of Awesome

2011-11-28T23:30:00.000-06:00

A very loooooonng trip to our doctor's office today revealed several things:

1) I hate people.

2) I hate sick people who don't cover their mouths when they cough.

3) I hate being in public.

4) I hate being in public with a daughter who is sick, whiny and fussy.

5) I hate being in public with a sick daughter, sick step-son and sick husband.

6) Everyone else in the house gets a head cold...I get a staph infection.

7) A staph infection is NOT an STD (or so I learned because I always thought it was).

8) IF a staph infection was an STD, the infection is in my nose which means I would have had to either do something very icky or very kinky to get a disease in my nose.

9) There are some days I am just not supposed to be out in public and today was one of them.

10) If a person's head could literally explode, mine would have today.

Time for a book, bath and bed.

What I've Learned From Pooping

2011-11-27T14:34:00.001-06:00

* Warning: As this post contains some graphic mental images, I highly suggest you don't read it while eating. In fact, if you have an iPad or iPod touch, the best place to read this post would be while you're on the toilet. And don't even pretend like you don't internet while you're on the shitter. We all know you do it.

Patience is a virtue with which many people struggle. I am, by no means, an expert on the area, but I think I am further along in my ability to practice it than most. It was at a very young age that I was able to grasp its concept and apply it to my life. And it's all thanks to pooping.

You see, when my bowels get into a routine, they run with the same precision as a German train schedule. When I was in grade three, my bowels decided that 3:45pm was an appropriate time to evacuate on a daily basis. Unfortunately for me, 3:45pm was when I was only halfway home from school and I still had several blocks to walk. They were the kind of poops that give you goosebumps and, because you are clenching your bum cheeks so tightly, make you walk like a penguin.

As I was walking home, all I could think was, "Ihavetopoop. Ihavetopoop. Ihavetopoop. Ihavetopoop". After a few days of this, I realized I had two options. One, I could spend the entire walk focusing on how badly I had to poop or, two, knowing that I was going to eventually get home and be able to poop no matter what I thought about, I could choose to spend the walk home thinking about other things, instead of being consumed with pooping. With either train of thought, the outcome was going to be the same, so why not choose to spend my time thinking about other things that were more fun?

I've been able to apply my pooping patience throughout my life. When I'm faced with a situation that I might be stressing over, but that will eventually occur (such as waiting to hear from a job interview or some other stressful life scenario), then I remind myself that there's no point in being completely consumed with what the possible outcome might be when I could, instead, be focused on more meaningful things.

The other thing I've learned from pooping is that everyone does it. While you might be thinking, "No shit, Sherlock" (pun intended), what I mean by that is that everyone poops. And now I'm just repeating myself, so what's my point? My point is that poops come in a variety forms and they don't all make an easy exit. Some of them require a person to fully strip down, so as not to be restrained by any materials while pushing. Other poops require some rocking back and forth, while some need your legs to be held straight out in front of you. Some people need to chant and rub a rosary, while others might need to cross one leg. In addition to sometimes looking like an epileptic while pooping, there's also the sounds. And the smells. I don't think I need to get into detail on those, do I? To sum up...there is nothing elegant about taking a poop.

I keep the above mentioned ideas in mind when I am met with someone who has a holier-than-thou attitude. Someone who thinks they are better than everyone else. Someone who is a bully. Someone who finds personal joy in demeaning other people. We've all met these kinds of people - it might be another mother at the park who clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes when you mention you didn't breastfeed. It might be someone behind a desk on a power trip who just wants to make you feel small and unimportant. It might be that douche bag friend of your husband's who just always has to be right. About everything.

So, when these self-centered, egotistical people cross my path, I am able to mentally humble them by reminding myself that when they poop, they are on the same level as anyone else who has functioning bowels. Kind of messed up, but it works for me :)

Something's Gotta Give

2011-11-23T23:18:00.000-06:00

I can't put my finger on what has caused the crazy busy-ness in our household over these last few weeks. Maybe it's the tornado of a 22-month old that we have (and the constant following her around shouting "No! Don't touch that! Don't lick the dog's feet! Why would you think it's a good idea to flush your doll's head in the toilet? Good god, child...save the swirlies for when you'll inevitably be a bully to the rest of your kindergarten class!").

Maybe it's the increase in online businesses that happens during the Christmas season. Every day, I'm creating orders (and a lot of them custom) to be shipped out or picked up. After the massive trade show at the beginning of the month, I ran out of a lot of stock. So, I've been spending a lot time doing inventory, re-buying a lot of product and updating the website. Don't get me wrong...I'm not complaining. I love my online business and it doesn't feel like work :)

Perhaps it's that we're taking care of my parent's rental houses while they're in Portugal and everyone's taps seem to be leaking or their basements are flooding. Or their frickin' furnace quits at 11:00 at night and SaskEnergy won't come look at it.

I think part of the crazyness has to do with home care coming in for Joel. Although it is a HUGE break for us, it also puts us under a time constraint in the evenings. They come at 7:30 to put him into bed. Honestly, there are some evenings where I don't have supper cooked until 6:45 which means I have to rush to feed him before home care comes to give him night lunch. Plus, the fact that there are two strangers in our house, twice a day just adds to the busy-ness because I'll be good god damned if strangers are going to see my house a mess and potentially judge me on it :)

On top of all of the "to dos", there's the regular day-to-day things that need to be done...meals, laundry, tidying, baths, answering emails. Oh, yeah...and working my two days a week. Honestly? Going to work is BREAK for me lately. I have ZERO prep I need to do and I never have to bring home any marking. I simply show up, see what the students worked on the previous day and assign new stuff. Easy peezy. When they get to school in the morning, they always know what they have to work on, first thing and it takes them close to an hour to complete it. That first hour of almost complete silence is GOLD! for me :)

So, all of this to say...the blog has been a tad bit neglected lately. There are lots of funny things that go through my mind where I think, "Ooooh! That needs to be a post!" (like when I asked Mike what was the point of Movember...do all the men shave their mustaches and then donate the wiry hairs to men who have had reconstructive ball surgery after cancer?).

My goal is to be able to post at least once a week for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, the busy-ness seems like it's only going to increase from now until Christmas and, like the title of this post implies, when you're this busy, something's gotta give. For now, it seems to be my blog :(

While you anticipate the next post, please enjoy this photo of Kat and Santa. As you can tell, she was beyond thrilled to meet him.

Does It Need A Light?

2011-11-16T23:12:00.002-06:00

A few weeks ago, I was in Saskatoon, back at the fertility clinic. We are wanting to get things rolling to try for baby #2. Even though I've been there before (obviously), they still need us to do tests, bloodwork, HSGs and so on, before we can proceed.

At one point, I found myself in the stir-up chair with several, new-to-me people in the room. While the doc was prepping the vag-cam, there was another lady clicking away on a computer; someone else was setting out lots of shiny, large instruments on a tray and another woman was writing things down. I almost asked whether the janitors wanted to come in and check things out. The more, the merrier, right? The doc proceeded to do her inspection with the ultrasound, as one of the women fired away questions at me. I couldn't help but think, "Isn't this all in my file already?".

When the questioner asked, "Do you smoke?", I glanced away from the ultrasound screen and looked at her. I noticed that she wasn't looking at me, so I followed her line of sight...which was looking directly towards my somewhat- exposed lady bits.

I just couldn't help myself. "Are you asking me or my vagina?", I queried.

Note to self: when someone is holding a wand up your wahoo, it's best for all involved that you do NOT make them laugh.

Twenty Two Months

2011-11-12T02:10:00.000-06:00

My babe is growing up way too fast. It seems as though the majority of her growing up as happened in the last six weeks. Her vocabulary has exploded and Little Sister is starting to speak two and three word sentences. Granted, one of those sentences was, "Oh, shit!", but, I'll take it...at least it was used in the proper context (she dropped her cup of water). It didn't help that Mike and I fell over in a heap of laughter which only prompted Sister to repeat it over and over and over again. When we were done wiping the tears from our eyes, we made a promise to never acknowledge those words again. And to stop using swear words when she's around.

In the category of more appropriate word usage, Kat loves to say, "Oh no! What happen?" every chance she gets...if there's a loud noise, if someone drops something, if music stops playing etcetera etcetera. The following list is more for my record-keeping sake than it will be of interest to you, but here are all the words (that I can think of) that Kat currently says:

- baby, Mommy, Daddy, Joel, Grandma, Grandpa, Shandi, puppy Kitty, blanket, bottle (ba-ba), bath, shirt, pants, shoes, socks, grapes, banana, milk, cookie, dip, spoon, eat, up, down, NO!, sit, go, stop, light, night-night, sleep, book, movie, Elmo, Pocoyo (a cartoon chracter), diaper, poop, eye, nose, ear, mouth, hands, toes and help.

The phrases she says are: "Where it go?", "What happen?", and "What you do?" (the last one always makes me giggle).

This is Kat, at twenty-two months:

- loves reading books (by herself and listening to them)

- loves to help with everything (emptying the dishwasher, cleaning floors, emptying shopping bags etc)

- hates wearing socks

- loves to pick her toe jam (and everyone else's)

- likes to sit on the ledge in the fridge to have her poops

- is starting to pick out what she wants to wear

- favourite word is, "No!" and she can sound like a grumpy, old man when she says it

- loves baths and splashing in any container with water

- loves to pretend she's cooking

- wants to kiss anyone and everyone as they are leaving

- knows that when the Skype signal is bouncing up and down, it means she gets to talk to Grandma and Grandpa

- loves to chat on her cell phone

- loves the swing in the park

- can operate an iPod touch (and not just by fluke)...she can start it up and open her favourite game)

- doesn't care for TV, but she loves her some Elmo movies

- sleeps until 9:00am, goes to bed at 9:00pm

- favourite food = carrots and poppy seed dressing, grapes and yogurt

- is terrified of our family doctor, even though he is extremely gentle (she's hated him ever since he tried to look in her ears at her one year check-up)...Sister screams as soon as we start walking down the hall to his office and doesn't stop until we leave (good times, I tell you)

- loves her "baby"...feeding it, dressing it, putting it to sleep

*****

After supper, Kat likes to strip down and hang out in the kitchen. I'm hoping her affinity for being topless doesn't lead her to a career in that area.

Enjoying a walk on a cold, fall day (Sister also doesn't like to wear mittens)

One of the last pairs of one-piece pjs she'll wear...they don't make them in extra tall sizes!

A pretty little kitty cat

A summer fairy dress with leggings and winter boots...this kid has style :)

Well, hello Terrible Twos...I've been wondering when you were going to show up

The Most Inappropriate Memorial Song Ever

2011-11-03T23:35:00.000-06:00

Excuse me
But I might drink a little bit more than I should tonight
And I might take you home with me if I could tonight
And I think you should let me cause I look good tonight
And we might not get tomorrow

Tonight I will love love you tonight
Give me everything tonight
For all we know we might not get tomorrow
Let's do it tonight
I will love love you tonight
Give me everything tonight
For all we know we might not get tomorrow
Lets do it tonight

The above lyrics are from Pitbull's "Give Me Everything Tonight". The song talks about getting drunk and taking someone home with you.

This song reminds me of my grandfather.

That's a solid seventy-two on an ickiness scale of one to ten.

Allow me to explain...my grandpa passed away on a Saturday morning in July. Because the funeral was going to be delayed (due to the pastor being away on holidays), our family headed up to the lake on the following Tuesday. After our bags were unpacked, I grabbed the iPod and the keys to the quad to head out on the trail. The sun was shining, a warm breeze was blowing and I was cruising along. This song began to play and I started to bop along with the beat.

And then the words, "We might not get tomorrow" were sung and I had to pull over because I couldn't see through my tears. In that instant, the reality that my grandpa was really gone punched me in the gut. Of course, I had cried when I got the phone call that Saturday, but when we got to the lake...that's where I felt his absence the most. In the 32 years I've been alive, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been at the lake and my grandparents weren't there.

To sum up...when I hear Pitbull, I think of my grandpa. It's the first time in my life that I'm thankful our local radio station plays the crap out of any song that's popular.

Musings Fit For A Monday

2011-10-31T02:02:00.000-06:00

* I did a trade show for Sweet Baby K on Saturday. I had attended this same trade show last year and it was beyond busy. This year? Not so much. It was so slow, I had time to get through the first 100 pages of my new book. Mind you, I can read 420 words a minute so that's, like, what? Five minutes worth of reading? Anyways, it was a good trial run for my BIG show coming up this weekend. On the upside, I won the 50/50 at the end of the day, so it wasn't all for naught.

* November is shaping up to be a very busy month for me. Between all the regular running around, trade shows and whatnot, we also have Kat's eye surgery on the 21st. It is a very minor procedure...just getting her tear duct un-blocked. BUT she has to be completely knocked out so you're looking at one very nervous Mama here. From birth, she has had continual eye goop/infections and a constantly runny eye. Our doc said it would hopefully clear up by the time she was 12 months, but it didn't.

* Kat's language has completely exploded over these last few weeks. Not only is she learning new words everyday, she is also starting to say short sentences. As I was putting away her laundry last night, Kat was spinning circles behind me. As I turned towards her closet, Kat was just completing her eighteenth rotation when she bounced her face off my butt. During the hang time in between her getting a mouthful of cellulite and hitting the floor, she had enough time to say, "Oh no! What happen?". We both had to pick ourselves up off the floor after we were finished giggling.

* On Sunday afternoon, Mike went into the basement to change the laundry. As he came back upstairs, he could smell something burning. He wanted me to go down and investigate. At first, I was suspicious that he had cut a good one and was trying to trick me into smelling it (yes, we're immature like that). As soon as I opened the door to the basement, I realized it wasn't a joke. Something was definitely burning. We ventured downstairs together to try and find the source. We pinpointed it to one area of the basement.
Upon further investigation, we realized the wiring to one of our fluorescent lights was burning/melting. There was black, stinky tar dripping all over the inside of the light fixture. Mike was attempting to remove the entire fixture from the ceiling and, being a man, decided to proceed without cutting the power. I was holding one end of the metal fixture when, all of a sudden, we were both covered in a shower of sparks. I, being a woman, screamed and dropped my end of the fixture. Mike was the only one to receive a jolt from the current, but thankfully it wasn't too bad (unlike the time my dad shocked himself while fixing the outlet behind our microwave and was hopping around our kitchen shouting, "I'm okay! I'm okay! I can't see anything, but I'm okay!"). All I can say is that I am beyond thankful that this electrical short didn't happen while we were out of the house for the evening!

It's A Go

2011-10-26T23:18:00.000-06:00

Mike and Joel went to Saskatoon today for Joel's yearly check up. Or maybe it's twice a year that he goes. I lose track sometimes. Anyways, they head down to the Kinsmen Children's Centre so the physical therapist can check Joel's flexibility, range of motion and so on. Actually, before going to the Kinsmen, they go to the hospital to have x-rays done on his hips and spine. Then, it's to Wendy's for lunch and THEN to the Kinsmen. After seeing the physical therapist, they meet with the doctor. I don't know whether she's a pediatrician or what her specialty is, but she's been seeing Joel since he was born.

Over the last couple of years, Joel's spine has slowly been twisting aka he's been developing scoliosis. The doc has kept her eye on it, but has put off surgery. Joel started wearing a back brace a few years ago, in hopes that would stave off any further twisting. Unfortunately, his spine is still trying to get down with Chubby Checker.

So, today the doc said surgery is now a must. Joel will have to undergo a six hour surgery to have two steel rods inserted into his back. It will mean at least a week in the hospital (in Saskatoon) and lengthy recovery time. He's already had two surgeries on his legs, so this kid knows that hospitals = pain.

As Mike was recapping to me all that the doctor had said, he was picking at the ends of his fingers. That is Mike's "tell" that he's nervous. And he has every right to be. The doctor told him that one out of every hundred kids doesn't survive the surgery. A one percent chance is still a chance. The odds of Joel ending up with cerebral palsy were slim and yet he has it. The odds of Joel ending up with optic nerve damage during his last leg surgery were slim. He ended up blind in his right eye. So telling Mike that there's only a one percent chance of Joel dying is of absolutely no comfort to him.

But not having the surgery is not an option. If Joel's spine continues to twist (and it will), then his internal organs will slowly be shifted and crushed. Not so much a comfortable alternative.

Joel's surgery will be scheduled for sometime early in the new year. In the meantime, I'm going to start stocking up on sedatives for Mike. He's going to need something to get him through that week.

Curb Your Language

2011-10-26T02:15:00.001-06:00

Kat is at that point in her development where she wants to copy EVERYTHING I do. It's like having a miniature mirror following me around...it's kinda spooky, actually. If I'm wearing a watch, she wants to wear one. If I have two pigtails in, she wants two pigtails. If I touch my nose, etcetera etcetera. But it's not just physical movements that she's copying...it's also words. I think she was a parrot in her previous life because she is phenomenal when it comes to mimicking sounds. And she's already pronouncing a lot of her digraphs correctly...th, sh, ch and so on. The kid's a dang genius in my eyes :)

All of this copying is fantastic and wonderful until I stub my toe or spill a drink. That's the point when a swear word comes out of my mouth, followed shortly by a higher pitched version of the same word coming out of Kat's mouth. Naturally, this has led to my trying to be creative with expletives. I consider myself to be a very creative person, but for some reason, I just can't swap out my favourite swears for kid-friendly versions. Honestly...the best I've come up with so far is, "Holy Helen shit" (and that's pretty good to have at least one non-swear word compared to the lengthy string of curse words that can normally come out of this mouth).

I've been a swearer for a large part of my life. However, like my burping and farting abilities, I am able to put a cap on it and only use them at appropriate times. I rarely swear in front of my parents (only if a certain word adds to the funny-ness of a story). It's really only at home that I let my inner sailor out. There are times when I accentuate my swear words with another swear word...that's how good I am.

I desperately need to substitute the real swear words for something more "G" rated before Kat picks up on it. The last thing I need is her letting out a great big, "OH F@#K!" at daycare when she spills her paint.

On a side note, there is no substitute for a good F-bomb when you stub your toe. Hopping around shouting, "Oh, fudgecakes!" just does not heal the toe quite like the F-word does.

On another side note, I can only imagine the picture of me that's developing in some of your minds now that you know I like to burp, fart and swear. I am nothing but one big cellulite-filled ball o' class, I tell you :)

Dancing With Herself

2011-10-25T00:34:00.000-06:00

There's no denying that Kat loves to dance. She will dance to any music...rock, pop, classical, country. She doesn't discriminate (although when I catch her dancing to Nickelback, I put an immediate end to it - that crap is NOT music). Kat loves to dance so much that she will even dance when there is no music...just sounds. Like when we're out walking and she hears wind chimes, that's all she needs to throw her arms in the air and start waving them like she just don't care. She also thinks a really loud motorbike makes a good beat and she'll bop up and down and snap her chubby, little fingers.

I forget that I'm not FB friends with everyone who reads my blog and that my blog readers don't get to see the pics/videos I post of Kat on FB. So here is the latest video of Kat and her dancing...my favourite part is the dance she does while wearing the pink sweats and striped shirt.

Sh!t My Spouse Says: The New Wife Edition

2011-10-24T00:29:00.000-06:00

Husband and wife are discussing the possibility of he/she remarrying should one of them unfortunately die.

Wife: Do you think you'd ever find love again?

Husband: I dunno. It would be tough to find someone like you.

Wife: How long do you think you would wait to start dating after I die?

Husband: Oh, I'd be bringing a date to your funeral.

Wife: Real nice.

Catching Up

2011-10-18T22:26:00.000-06:00

These last two weeks just feel like they've been go go GO! for me. Between family life, work, Sweet Baby K and managing my parents' properties, the days have been filled with non-stop activity. And I like it. It is WAY more fun to be busy than it is to lay under the covers and cry all day.

****
I have been working my arse off for Sweet Baby K, both in advertising and preparing for two upcoming trade shows. Last year, my first ever trade show was in the basement of the local library and I was all, "Woo hoo! I'm in the big leagues now!" (because I didn't know any different). After navigating my way through the trade show circuit last year and the early part of this fall, I've realized that first little trade show was extremely small potatoes compared to what I'm up for this year. Sweet Baby K was invited to be a part of the Focus on Christmas show at our local exhibition grounds and, to me, this is HUGE. I get my own booth...not just a six foot table!

So, in order to fill this booth, I have been creating headbands and hair clips like a mad woman. The upside is that this means I get to shop for more product and there's nothing I love more than online shopping!

****
We are finally bringing in home care for Joel. They will come twice a day - in the morning to get him ready for school (dressed, washed up, fed etc) and then again at bedtime. Our mornings/evenings are demanding more from us and we will definitely benefit from the extra time. And, quite honestly, we've literally wiped his ass for the last 16 years. I would say we're due for a break, wouldn't you?

Also Kat has started going to a day home on Wednesdays and Thursdays (the days that I work). The woman has a 16 month old son and two other part time toddlers, so there is LOTS of individual attention. Plus, we only pay per day that Kat is there. I had looked at other day homes, but I don't feel like paying for 15 days a month if Kat would only be there for eight. And I get that it's a source of income for some people, but I also don't like the idea of having to sign a contract or give a month's notice if we were leaving. She's my daughter, not a f@#king rental unit.

****
I chopped all my hair off again. When I want something, I want it done yesterday. Today at lunch, I was trying to decide whether to go to the doctor about this troublesome corn on my foot or to go get my hair did. The hair won. Back in March, I cut a whopping ten inches off my hair. The cut was up to my chin. Today, I got the same cut and the grand total of inches taken off was five. That's only seven months worth of growth, people. That is some speedy hair! I'm just thankful my chin hair doesn't grow at the same rate.

****
When I got home from the salon, I wanted to hop in the shower quick, to rinse off all the stray hairs BUT I didn't want to wreck my new do. I scavenged under my sink to see if I had an errant shower cap hiding in there, but no such luck. I figured a plastic shopping bag would do just as good of a job.

I stripped off my clothes and began attempting to tie the plastic bag over my hair. Because the handles were so short (read: because my head is the size of a beach ball), the bag wouldn't stay put on my forehead and kept slipping down passed my chin. It was at this point that Mike came out of Joel's room and walked passed the bathroom, just in time to see me completely bare-assed, trying to tie a plastic bag over my face. Through the foggy plastic, I turned in Mike's direction to see him slowly back away while shaking his head.

His only comment was, "I never would have married you if I knew you were into weird shit like that".

Resistance

2011-10-14T09:49:00.000-06:00

I like to think I'm "down" with most things, technology wise. I'm a whiz on the computer and I'm the one that sets up our TVs, phones etc. This being said, I have a love/hate relationship with technology. I love that it can keep us completely connected, but at the same time, I hate how it's taking over our lives and eliminating certain aspects. Here's my POV on a view current technological trends:

e-Books
I will never own an e-reader thing. While it may appear to be handy to have 500 books stored in a small tablet, I have no need to have 500 books at my finger tips. Also, I like the feel of having a book in my hands, being able to flip the pages. I like the smell of new books. I like having a bookcase with books on it. I like using bookmarks. I like that my enjoyment of a book isn't dependent on batteries. Or whether the sun is glaring off the screen, making the words illegible.

Children's Toys
I try to stay away from toys that require batteries. When Kat was an infant, non-electronic toys were tough to find. I preferred toys that squeaked or rattled, rather than the ones with flashing lights and music. Yes, we do have a play kitchen that talks, a kid's laptop and a few other electronic toys, but the majority of her toys don't shake, rattle, roll and sing. She has blocks, balls, play food, vintage Fisher Price sets and so on. And you know what? She prefers these toys. The ones that run on batteries get boring to her very quickly because there's limited things she can do with them.

Children's Reading Aids
Kat will learn how to read the good old fashion way - reading aloud to me. I will be the one to help her sound out words. I will be the one to help her with the alphabet, letter sounds, short vowels etc. I don't want a little electronic device with a tinny voice telling her what to do. If she wants to listen to a story and follow along in a book, it won't be a v-tech screen in front of her...it will be a tape recorder, headphones and waiting for the chime so she knows it's time to turn the page.

Cell Phones
While we own a cell phone, we rarely use it. It's an old-school flip open phone (gasp!) and it's one perk is that it has a camera (which we never use). We don't have internet on it and there's no GPS or restaurant finder (double gasp!). We don't even text. We have a pay-as-you-go plan. In total, I think our cell phone costs us maybe $80 a year. The only time we really use it is when one of us is going out of town.

I have no desire to upgrade to an iPhone 73 or whatever they're at now. I don't want people to be able to reach me whenever, wherever. I watch other people texting (while driving, standing in line, waiting for the doctor etc.) and I just think, "What the hell is so important that you need to text back and forth six or seven times about?". If it's about picking something up on the way home, a simple, "Buy milk" should be suffice. If you have a funny story to share, can't it wait until you see each other face to face?

Facebook
Although I am on Facebook, I rarely post status updates. If I do, I try to make it funny. I don't post cryptic messages ("What do I do now?!?") and try to bait people into responding. Our lack of using a cell phone ties in with this, in that I don't care to constantly post about where I am and what I'm doing. I do not have a burning desire to let people know I'm at a certain store or what I'm doing at any given moment. As I'm typing, I'm realizing that it comes down to privacy - I don't want the entire world knowing what I'm doing and where I'm doing it ("Buying peaches at Safeway...yum!"). Who the eff cares?

DTVR
I don't even know if that's the right acronym for it...the recording/pausing/rewinding live TV thing? Again, we will never own one of these things. We don't have a use for it. If I miss a program, I simply watch it on the computer. Our iMac screen is the size of a small TV anyways, so it's pretty much the same thing. And I'm not paying any extra on my cable/phone bill :)

****
Well, that about covers my rant on electronics :) I just want to point out that I don't judge anyone who uses any or all of these things. The point of this post was simply my point of view and my resistance to some technology :)

Happy Friday, everyone!

How I Know

2011-10-10T23:44:00.001-06:00

The other day, while shopping in my new favourite store for catheter supplies, Catheter Man had a display of blood-filled needles by the register. Intrigued, but not disgusted, I picked one up to discover it was a pen. Because I'm in there every second day ~~to ogle His Hotness~~ pick up supplies for Joel, he told me to just help myself to a pen. I took two so I could throw one of them in the playground behind my house.

Having this needle/pen in the house for the last few days has stirred up memories from three years ago, when we were gearing up for our first IVF run. Needles, pills, tests, blood work, daily trips to Saskatoon, crazy-ass hormones...fun times, I tell you. When I'm at the pharmacy and I catch a glimpse of the "Family Planning" section, it makes me wistful for those women who have it easier. The ones who can chart their ovulation with their basal temperature or with those ovulation pee sticks and then just go get it on and hope to get pregnant.

If I didn't need a hospital to get pregnant, I know I wouldn't be one of those women who need to resort to thermometers or pee sticks to chart their ovulation because I know the instant it happens. And just how do I know?

Because it's the instant Mike turns into a complete asshole.

It's true. It's not as though Mike does or says anything differently. He acts in the same way he always has, with his gentle, patient, loving manner. But when I start to ovulate, it changes the way I look at him and suddenly he's a spineless, weak doofus who can't even open the fridge door properly. I feel as though I have to teach him everything all over again - from how to load the dishwasher or properly park the van in the driveway. I'm pretty sure I've even corrected him on how to scratch his own nuts.

The poor guy just can't win when I'm experiencing my "sensitive time". It doesn't help the fact that I like to keep him on his toes by randomly yelling out, "You're doing it wrong!", even if I'm in the basement and can't see what he's doing. I can just sense that the glass of milk is being poured incorrectly, so it justifies my crazy shouts from below.

And God help us if we have to go anywhere important together. Like a Thanksgiving family supper where we have to be dressed nicely and show up on time. I can honestly say that is the first time I have ever needed a cigarette half way through a meal.

This Moment: The Funny Face Edition

2011-10-07T01:49:00.001-06:00

This moment – a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember...

The "I Don't Want What You're Trying To Give Me" Face

The "I'm Too Cute To Possibly Get Into Trouble" Face

The "Noooooooo!" Face

Remind Me To Do That NEVER Again...

2011-10-03T00:12:00.005-06:00

I was really looking forward to this past Saturday. My cousin was getting married, just outside of Saskatoon and all of my dad's family (from Calgary) was going to be there. My visits with them are few and far between, so I was excited at the chance to see them all in one room. Whenever I attend a wedding, I like to pamper myself the morning of the big event - almost like it's my special day all over again :) I had plans to paint my toenails, give myself a manicure, shave my moustache...you know, the essentials. I was in the midst of shaving that tricky spot (you know...right under your nose where your nose hairs get tangled in with your facial hair), when I received an email from a friend. She said she was in town and really wanted to see me. That was the beginning of the downward slide of what turned into a horrible, no-good, rotten day.

If this friend wasn't currently going through a nasty divorce, I would have said "Not today, sweetie". But I felt like I couldn't turn her away. I did give her the heads up that I had to leave at 3:00pm and I would need an hour or so before that to get ready. I attempted to put Kat down for a nap before my friend showed up. Kat only laid in her crib for about 15 minutes before Shandi barked and announced my friend's arrival. Kat was promptly wide awake and ready to party.

Throughout the visit, I tried and tried and TRIED to get Kat to go back to sleep, but she was having none of it. She is a surprisingly stubborn little girl and she was able to thwart off all of my attempts...including when I pressed my thumbs down on her wind pipe. Two o'clock came and went and my friend showed no signs of leaving. I love her dearly, but I had to put an end to our discussion. Time was ticking and I really wanted Kat to nap for a little bit before we left.

Kat happily laid in her crib while I got ready, but she did not sleep. We hit the road on time and I figured Kat would fall asleep on the way. Nope. Little Miss "Screw You And Your Expectations of Me Napping" stayed awake for the entire drive (including my getting lost on the way from Warman to Langham...stupid country roads with crappy signage).

Within ten minutes of showing up at the reception, I was ready to leave. I didn't want to ruin my parents' evening by having them chase after Kat, but I also didn't feel like running around after her by myself. You plop a two year old who has had zero sleep into a roomful full of new people and a bunch of other kids and you've got a recipe for disaster. Sister was going ape-shit bananas...squealing, jumping, running and twirling.

I caught her by the arm as she whizzed by me (presumably on her way to the parking lot to smoke with her new friends) and tried to take her to the bathroom to change her diaper. I have never heard such an ear-shattering scream come from something so little. I clamped my hand over her mouth and whisked her away.

I knew she was beyond tired and I wanted her to nap. Only problem was that I had no stroller, no blanket and no where to lay her down once she did fall asleep. I ended up barricading myself into the darkened coat room, grabbed a chair cover from an unused chair and started to sing "The Ants Go Marching". Kat was writhing so much, she looked like "The Exorcist". My favourite part was when she started screaming, "Stop! Stop!", as if I was actually torturing her. Awesome time for her to learn a new word.

We stayed huddled in the coat room until half way through the supper. By that point, I had given up and was ready to hit the small town bar. I heated up Kat's supper, grabbed a plate of food and plunked down at a table with the photographer. I did not feel like sitting at my assigned table and trying to make chit-chat with my cousins. Trying to carry on a conversation with your two-year old in the near vicinity is impossible so I figured, "Why bother?".

After supper was the start of the two hour program. Two whole hours. Now, I am not that parent that lets her kid run around, make noise and be distracting at inappropriate times "because she's SO cute!" so we went and hid in the coat room for the remainder of the evening. Yup....just me, Kat, the ring bearer and the snottiest little flower girl I've ever met. Good times. The other two kids were jumping in and out of a pair of car seats that obviously didn't belong to them. At that point, I didn't give a shit about much of anything and I wasn't about to discipline them. Carry on, kidlings, carry on.

Finally, at 10:15pm, they started to make preparations for the dance to begin. The dance was a huge factor in my wanting to attend. Kat is a dancing machine and I was excited to see her cut a rug in the middle of the floor. Unfortunately, by that time I had had enough and all I wanted to do was get a coffee and hit the road. I hugged the bride good-bye, strapped Kat into her car seat and got the H out of there. Would you believe that Kat didn't sleep on the way home? Girl had been up since 9:00am and finally FINALLY! at 12:10, she fell asleep (ten minutes away from home).

After reading this, from an outsider's point of view, you might think, "Wound up kid, little bit crazy...so, what's the big deal?". It was just the combination of everything....not being able to pamper myself in the morning, Kat not napping, not being assigned to sit with my parents so they could help me feed Kat, not wanting to ruin their evening, not being able to chat with dad's family, getting lost (twice) on the way to the reception and so on. It just all adds up to being a super frustrating day that didn't turn out at all how I had hoped. I will NEVER take a young child to a wedding again...completely and utterly pointless.

The following pictures are the only ones I took at the wedding. After the first one, they pretty much speak for themselves.

This was the exact moment the whiny little flower girl popped Kat's balloon...the one that I brought in from the van for Kat because there were no balloons at the wedding.
This was also the moment I nearly punched a four year old girl.

New wedding game..."Hog Tie The Devil Child"

"You see, Kat, if this behaviour keeps up, you will be a loser with a capital L for the rest of your life..."
(I'm not positive, but there's a good chance she's biting Grandpa's thumb there)

Attitude, much?

What Breaks My Heart

2011-09-28T22:48:00.001-06:00

Mike's dad passed away on Monday morning. As sad as that may sound, the thing that weighs heavy on my heart is the fact that Mike is not going to the funeral. I just can't stop thinking, "But that's your DAD, for God's sake". But I guess you could say there are good? reasons behind it.

You see, each fall Mike and a bunch of the men in his family take an annual fishing trip up north. His stepdad, Gary, was the central part of each trip. He did all the planning, grocery shopping and cooking. Gary died unexpectedly last October, which makes this year's trip all the more important. Mixed in with the fishing and the laughs will be quiet moments of remembering Gary and paying to tribute to him. This year's trip is this weekend, which is now the same weekend as Mike's dad's funeral.

It just breaks my heart that the relationship between Mike and his dad became so non-existent that attending the funeral isn't a priority. It breaks my heart to think about when Mike was born, it's not as though his dad was thinking, "My beautiful son...I can't wait to let our relationship fall to shit; to abandon you, your brother and your mother; and to barely talk to you when you're older. I look forward to making you and your brother somehow feel responsible for the lack of our relationship when, really, that responsibility lies with me. I hope to someday not be invited to your wedding because of the lackluster role I play in your life. I can't wait to find out that I have a granddaughter...a year after she's born. Yes, my beautiful baby boy, that is what I dream". No, he obviously wasn't thinking that, but that's how things played out.

And now, on Saturday, a man will be laid to rest without his sons or his grandchildren by his graveside to pay their respects.

How utterly heartbreaking.

A Question Answered

2011-09-27T00:00:00.014-06:00

I have received a few queries about a missing post as of late, so I thought I would take this opportunity to address the circumstances around it. I received many emails containing cries of injustice, but this one was the most poignant:

Dear JT,
Last week, I read an amazing post you wrote about the art of farting. It was the most brilliant piece of comedic writing I have ever read. I returned to your website in the afternoon because I wanted to forward the link on to the Nobel Peace Prize committee because I think if that post was read to nations that are at war, it would bring about world peace. If it was read in hospitals, it would cure the ill. If it was read to the homeless, it would end poverty. If it was read in third world countries, it would be enough sustenance to end world hunger.

Where, oh, where did that masterpiece go?

Signed,

The World Will Never Be The Same

Okay, so I might be embellishing just a tad on the email, but I did have several people ask where it went. For those of you that missed it, I wrote a post about my, ahem, fondness for passing gas. So, why did it get deleted?

In the days leading up to that post, I had been conversing with a woman in Saskatoon who runs a mommy group. I had approached her to see if she was interested in having me come in and talk about my experience with post-partum ~~depression~~ everything. I ended up emailing her a link to this post (where I first talked about it) so she could have a heads up on what I'm going to say. The coordinator then asked me if she could share the link to my blog with her mommy group. I said, "Of course".

At some point that evening, it completely slipped my mind that my blog was being shared in a, somewhat, professional capacity and I went ahead and posted about my fever for flatulence. The post was up for less than a day when I realized all these potential listeners would be reading about my taste for tooting and when I finally get the chance to speak to them, I did NOT want them thinking that I was standing up there, letting 'em rip. Thus, the post was promptly deleted.

My apologies to those who missed it. And, actually, to those of you who did read it as well :)

On a side note, Mike and I were discussing organ donation last night. When trying to decide whether to donate for transplantation or for medical education, Mike suggested I donated my anus to science because, in his words, "that is some unnatural shit you got going on down there and it needs to be researched by science".

Awwww....thanks, Babe. I love you too.

Creepiest Kijiji Encounter EVER

2011-09-26T00:07:00.004-06:00

On Friday, I came across an ad on Kijiji for Proactiv and I knew I needed to snap it up. I've been wanting to try it on Joel for awhile, but I didn't want to commit to paying monthly installments if it wasn't going to work. Had I known I was about to meet the Klopeks in real life, I would have brought my video camera with me.

As if Joel doesn't have enough crap to deal with, the poor guy is saddled with horrible acne. We do the best we can to make sure we're washing his face, but there are days when it gets left out of the routine. We have tried Oxypads, special soaps, cleansers and acne cream (which I wrote "Ass" over top of the "Acne" on the tube just to mess with Joel), but there is no miracle cure. However, late night TV tells me that Proactiv is as close as you can get to a miracle, so I figured, "Why not?".

When I received a response to my inquiry as to whether or not the Proactiv was still available, I let the horrible spelling/grammar slide. I am too often appalled at people's lack of pride when they correspond through email, but I try not to pre-judge people based on this.

When I received the address for where to pick up the item, again, I tried to not judge the person because of where they lived (it was on one of the crack-iest streets in PA and I'm not referring to potholes).

When I pulled up in front of the house, I tried to not let the overgrown weeds, Canadian flag for a living room curtain or the couch on the lawn affect my judgement.

And then I knocked on the door. And, no word of a lie, the little door knocker thing fell off. For any of you who have seen "The Burbs", you'll know that I half expected a swarm of bees to fly out at any moment.

The door opened only an inch and, given the bright shining sun outside and the lack of lighting inside, I could not see who/what was standing inside. The door opened a little wider and there was an, "Ah?" that came from inside. I put on an overly perky smile and asked, "Is Doyle here? I'm here to pick up an item off Kijiji."

The door closed.

I stood on the steps, with Katelyn wriggling in my arms (I think she could sense the evil seeping out of the house), debating whether I had written down the wrong address. I glanced back at Shandi, who was waiting in the van, and wondered if I should just leave.

The door opened again.

A solitary arm extended out into the day, holding a white and green box.

I had no idea whether Doyle was a man or a woman. I set the box down on the step and started to dig through my purse. The arm retracted into the house and the door closed, but not tightly. I continued rooting through my purse, found my wallet and pulled out the money. Somehow, Evil must have been watching (perhaps through the newly formed hole in the door) because the door slowly opened at the same time that I found the money.

The arm extended out once more.

I placed the bills in the hand and shouted, "Thank you" into the dark void.

And then I ran as fast as my fat legs would carry me (more of a quick waddle, really) before Evil had a chance to chase me down and demand my soul.

Like I said, creepiest Kijiji encounter. Ever.

This Moment: The Baking Edition

2011-09-23T12:38:00.000-06:00

This moment – a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember...

Kat helping me bake raisin cookies...our first of many more baking times to come :)

Here, There Or Somewhere Else?

2011-09-20T00:01:00.000-06:00

So, Mike and I have been staring at our world map downstairs, trying to figure out where to go. For now, we have it narrowed down to two choices: Hawaii or Germany/Italy. It is a REALLY tough decision (I know...boo hoo to me and my First World problems, right?).

If we pick Hawaii, I envision it being two weeks of sun, sand, and surf while sipping on fancy drinks with umbrellas in them. Even with a two year old, it would still be a relaxing vacation. If we pick Germany/Italy, it definitely won't be as relaxing, but it would be much more meaningful. For starters, Mike would finally get to see my sister's estate. They are farmers, but farmers in Germany are NOT like farmers in SK (ie struggling). To say their house is massive is an understatement (four of our houses could easily fit inside theirs). Their house used to belong to a baron...when he owned it, the front entrance was a covered drive through that the horses could walk in to drop off the passengers. I can barely fit a small, decorative table in my front entrance. But I'm getting away from the point of this post...deciding.

So, not only would we visit my sister, but it would also mean that I finally get to meet my friend, Valeria (she hasn't posted many photos since she returned to work earlier this year). We met through my blog and became instant friends. We've exchanged parcels through the mail and had many lovely Skype conversations. Valeria loves to hear about Canada (and I about Italy) and is fascinated at how anyone can survive in -50 temperatures!! We are a tough breed :)

On top of all of this, we would also travel to Pompeii. I have been fascinated with this city since I read a short story in grade six about a boy and his dog being buried in the ash. I think it would be amazing to stand on that ground.

Hawaii = relaxing, but not meaningful.

Europe = meaningful, but not at all relaxing (there would be a LOT of travel in those two weeks).

I really appreciate the comments and suggestions that you left on the previous post. We have some more figuring out to do, but we are appreciative that we are able to do this :)

Happy Tuesday everyone :)

Where Would You Go?

2011-09-14T07:07:00.000-06:00

I need some help...if you were given a free, 10 day trip to anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?

My parents always had the vision of being able to take their children on a world vacation someday. Ideally, they had hoped to take us all together, but the logistics of getting all four of our schedules to mesh up just isn't happening. So, the next best thing is to take each family on a trip to anywhere they want to go.

How on earth do I even decide? Hawaii is high up on my list. Vegas is at the top of Mike's (not a chance, honey). So, I put it out there to you...where would you go and what draws you to that location?

Happy Wednesday everyone!

Why I Do It

2011-09-13T01:48:00.000-06:00

A reader recently asked me why I blog...why do I put so much of my private life out there, for the unknown public to read (my apologies to you, N, for taking so long to respond to this :) I've been chewing over that question for a little while now, trying to come up with an answer.

I thought back to my original intentions for starting this blog. I value humour and it is a daily part of life in this house and, over the years, I have often commented to Mike that we should have our own reality show (I'm nothing, if not humble). Since I didn't think any TV producers were scouting PA for talent, I figured blogging would be a close second.

These are the reasons that I have come up with:

I blog because I love to write.
I blog because I love to tell stories.
I blog to share the funny interactions between my husband and I.
I blog because I enjoy the community that goes along with it.
I blog because I love to make people laugh.

That's pretty much it. No more, no less.

To answer the second part of the question (why do I put so much of my private life out there), I guess I would have to say that I don't put everything out there. The way I keep my blog in check is by asking myself whether I would my parents to know/read about this. My parents are not regular readers of my blog, but I know they look at it from time to time. That's the reason why I will never post about anything intimate between Mike and I (as far as I'm concerned, everyone in my family is a virgin...we do NOT talk about sex). I also try to avoid talking about parenting issues/struggles/frustrations. I do what I feel is right for Kat and I don't want to put myself out there to be judged on my parenting skills.

I hope that answers your question, N :)

Ciao for now.

The New Family Pic

2011-09-11T23:38:00.001-06:00

Well, would you look at that...I actually made it into the family picture (although my brother did suggest that I, as the photographer, should be given the middle of the back row, thus forcing me to leap over the back of the couch...my back just wasn't up for another action shot).

A Busy Week

2011-09-09T01:29:00.000-06:00

It's funny how my blog can remain quiet, but the reasons behind the quietness shifts. A few months ago, no posts meant I was likely hiding under my covers, hoping the world would go f@#k itself. I didn't want to talk to anyone, much less share about my life with the internets.

Fast forward to this month and things are the complete opposite. I'm feeling so flippin' fantastic that I don't have time to sit down and blog. I returned back to work this week (after it was suggested that I take the summer off due to my shitty work performance from January to June of this year) and it felt completely different than when I left...different, in a good way. I'm actually enjoying being there and I'm actually motivated - two key things I wasn't experiencing earlier this year. When I started back in January, on my second shift there was a kerfuffle in the classroom that left me in tears. That should have been an indicator that I wasn't ready to be back at work. This time around? My second day in the classroom only left me with a chipped tooth courtesy of a breath mint. I'll take broken teeth over crying in front of my co-workers any day :)

We welcomed my sister home last Thursday...she's visiting from Germany for ten days. We spent the long weekend up at the lake and it was a great mixture of relaxing, reading, visiting and, of course, eating. We're heading to Saskatoon on Saturday for my favourite event ever...having my whole family together. Even if it's just for lunch, it means the world to me when all of my siblings are in one room. Maybe we can re-create this photo from last year - I accidentally set the self-timer for two second delay and, despite a valiant effort on my part, I didn't quite make it back to my spot before the picture. Best. family. photo. ever.

The rest of the photos are from the lake...our last trip up there until next summer :)

Cuddling with Grandma on the deck

Enjoying the newly built deck on top of the newly built garage :)

Grandma and Kat watching the neighbors go by

Our last trip to the lake and Kat FINALLY decides she likes the water...yeesh.

The Night Oprah Brought Me My Grandfather

2011-09-06T04:05:00.001-06:00

It's 3:45am and I sit here typing, with tears streaming down my cheeks and the biggest smile on my face. I need to record this before I fall back asleep and possibly forget. Whether I hit "Publish" remains to be seen.

I don't often remember my dreams and, right now, I never want to forget the one from which I just awoke. It started off with my mother and I attending a recital at the local high school. At the end, my mom flipped out on the coordinators for false advertising, yet it was me who was hauled to the principal's office. After a very heated argument where I defended myself, I was hauled off to a secret location. I thought the local school board was going to "off" me.

I was sent to a house where there were six or seven other strangers (one of which was Heather Morris from "Glee" and I'm surprised I wasn't more excited to see her). The house was huge and I remember thinking, "I bet this is what Oprah's house looks like". As I was making my way to the bathroom, I walked passed a closet and out jumped Oprah herself (Gayle was in there as well which only leads me to speculate more about their closeted lesbian relationship, but that's not the point of this post).

I don't know what the purpose of Oprah's show was...all I know is that we got to change into silk pajamas and dine with her. The secret house wasn't far from my parents' house, so at one point, Oprah and I changed into scrubby clothes and began to walk down the street. When we got to my parents' house, everyone was already waiting and smiling. That's when I realized the high school recital was all part of the set-up for me to be on the Oprah show. I shared with O about my life as a stepmother and about my experience with post-partum depression. As we were getting ready to walk back to O's house, I had to change into a yellow shirt.

As we got to the front door of my mom and dad's house, there were more people standing on the lawn. And then it happened. My beautiful grandfather, with all of his health back and exactly as I want to remember him, came bounding up the front lawn. I looked around and no one else seemed surprised to see him, but they were all grinning from ear to ear. Grandpa strode over to me and grabbed me in one of his famous bear hugs and I began to cry. He even gave me one of his "missed" kisses...he always aimed for my cheek, but because I was taller, he would end up hitting my jawline, just below my ear. I began to cry as we hugged and hugged.

I woke up sobbing and my arms still felt warm from where I was hugging Grandpa. I have not had a dream like that in forever. Oprah really is an amazing woman...but as busy as she is, she still found the time to bring me back my Grandpa for one more hug :)

My OCD: Part One

2011-09-01T00:00:00.003-06:00

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is a combination of two things...obsessions and compulsions. The obsessions are the intrusive, IRRATIONAL, unwanted thoughts. The compulsions are the behaviours that follow the thoughts in an attempt to get rid of them. Example: Jane has OCD. She thinks that if she touches public door handles, she's going to get AIDS and die (there's your obsession part of it). She does her best to avoid door handles, but she accidentally brushes the back of her hand on one. When she gets home, she scrubs her hands with hot water and soap. After drying her hands, she still feels like the germs are on her hand so she scrubs them again. And again. And again. This is the compulsive part.

Germs are something that gross out a lot of people. Many do their best to not touch anything in a public washroom and most people try to avoid licking shopping cart handles. If, by chance, you were to touch the door handle of a public bathroom, it would likely gross you out. You would probably scrub your hands or maybe put on some hand sanitizer, but you'd be able to continue on your merry way.

With OCD, it's almost like a gear gets stuck in the thought process. Rather than explain, here's a handy little picture that sums it up nicely:

Make sense? A person with OCD can't just continue on after they're done the compulsion. The obsessive thoughts keep coming back and keep causing anxiety.

One misconception I had about OCD before I was diagnosed with it was that I thought it was all about either germs or flicking light switches. I had no idea how many sub-categories were under the OCD umbrella.

Myself? I definitely have fear of contamination, but it's somewhat selective. My anxiety is caused by the thought of "outside" germs contaminating the inside of my house. This means I can be in public, I can touch shopping cart handles, I can open doors, Kat can even SIT in shopping carts. My one big rule, though, is you don't touch your face in public (unless you've just washed your hands). I could touch a door handle that had someone's chewed gum stuck to it and not have a heart attack. BUT! if you asked me to touch my any part of my face after touching the gum...well, not a chance in France of that happening.

Once Kat and I return home, there's a decontamination process that we go through. We have our outside clothes and our inside clothes and they must never serve dual purpose. As soon as I walk in the door, I scrub my hands. Then, Kat is stripped of her clothes before she gets into her crib. I make sure NOT to touch her bare body against my outside clothes. Then, I go change into my inside clothes and return to put Kat in a new outfit. Only then is my world safe. Sort of.

I also have a fear of Joel's germs contaminating everything outside of his room. Yes...I know it sounds horrible, but I can't fix it (not yet, anyways). There are a lot of bodily fluids that come out of Joel...snot, drool and urine. Any of his possessions that might have any of these substances on them causes me HUGE amounts of anxiety. Mike knows that there is only one spot in the kitchen where Joel's items (drinking glasses, lunch bag etc.) are allowed to touch...they can sit on the stove. This way, I know that Kat's bottles and bowls aren't going to be contaminated. Again, I know this sounds like it might not make sense, but it's how my brain works.

During 99% of my interactions with Joel, I wear gloves. Feeding supper, giving drinks, washing hair, brushing teeth, changing his movies...I do it all with gloves on. In order to not make Joel feel self conscious, I do my best to make a joke out of why I put the gloves on...I snap them on my hands and tell him to bend over. Luckily, this gets him laughing and diverts his attention.

The anxiety over Joel's germs continues on into the dishwasher and the washing machine. There is NO way I could put a lot of our laundry in immediately following a load of Joel's urine-soaked pants. BUT if two or three days pass in between loads, then in my mind, the germs have dissipated and the washing machine is clean again. When loading the dishwasher, even though ALL the dishes are dirty, Joel's cups have their own spot on the rack. Are you seeing some of the irrational bit here?

Alas, fear of contamination is not the only form of OCD that I suffer, but I've prattled on long enough in this post. I'll save the really crazy shit for Post Two :)

Enjoy your long weekend everyone...my beautiful sister arrives from Germany tonight and we are off to the lake :)

A Graduation Of Sorts

2011-08-31T09:59:00.000-06:00

Yesterday marked a big moment for me. Almost two years ago to the day, I started seeing a counsellor for my ante-partum depression (three weeks into my pregnancy, I was slammed with suicidal thoughts and major bouts of depression). For the last two years, I have been seeing a wonderful, wonderful counsellor. I honestly don't think I would be alive today if it weren't for her and the tools with which she provided me. Yesterday was my last appointment with her. I am finally in a good place and I feel strong enough to stand on my own two feet :)

These last couple of months had some rocky bouts. I hit the wall in May and a lot of things fell apart BUT I had been monkeying around with my medication and lying about taking it when I wasn't. I was wanting to prove to myself that I'm better than meds and I don't need them. I now realize that a diabetic would never think that way and just hope that their pancreas would balance things out eventually. I can see now that I have a chemical imbalance in my brain and medication is necessary.

The depression hasn't so much been "cured", but I at least feel stable now. I have had consistently good days for all of August. Me being me, I can't help but question, "Why am I feeling so good?" and "How long is it going to last?". This last month has been fantastic. Kat and I have spent many an afternoon in her little pool. When she naps, I take a cold drink and a book to sit outside and read. We go for walks in the evening when the day cools off. When she goes to bed, I retreat to my office to fill orders for my business. I have been motivated to keep up with housework (Mike says the first sign I'm starting to feel like crap again is when the house completely goes to shit). I regularly knock things off my "to do" list. Like I said, it's been a fantastic month.

The one thing that I am not cured of is my obsessive compulsive disorder. I will do a post on the specifics of my OCD tomorrow. To lessen the OCD, I need to be on a higher dosage of my meds plus start exposure therapy. But we are hoping to add another little peanut to our family and I can't be on that high of a dosage while pregnant. So, I will have to live with the anxiety-inducing thoughts for the next little while, until our family is complete.

For now, it feels strange to not see my counsellor's name written on the calendar for our next appointment. As yesterday's appointment was coming to an end, I wasn't sure whether we should hug or not. Besides Mike, this woman knows more about me than anyone else on earth. There's definitely a bond that has to be in place for those types of things to be shared. While I don't miss the reason for the visits, I am surely going to miss talking with her.

To celebrate my return to the land of feeling normal (or as close as one can get), I'm going to treat myself to some peanut butter ice cream :)

Sale-in' Away

2011-08-27T01:16:00.000-06:00

Kat and I have had a nice little routine these last few weekends. Right after breakfast on Friday or Saturday (sometimes both), we head out and hit as many garage sales as we can before lunch. Most days, I only carry a max of $10 on me. More often than not, I come home with at least $8.00. It's a great way to spend a morning. Kat gets to say an enthusiastic, "Hi!" to every. single. person. she sees and I get to browse through people's old junk and see if I can find any toys from my childhood.

This morning, we actually ended up spending more than $10 (gasp!). We bought a ball for 10 cents, a square of puffed wheat cake for 25 cents, a jar of home made rhubarb/strawberry jam for $2.00, a Dean Koontz novel for 50 cents and a bookshelf for $9.00 (none of these items were purchased at the same sale...we did a fair amount of driving this morning).

Next Thursday marks my return to work so I am savoring these final few days of summer. Now, before anyone breaks out the pity party for me, I should mention that I'm still only working two days a week - Wednesdays and Thursdays. Life is so tough when you have mega-long weekends, every single weekend. Pardon me while I go dry my tears :)

Tomorrow, it is just us girls at home, since Joel is at his mom's and Mike is heading up north for the day to go fishing. The majority of our day will be spent shopping. I want to take Kat to the Farmer's Market in the morning, followed by some more garage sales.

I don't really have anything funny to say, so just imagine me making farting noises with a cupped hand in my armpit while Kat is in the background yelling, "Niiiiice!!".

It All Just Works Out

2011-08-24T11:53:00.000-06:00

I've said it before that I love my life. I love it how, in the end, things always seem to work out just the way I want/need them to. I won't go into details and give examples...the following post is proof enough :)

Last summer, I fell in love with a house that was for sale. It was in one of the new-ish neighborhoods and pretty much across the street from where Kat will eventually go to school. Just down the street from the house is a group home. When Joel is done school, the next step will be to have him live in a home. How perfect would it be to be able to just walk down the street, pick him up and bring him home for supper?

Besides the location, I fell in love with the house itself (obviously). It is a two story house with four bedrooms upstairs. The master bedroom is HUGE and runs the entire width of the house. It has a huge walk-in closet, a full master bath and a gorgeous bay window. The main floor has two living rooms, a dining room and an eat-in kitchen. The backyard has a massive covered deck, a completely fenced yard (a bonus for us because our current yard is not) and a dog run. The bonuses to this house just go on and on.

Before we could put in an offer, the house was pulled off the market. I have not been able to stop thinking about the house. From the moment I walked into it, I knew it would someday be mine. The only obstacle was getting the current owners to move out of it :) Throughout the year, I have been tempted many times to knock on the door and ask them if they want to sell, but each time I would chicken out.

Two weeks ago, through completely legitimate means, I was able to figure out who the owner is and obtain her email address (I don't feel like explaining it all right now). I took the plunge and emailed her to ask if she has thought about selling again. I waited on pins and needles for her response. Within hours, she messaged back to say YES! she has been thinking about selling but just wasn't sure. She took my email as a sign to push her in the direction she's been hesitant about...moving out east.

We emailed back and forth for a day or so and quickly realized we must be sisters separated at birth because we were on the same page about everything! We then took our relationship to the next level and became friends on FB. The day after that, we upped the anted to talking on the phone (to set up a day when I could go and tour through the house to see the changes she made). Four days after starting our "relationship", I went over to the house. I couldn't help but smile as we hugged each other, even though we didn't really know each other.

My dream house will hopefully be a reality before Christmas :) Like I said, I love the way things work out in my life. I get the things I truly want :)

A Week In Pictures

2011-08-17T01:27:00.000-06:00

Kat snuggling with Daddy after a bath

Teaching Kat some tips and tricks for healthy eating...there are no calories when you eat Cool Whip this way.

Kat with my niece, Isabella.

Celebrating my birthday. I would have held Kat for the pic, but she was busy being a tyrant in her high chair.

Daddy pointing at a squirrel on the fence.
Kat pointing at something shiny that caught her attention.

This kid LOVES to read (aka babble while holding a book).

Testing out the new sidewalk chalk.

Doing what we love...taking pictures of lightning.

Speedy Soul Searching

2011-08-15T22:50:00.001-06:00

It was suggested to me that I take this past summer off work. After returning to work in January, I realized I still wasn't close to being 100%. It was a rocky six months, with lots of ups and downs. I happily took the suggestion to take some time off. I had planned on finding some mindless job to fill my summer days, but I rarely got a call for an interview. Finally, last week I got a call.

But this interview wasn't for a mindless job. It was to be Community Developer with an early childhood organization. My responsibilities would have included working with families in small communities to see what they need to help their children grow up happy and healthy. The hours were flexible; I would get to wear "dress-up" clothes; I would have my own office and a work vehicle to drive. It all sounded wonderful.

If I do say so myself, I kicked ass during the hour and a half long interview. There were, of course, lots of laughs throughout the meeting. When asked what I thought my weaknesses were, I couldn't help but respond with, "Well, I've never been very good at sky-diving". It's the truth, but it didn't really apply to the job :)

The BIG downside to this job is that it pays half of what I'm currently making. That means, I would have to put in twice as much time to make the same amount. I tried to reason with myself that if I loved my job, the money wouldn't matter.

Over the weekend, I had decided to myself that I would stay at my current job. And then I got the call this morning to tell me I had the Community Developer job if I wanted it. I didn't say no right away. I needed a couple of hours to make my final decision. After many cups of coffee and a lot of re-writing pros and cons lists, I've decided to stay at my current job. My gut tells me it's the right thing to do. PLUS I have been feeling consistently fantastic these last few weeks. My meds are working awesome and I haven't felt this stable in a LONG time. Things will be different this time around.

I hate big decisions. Hell, I hate little decisions (like whether or not to go to the lake for the weekend...yah, real stressful you First World crybaby). Decisions equal stress and stress and I don't mix very well. Stress causes me to do silly things like mix rum in my morning coffee and chug it like a frat boy. When you add a time crunch to big decisions (the interviewer had to know by tonight), I get even sillier. Every time I felt myself getting flustered and worked up, I would randomly lift up my tank top and flash Mike. It was win-win...I got stress relief and Mike got a free show.

I'm glad the decision has been made. My fingers are now crossed that it was the right one.

Sh!t My Spouse Says: The Puzzle Edition

2011-08-14T20:01:00.000-06:00

Wife is busy building the outside frame of a puzzle. All is completed except for one missing piece.

Wife: Babe! Come help me look for this one stupid puzzle piece!

Husband: Have you checked between your boobs yet?

Wife: What? Why? What?

Husband: Well, everything else seems to end up in there.

Wife: Nice.

Five Years

2011-08-12T00:00:00.001-06:00

Five years ago today, I married my soul mate. In a world where divorce is all too common, I am beyond proud of the relationship and marriage that Mike and I have together. We have definitely had our ups and downs, but every couple goes through that. In our dating years, there were a lot of break-ups (caused by me...I realize now that the majority of them happened while I was hardcore PMSing), but those were always followed by wonderful make ups :) From the day we exchanged vows, I knew that walking away was never again going to be an option. Whether Mike likes it or not, he's stuck with me for the long haul :)

I pride myself on our marriage. Yes, we argue, but our disagreements are always respectful. There are no cheap shots, no name calling, no crossing the line. We don't bring up past mistakes that have previously been forgiven and use them to burn the other person. Feelings still get hurt, but we are quick to forgive and move on. We share the same dreams and goals. We spend many an evening talking about our dream house and describing its layout. We daydream about what we will spend our millions on once we finally win the lottery. We talked about baby names, long before I was pregnant with Kat.

I am lucky to be married to the world's most patient man. Let's be honest - lesser men would have had enough of my mental issues and walked away long ago. But Mike...he's not other men. He might not be perfect, but he's perfect for me. I love that he can talk to anyone, anywhere. I love that he can fix lawnmowers and change electrical outlets, but that he also likes doing puzzles and reading books. I love that he is a wonderful father to his children - they know that they can depend on him whenever they need something. I just love him. Period.

Our pet name for each other is "Babe" or "Bay-bay". We don't say it in a schmoopy-woopy voice...just matter of factly, as if we were saying each other's name. I didn't realize how often we said it or how little we use one another's names until Kat started calling Mike (you guessed it), "Babe". The only time she says it is when she's looking for him...she yells it down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Sooner or later, we're going to have to point out to her how wrong it is to call your dad "Babe", but for now...it's just too darn funny.

Happy fifth wedding anniversary, Babe...here's to five (maybe six) more :)

Catheter Man (Updated)

2011-08-05T23:47:00.003-06:00

It's funny how a little retail therapy can brighten up your day.

Even if the only purchase you make is a condom catheter.

Yes, you read that right - a condom catheter made my day.

For those of you who don't know who Joel is, this is a good place to start. Joel wears diapers and there is a LOT of pain-in-the-ass-ish-ness that goes along with it. He has grown out of the "Good Nights" he used to wear (which had awesome absorbency) and, for the last year or so, he's been wearing men's Depends (which aren't really built for full on bladder emptying). So, we were forced to take precautions in other ways: putting absorbent pads on his wheelchair and on the floor to catch the spillage when he would soak through his pants. His laundry basket is constantly full of pee soaked pants. And the smell in his room? Well, let's just say his Scentsy does what it can, but it can't completely mask the smell. And don't even get me started on what this all does to my laundry routine in order to guarantee Joel's stuff is always washed last!

Mike and I talked about getting Joel an internal catheter, but that idea was quickly vetoed. Obviously, we don't like to cause Joel any unnecessary pain and the risk of infection would be pretty high. We do have a commode for him to use (a portable toilet like you'd see in the hospital), but there is even more pain-in-ass-ish-ness associated with that since it would mean attempting to clean him up while he's suspended in a sling over the commode.

On Thursday, I decided to check out a local medical supply store here in town. I wanted to know if they carried some type of external catheter system. The moment I walked into the store, I knew the trip was going to be worthwhile solely based on the sheer hotness radiating from the gentleman working behind the counter. Sidenote: if any of you local readers know the man that I am talking about, please feel free to pass along my name and phone number on the off chance that Mike and I ever get divorced. Seriously...this guy was BYOOtiful. And from the moment he opened his mouth, I could tell he wasn't a cocky douche like so many good looking guys seem to be. He was helpful, funny and very friendly. Did I mention he was good looking? In my younger years when I was much more insecure, I would have been nervous around such an adonis that I would have stumbled on my words to the point of sounding like a wounded seal. Not so much anymore. I was able to joke and chat right back with him.

The store did have the system I was talking about and we reached a point in our interaction where I had to choose a condom size. You wanna talk about awkward? How about having to guesstimate the size of your 16 year old stepson's schlong? Yah, awkward. But, me being me...I did the best I could to make light of the situation.

After making the purchase, I raced home to Mike for two reasons. One, I was super excited about finding the catheter system. Two: to tell him I was super excited to discover a really hot guy sells said catheter system. Mike and I are secure and confidant enough in our relationship that we can joke about hitting on/dating other people, so for the rest of the evening, I enjoyed bringing up "Catheter Man" every chance I got.

If that wasn't enough, imagine my delight to get a phone call from "Catheter Man" this morning :) He was phoning to let me know that Joel's supplies would all be covered by SaskHealth. I like to think he was phoning just so he could hear my voice again :) I'm already counting down to when I have to go back and refill Joel's supplies.

Update: After Mike dubbed the salesman "Catheter Man", I instantly remembered the song "Particle Man" by They Might Be Giants (one of my favourite groups in the early 90s). I began to sing along with the video, but I changed the lyrics to those that are not suitable for being printed on the world wide web :)

Summer Lovin'

2011-08-03T00:54:00.000-06:00

I must say that I'm quite enjoying this whole "no working" thing this summer. Even though I'm still busy with Sweet Baby K and chasing after Katelyn, I'm really digging not having a job. I really wish we could afford to have me home all the time, but unless we win the lottery, that's not going to happen any time soon.

I've been applying for tons of jobs and I'm discovering that I'm either WAY overqualified (Hello Superstore and the cashiers with a grade 10 education) or else I'm under qualified. The stupid thing with the "under qualified" is that, in essence, I'm still overqualified. A lot of the jobs I've applied for require an Office Education certificate. Shouldn't a university degree automatically trump any diploma or certificate? Pshaw I say!

So, with no scheduled hours or a boss to report to, I've been having fun filling up mine and Kat's summer days:

We swim in her paddling pool (well, she swims in the pool because let's face it - if I sat in it, there wouldn't be any water left).

We go for walks in her little car.

We swing in the park.

We go to the lake and cuddle with Daddy while thunderstorms rage outside.

We've learned how to brush our teeth.

We shit in the paddling pool but don't notice it for a good 30 minutes and in the meantime, we drink the water and smooth down Kat's hair.

We bake cookies.

Nothing but good times :)

Left: cuddling at the lake
Right: our second capture of a lightning bolt this summer!

Top left: first moment in the pool and hating every minute of it!
Top right: realizing that this is actually quite fun

L-R: mimicking the Coppertone baby; playing peek-a-boo; leave it to me to post a picture of my kid's shit filled diaper and bathing suit

Top left: pretending to be a puppy
Top right: being Mommy's model for the website
Bottom left: we brush our teeth!
Bottom right: watching the parade (Bella looks uber impressed!)

The Start Of Something Special

2011-07-25T23:27:00.001-06:00

When we first moved into this house 4 1/2 years ago, things didn't start out so great with our one neighbour. Our first introduction to her was when she yelled at us that our moving van was blocking her driveway. Add that with the facts that we never, ever saw her outside and her lawn was the shits and that was all we needed to give her the nickname "Klopek" (courtesy of the greatest movie ever..."The Burbs"). All we ever saw of her was when she would back her car out of her driveway to go to work and then drive back in when she got home. We would not have been the least bit surprised if we were to ever see her beating the snot out of her garbage with a shovel.

Given our unfortunate "distaste" for her, we never extended a neighbourly hand to help shovel her walks in the winter. In fact, I think we may have on occasion shovelled the snow off our driveway into her backyard. Whoops. Not sure how that happened.

Anyways, everything changed two years ago, with one short visit from our neighbour on the other side of us. He came over to give us the heads up about a series of break-ins and attempted break-ins that had happened the night before. After he left, I was outside having a smoke when "Klopek" pulled into her driveway. She didn't drive right into her garage (she was unloading groceries), so I figured I would do the neighbourly thing and pass along the information. We had a really great chat (her real name is Ann, she has one son who lives in B.C. and no grandchildren) and then went our separate ways.

A few months after Kat was born, we met outside, once again, as we were dragging our garbage bins to the curb (no, she did not have a shovel with her). She asked whether I had had a baby, because she would sometimes see me in the living room in the evenings with a little bundle in my arms. A few nights later, she popped over with a baby shower gift for Kat. To say that Ann fell instantly in love with Kat is an understatement.

This spring/summer, we have been spending a lot more time outside than we did last year. When we go for walks in the evening, we'll stop at Ann's house just to knock and say "Hi!". Last week, Ann dropped off a batch of fresh strawberries and some strawberry jam for us (her yard in the city might be crap, but her boyfriend has a farm just outside the city). In return, I took a pic of Kat eating said strawberries and wrote a thank you note from Kat to her "next door Grandma".

Tonight, Ann knocked on our back door. She said that she was out shopping when all of a sudden, something just fell into her cart! From behind her back, she pulled out an adorable stuffed kitten for Kat (who squealed in delight). When I asked if Ann had received our thank you card, she said that she wasn't able to stop smiling. She took the picture of Kat to work with her and everyone fell in love with her!

I am really, really glad that I smoke. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't have been outside that night when Ann came home and we wouldn't have chatted. If that wouldn't have happened, we'd probably still be ~~throwing Shandi's poop over the fence~~ not speaking to her. I can't help but smile at what a special relationship the two of them are going to develop :)

Another Case Of The Stinky Shirt

2011-07-23T01:35:00.000-06:00

First off, I want to say thank you for two things: for your condolences on the passing of my grandfather and for your input on dishwasher detergent. I shall keep you updated on how my battle with the white scum goes :)

Secondly, there seems to be some sort of smelly epidemic running rampant through the sale section at the fat ladies' store. In less than a month, I have now acquired a second shirt that has some type of odor saturated right into its core. And I still can't figure how to get rid of it. Perhaps if I knew what the smell actually was, it would help. My first guess is that it is the smell of desperation from some fat lady trying to fit into a shirt that is two sizes too small. After typing that, I'm pretty sure I've left that scent on a few outfits myself :)

Two Questions For My Readers

2011-07-20T22:46:00.000-06:00

Question #1: What type of dishwasher detergent do you use? Brand? Liquid? Powder? Those little cube things? The reason I ask is because we are having a bee-yotch of a time finding something that doesn't leave white scum all over our dishes. We are currently using the Cascade Liquigel stuff and it is doing a decent job, but our glasses are always left "murky". We tried one Cascade MegaActionPowerScrubbingSuper tablet thing and what a nightmare that was! Every single plate, glass and piece of cutlery was left coated with a thick, white scum...blech!

Question #2: For any of you out there who share a bed with your husband/spouse/common-law etc., do you (meaning the women) sleep on the side of the bed that is furthest away from the door? When we brought Kat home, we needed to change our room around to accommodate her bassinet. Previously, I was sleeping on the left side of the bed (furthest from the door) and when we switched the bed around, I then chose to sleep on the right side (again, furthest from the door). It's not like I said to myself, "I want Mike to be first in the line of fire if we are broken into". It just sort of worked out like that. Now that we've switched our room back to how it was pre-Kat, I am, once again, furthest from the door.

So tell me...what type of dishwasher detergent do you use and is your side of the bed furthest from the door?

Saying Good-Bye

2011-07-19T23:45:00.001-06:00

Today, we buried my grandfather. Obviously, it was a sad day, but there were moments of laughter as well. We did the graveside ceremony first, with just the family. I held it together until I saw my grandmother carrying my grandpa's urn (which was his tackle box) from the funeral vehicle to the graveside. In all my life, I have never seen my grandma look so heartbroken and despondent. It broke my heart and opened my flood gates. After the pastor spoke, one member from each family stepped forward and placed a rose on the grave. It was at this time, we could take the opportunity to put our "farewell letter" into a velvet bag, beside the urn. After I had written my letter to Grandpa, I put the font extra-large so that he would be able to read it. And then I remembered that where he is, he now has perfect vision :)

The church ceremony was extremely touching. Once the other guests were seated, our family was lead into the sanctuary by the Saskatoon Firefighters' Honour Guard. They lined the aisle as we walked between them. The Honour Guard was made up of current firefighters, as well as men who worked on the team with Grandpa. When the ceremony was over, our family was lead outside. There, we were met by another group of Honour Guard members who were lined up in front of two firetrucks. One of the members read aloud "The Fireman's Prayer", followed by a moment of silence. The silence was broken by the firetruck's siren giving a final blast. It was a very fitting tribute to a very dedicated firefighter.

We love and miss you, Grandpa.

The Need For Speed

2011-07-17T14:37:00.001-06:00

Kat had her first ride in the boat on Friday. But Little Miss K wasn't content with just sitting. This little thrill seeker needed to drive. Grandpa only intervened when Kat failed to notice that the shoreline was rapidly approaching :)

password is kat

Why You Shouldn't Wear An iPod In The House

2011-07-13T12:10:00.000-06:00

I'm on the verge of being diagnosed with something I see as being way more scary than post-partum depression, anxiety and OCD put together. I'll wait until I see my psychiatrist next week before I elaborate. But that's not the point of this post. The point is that I am trying to find natural ways to keep my mood elevated.

One of the things I'm doing is wearing my iPod in the house. There's just something about having music piped right into your ear canals that changes the listening experience. When Kat is napping or when Mike is around to tend to her, I throw the ear buds in and groove my way around the house, listening to my life's personal soundtrack.

BUT....

BUT....

BUT....

If you ever find yourself grooving along to Martin Solveig's "Hello"* while you're in the bathroom, taking care of unladylike business, make sure you lock the door. Because it's almost a guarantee that your husband is going to knock on the door (which you're not going to hear because of the music) and, when he gets no response, assume there is no one in there (the bathroom door is closed at all times so Kat doesn't dive head first into the toilet) and open the door. What your husband will see will be forever burned into his retinas...his wife, silently jamming, swaying side to side and wiping her ass.

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

*my apologies if I have forever ruined this song for any of you

How To Properly Ruin A Surprise Birthday Party

2011-07-12T22:04:00.004-06:00

Here are the steps to follow if you ever want to ruin someone else's surprise birthday party. It doesn't matter whose party it is (in this case, it was my sister-in-law's 30th bday)...if you follow this guide, you'll be sure to ruin it for yourself and most of those in attendance:

Step One: Make sure you bring an 18-month old child with you. This is clutch.

Step Two: Even though the b'day party planner (my brother) has carefully laid out what he expects of everyone, don't pay any attention to his guidelines. One way of doing this is to tell everyone that it would be funnier if we hid somewhere else (say, in the bedroom rather than in the living room as originally planned). This way, you'll not only surprise the birthday girl, but you'll be able to pull one over on the party planner.

Step Three: Although you carefully hide everyone's vehicles down the street and hide their shoes and purses on the back deck, make sure you leave up the party decorations and leave the appetizers on the counter. This way, the birthday girl will be suspecting something long before anyone shouts, "Surprise!".

Step Four: This is where the 18-month old gets to do her part. Make sure the "surprise" room is full of adults (most of whom have had children themselves) who expect the child to stay completely quiet. After all, she's been on this planet for a year and a half - she should know all the ins and outs of what's involved with a surprise party and be able to keep her trap shut. For good measure, throw in a grandmother who likes to say, "I bet Kat ruins the surprise" three or four times in a row.

Step Five: As the birthday girl is coming down the hall, have the 18-month old call out, "Hello?" and completely blow everything. Afterwards, you can berate her for doing exactly what you've been teaching her for the past six months. This should thoroughly screw her up. Also, once everyone yells "Surprise!", listen quietly for the grandmother to say, "I knew Kat would ruin it". You may want to bite your lip at this point, to stop yourself from crying.

Step Six: Ten minutes after the party has started, give the child a helium balloon to run around with. Then let her fall, face first, on the floor so that she can put her teeth through her upper lip. This way, you get to momentarily leave the party to take her to a walk-in clinic (so you don't have to listen to the grandmother tell everyone else how the child ruined the surprise). You'll likely discover that your daughter is just fine and does not require stitches, but the doctor will offer you a Valium to calm down.

Musings On A Monday

2011-07-11T14:34:00.001-06:00

Saturday was a strange day. When you have an 18 month old, it doesn't leave you with a lot of time to sit and have any type of meaningful conversations. But I was glad that I could be there for my Grandma and my Mom, even if the majority of my time was spent chasing Katelyn and keeping her from smashing all the china plates.

****
When someone dies, I find that I am not as sad for myself. Yes, I cry, but it's more for the others. It's for my Grandma, who had to say good-bye to her partner and best friend of 65 years. I cry for my Mom, who lost her father. And a part of me cries because I know that will someday be me having to say good-bye to Mike or to my Dad.

****
My Grandfather spent the last seven months of his life in a care home. He passed away in his sleep. I thought it was extremely touching that, when the funeral home brought his body out of his room, they had draped a Canadian flag over the stretcher. The flag at the home was also lowered to half-mast. A very nice touch for a WWII veteran.

****
The supper on Saturday evening was odd. There was regular chatting, talking and catching up. I don't know why, but I had this picture that everyone should be sobbing, in between bites of casserole. I know that life has to go on, but it just seems strange that it happens so quickly.

****
During supper, Katelyn began to cough. My aunt commented on what a well-trained little girl she is, given that she covered her mouth when she coughed. I pointed out that I haven't taught her that. Something I have taught her, though, is to say, "Niiiiiice" when someone farts.

This Moment: The Grandfather Edition

2011-07-08T11:01:00.002-06:00

{this moment}– a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember...

These photos aren't from this last week.

They are of my grandfather and Kat.

He passed away this morning.

Strong

Stern

Firefighter

Gardener

Fisherman

Bear hugs

Crushing handshake

8:00 eyedrops

"Wash your hands after eating and don't touch the walls on the way to the bathroom"

"I'm just resting my eyes"

Hurricane Waldner

Legacy

Loved oh so much

Dear Me...

2011-07-06T22:25:00.002-06:00

Note to self #1: When you are out for your evening walk and you are listening to your iPod (essentially blocking out all surrounding noise), if you feel the need to pass gas, please do better a job of shoulder checking before you let 'er rip. Those poor, poor ladies behind you...

Note to self #2: Remember the time you found a pistachio nut lodged under your boob? That was nothing compared to the lighter that fell out your bra last week.

Note to self #3: If you are wearing pants that don't have pockets and you are going out for a smoke, do not stuff your lighter in your cleavage because you will forget it is there until you change into your pajamas.

Note to self #4: If this pattern of finding random objects underneath your boobs continues, I suggest you start walking further and faster. It is beyond time to lose this weight, once and for all.

Note to self #5: Speaking of lighters, if you EVER get the desire to light a pile of poplar fluff on fire again...don't. Just don't. You completely torched one side of your neighbour's backyard and you are DAMN lucky that her shed did not catch on fire.

Note to self #6: When you are applying for jobs where the primary responsibility is correctly filing paper work, it is best if you avoid attaching the wrong cover letter with your resume. ~~Twice.~~ Three times in a row.

Good For The Soul

2011-07-05T01:08:00.000-06:00

This past weekend, Mike, Kat and I went up to my parents' cabin. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned once or twice about how it is my heaven on earth. When I die, this is where my ashes will be spread. There is no phone in the cabin, no internet, no cable. We lived without running water for many years. While there is a fully functional bathroom inside the cabin, the biffy is still in use from time to time.

I could go on and on and on about why I love the cabin/lake so much...the sound of a chainsaw in the morning (along with the smell of sawdust!); the crackle of the fire; the way the sun cuts through the tall, skinny pine trees; CBC radio constantly playing in the background; morning coffee on the newly built garage/deck...it all just comes together to create a perfect place to quiet your mind and rejuvenate your spirit.

This past Sunday was an absolutely perfect day. The temps hit a lovely 31 C, Kat had a longer than usual nap and Mike took off fishing which meant I got to lay down on the dock with my essentials for a great suntanning/meditating session...a diet lime Pepsi, a pack of smokes, my iPod and a book. I would lay on the dock until I was roasting and then dive off the end to cool off. On a side note, I'm thinking I should buy a different coloured bathing suit. When I would crest up out of the water (wearing my black and white suit), I'm pretty sure I confused the people on the neighbouring dock as to how a killer whale ended up in a fresh water lake.

Laying on the dock, with my favourite music in my ears and the sun beating down on me gave a much needed soothing to this over-anxious soul. If I could have one hour, every week, to lay on that dock and just completely chill, I would be a much calmer person.

So happy to finally be on our way! Shandi was a little miffed that she couldn't sit on my lap :)

Top left: front view of the cabin Top right: the path leading up from the lake
Bottom left: the path leading down to the lake Bottom right: side entrance/deck

L-R: Mike working on the water pump; Kat eating a late supper; Mike having a much needed nap :)

Our dock

Testing out the water for the first time this year, followed by a quick dry-off session on the garage deck.

Getting a little play time in (and introducing Kat to the quad)

Watching the sunset...

Kat's first time on the beach...she hated it!

Much needed relax time to soothe my stirred-up soul

This Could Be Me

2011-06-30T15:04:00.001-06:00

I was telling Mike how lately I've been feeling "itchy" from the inside out (and I'm not talking about yeast in the lady business). I feel like I can't sit down, but at the same time, I don't want to do anything. I want to run around and scream and wave my arms around, but I also want to sleep. It's just this feeling of crazy, pent up energy that has no where to go because I'm too damn lethargic to do anything about it. It's just plain weird. Mike commented that if I want to scream and jump around, to please go do it outside so that I don't wake up Katelyn.

And that's when I remembered this video. There are days that could totally be me. Except I'd probably have on a top hat and be carrying a flaming sword. When I do crazy, I do it right.

Selling To The Saleswoman

2011-06-26T22:44:00.001-06:00

Last week, we had a young door-to-door saleswoman knock on our back door. She was selling alarm systems. She was the second alarm company in a month to stop by here. I had a tough time getting rid of the first guy who showed up...I hate being the one to answer the door to these guys because I don't want to hurt their feelings when I say "No".

On this particular evening, Mike was home and we invited the woman in to go through her spiel. I do not like the idea of buying stuff on the spot, but I really had to admire this woman's salesmanship...she had the perfect response to all of my queries and hesitancies. When I asked about extra costs, her response was, "Well, I don't do this for everyone, but...I'll waive the installation fee". Yah right, you don't do that for everyone :)

In the end, we decided to get the alarm system and it is actually pretty awesome. It's sort of like On-Star, where the security company talks to us through the system and not over the phone. One of the features that sold us on this system is the flood alert sensor. We got the techs to install a sensor in our little sump hole (where the water came from during The Great Flood of '09). This way, we are instantly alerted if the water starts to crest out of that space and, with all this friggin' rain lately, it is well worth the monthly cost!

Anyways, the saleswoman hung out while we were waiting for the techs to show up. She commented on the pics of Kat I have on the computer desk (I also have my Sweet Baby K logo in a frame). I told her what the business was about and she got all excited. Her friend in Edmonton had just had a baby girl and she had been wondering what to get as a baby shower gift. Well, isn't that too perfect? :)

I took her down to my office and she was blown away by all the choices. In the end, I helped her pick out a couple of cute things and she was beyond excited. She commented that all she had to do now was get it over to the post office and into an shipping envelope. I kept a straight face as I reached over to my shipping packages and said, "Well, I don't do this for everyone, but...I'll throw in the envelope for free".

I have never laughed like that with a complete stranger. It was a great moment.

Last Year vs This Year

2011-06-23T23:07:00.001-06:00

Last year...

...you couldn't sit up on your own yet.

This year...

...you happily sit for pictures :)

Last year...

...we read stories to you (even if they were uber creepy).

This year...

...you make up your own stories :)

Last year...

...we were feeding you.

This year...

...you are feeding us :)

Last year...

...you were beautiful.

This year...

...you still are!
(dsepite the biting, screaming and general diva attitude that sometimes appears).

S#!t My Spouse Says: The Knife Edition

2011-06-20T17:52:00.005-06:00

After a brief yet heated argument where the wife had her throat jumped down, the husband comes into the kitchen to apologize...

Husband: I'm sorry for getting mad (leans in to give wife a kiss on the cheek).

Wife (who is slicing oranges): Really? You want to try talking to me while I'm holding a knife?

Husband: Am I in some kind of immediate danger?

Wife: Let's just say you're fucking lucky I'm back on my meds. Otherwise, I'd have the perfect defense to ram this into your throat.

Husband: Nice.

Not Quite As Expected :)

2011-06-20T14:12:00.001-06:00

It wasn't a horrible weekend at the lake...there was good food and visiting. But the shitty sleeps coupled with lousy weather, Kat getting a cold and falling headfirst off a chair and smashing her face made it a less than stellar weekend.

I had expected the weather to be rainy, but I had a very different picture of what the weekend would look like. Last summer, Kat wasn't crawling yet, so she was content to play on the floor or in her exer-saucer. This meant that I could read or chat with minimal interruptions. This year? Not so much. Kat is constantly on the go and into exploring everything. While this is great for her development, it's not so great for my ability to relax. Thrown into the mix is that she's at a stage where she refuses to be held/cuddled by anyone except me or Mike. Mike was working this weekend, so it meant I did the parental shift for 72 straight hours.

Given the new surroundings, Kat wasn't interested in sleeping. She was awake until 1:00am on Friday night (after only napping for a total of 45 minutes that day) and then woke up at 6:45am. This is unheard of in our house. I've mentioned before that I was blessed with an amazing kid...have I mentioned that she doesn't wake up until at least 9:00 in the morning? The days of getting up at 5:00am ended when she turned a month old. Told you I was blessed.

On Saturday, Kat started getting a runny nose and a cough. In the afternoon, she was sitting on the comfy chair in the living room. She leaned forward to peer over the edge and the momentum of her gargantuan head propelled her forward. Before anyone could catch her, she landed face first on the floor. Rug burn under her nose and a bloody tooth was the result. I was ready to pack up and go home, but after only ten seconds or so of crying, she toddled off with an enthusiastic, "Bye!" so I figured she was okay :) Saturday was a rough night as well...awake until 2:00am, followed by a restless sleep filled with coughing and snoring. The Father's Day brunch of pancakes, eggs and bacon that woke us up at 9:00am made up for the shit sleep. We were packed up and on the road home shortly after.

After a very lovely 12 hour sleep for both of us last night, today has resumed to all things normal. Except for Kat's rotten head cold. I applied for three more jobs today. My fingers are getting sore from being permanently crossed :)

Happy to be home and getting cuddles from Daddy

Away We Go!

2011-06-17T14:44:00.000-06:00

Sooooo....I didn't get the job I wanted. Whatevs. There's already two other jobs I have set my sights on and at least this time, I won't have to wait three weeks to hear back from them. The competitions end next Friday, so I'll hopefully land one of those two. If not, I am seriously looking at Safeway. Is it wrong that that excites me?

******

I am super excited to be heading up to the lake for the first time this year. Last summer, Katelyn wasn't even crawling, so the lake wasn't all that exciting for her. This year, she's cruising around like nobody's business and I can't wait for her to explore and discover all the reasons why I love the lake. The weather is looking like it's going to stay pretty crappy, but a bad weekend at the lake is still better than any day at work :)

Enjoy your weekend!

I don't understand why this kid doesn't smile more...

A Change Will Do You Good

2011-06-13T09:16:00.000-06:00

I'm a teacher, but I do not teach in a regular school. There are many reasons why I enjoy my job, but I don't know if I love it. I started this job shortly after convocation. The only time I've been in a "real" classroom was during my internship. Aside from the fact that I was paired with a co-operating teacher from hell or that I cried in the bathroom during every recess and ate my lunch alone in my car on a gravel road so I could scream in the empty wilderness, I really enjoyed my time in the classroom.

I was teaching fourth grade and I loved the age group. The kids were old enough to be fairly independent (no wiping noses or tying shoelaces), but not so old that crappy attitudes had set in. The walls were still adorned with bright bulletin boards and job calendars, desks still had names on them, fancy pencils were still given out as prizes.

There are days that I wish I was a regular teacher in a regular classroom. In my room, there isn't a huge demand for being super creative or innovative. I don't get to create lesson plans or change bulletin boards to match the current season. There's no chance to make holiday crafts or plan Christmas concerts. There's no sense of camaraderie among a group of primarily female teachers who get together for drinks every once in awhile. There are no staff parties. Or even staff meetings, for that matter.

Events as of late have lead me to start thinking about a different career path. I have no hours for the summer and I have begun to look for a temporary job. Part of me really wants to be a cashier at Safeway...what a gloriously mindless job that would be! All I would have to do is ring items through and chit chat with the customer! Easy peasy!

Another part of me is looking at office admin positions...a chance to wear normal clothes (and jewelry *gasp*) is really appealing. At my current job, I can't go to the bathroom when I need to or even eat a snack if I'm hungry. If I'm going to get pregnant again, these are two factors that are important to me (and, quite frankly, necessary). I had a rough go with morning sickness the first time around and because I couldn't throw up into a proper receptacle, I didn't go to work.

So, we shall see what comes from the interviews I've done. There is one position that I am really, really hoping for and I should find out by Friday. Fingers crossed :)

17 Months Old

2011-06-12T02:55:00.001-06:00

Dear Kat,

It's been awhile since I've written a monthly letter to you. You are at such an incredible age, I want to take a moment to remember all the fun, goofy, "wow" things you are doing. It seems as if overnight, you have turned into a little girl. Even though you're still so young, you also seem so old. Everyone who meets you comments on how tall you are...some don't even believe that you are under two :) While looking/acting older than your age is a great feature now, I'm sure you will regret it if people are still saying that when you're forty!

Your nap/bedtime preferences have changed and you have turned into a real cuddlebug (and Mama doesn't mind one bit!). My favourite parts of any day are when I'm rocking you to sleep. I will happily drop what I'm doing to snuggle up with you and sing you lullabies. I can tell you're getting sleepy when you start to chatter through you're soother. You make a last ditch effort to make me smile and then you tuck your chin against your chest, grab the corner of the blanket and pull it up to your face and drift off. Le sigh.

At 17 months of age, you:

- LOVE yogurt and bananas

- can say Hi!, baby, poo-poo, shoe, Shandi, Jo-Jo, cool, Mom, bang, uh-oh, up, cookie and ball

- can sign more, all done, milk, eat, banana and cracker

- freely give hugs and kisses

- love throwing balls

- hold Shandi's leash when we go for walks

- love your sunglasses

- hate having your hair put in pigtails

- are starting to pick what you want to wear

- will point at what you want and say, "Bee!"

- LOVE to dance (and you look like you're in a club)

- love to sing (especially the Pat-a-Cake song)

- hate being without Mama...if I want to leave, you need to be distracted

- have the nicknames Monkey and Munchkin

- can grab things off the counter (if they're close to the edge)

- love your baths

- steal my eyedrops off my night table every chance you get

- have broken your crib mattress from repeated bouncing

- love to feed Shandi from your highchair

My sweet little Monkey...you bring so much laughter and love into this household. During your waking hours, I honestly don't think more than ten minutes goes by where I don't burst into laughter over something funny you've done. It is an absolute honour to be able to share each day with you. I am constantly amazed at all the new little things you figure out and the speed with which you learn. You only need to be shown how to do something once and you've got the hang of it. I should point out that is only in regards to things you WANT to do. I have shown you many times that you are not to open the dishwasher and crawl onto the door and yet, for some reason, you seem to forget :)

I am so excited for this summer...we didn't spend a great deal of time outside with you last year. Given that you were not mobile, I wasn't too keen on having you sit outside in the hot sun (and, let's face it, Mama's not a fan of heat herself). This year, there are so many things to explore and discover in our yard and neighbourhood. Just yesterday, you discovered our neighbour's strawberry plants and you helped yourself to a handful!

Here's a glimpse into what a day with you is currently like...

password is kat

Love,

Mama

The Case Of The Smelly Shirt

2011-06-11T12:26:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, while I was in Saskatoon, I took the opportunity to buy myself some new clothes. Since entering into the "business" world, I find I can no longer pay full price for many things...especially clothes. I just can't stomach paying $45.00 for a shirt when I know it will eventually end up on sale for 50% off the last ticketed price, sell for $5.00 and still allow the store to make a profit. That being said, you also run the risk of not being able to get that item on sale at a later date. Anyways, that's not the point of this post.

I walked out of the store with a pair of pants, an awesome bunnyhug (hoodie for you non-SK people) and five tops for $92.00. Big time score, considering the regular price of these items averaged $40.00 a piece. One of the tops was a gorgeous milky-coffee coloured, short-sleeved, scoop-necked top for only $5.00 (final sale, no returns). I understand now why it was final sale.

When I tried the shirt on in the store, I noticed it had a smell to it - not B.O. or anything really stinky...just a smell. Sort of like rubber. Or cheap plastic. "Whatevs", I thought, "it'll wash out". How very wrong I was. I have washed this shirt at every opportunity and this smell will NOT wash out. Like I said, it's not a stink, but I'm very aware that my shirt has a phantom odor. I don't want it hanging in my closet, in case it infects the rest of my clothes. The frugal part of my brain says that for $5.00, I can put up with an odor. The OCD part of my brain can't stop thinking about what originally caused the smell! I have a few more tricks to try, so we shall see if one of them works :)

Random Ramblings Fit For A Wednesday

2011-06-08T00:01:00.001-06:00

Throughout my day, I often come up with two or three ideas for a blog post. By the time I get to sit down at the computer, I've either forgotten what my great idea was or I get completely distracted by pretty things on Etsy or watching an episode of "The Big Bang Theory". By the way, you know you're watching too much of a certain TV show when you're 17 month old can yell out the last word of the theme song at the appropriate time (which, funnily enough, is "bang").

Speaking of Kat, this kid has a wicked crazy streak in her. She can be all sweet, smiling and charming and the instant that she doesn't get her way, she turns on the drama and pulls a snap-ola that would make Britney Spears circa 2007 look sane. Tonight, she was running around the kitchen with a tangerine and when I took it from her (so I could pick her up and put her in the high chair), she slammed her face into my thigh and tried to bite me. The force of her head hitting my leg sent her falling over backwards, where she proceeded to lay on the floor and scream. I did what any good mother would do in that situation - I stepped over her so I could grab the camera and take a picture of her in all her holy terror glory. I tell you, that angel crown she wore for all of last year has started to slip a little :)

****
Next topic...I had to give a urine sample (for reasons I'm not going to discuss) two weeks ago. On Friday, I received a letter saying the test was inconclusive because of improper fluid levels. Mike just about died laughing because this is ME they were talking about...the woman who pees 60 times a day couldn't give a proper urine sample.

So, I downed a bottle of water this afternoon and headed over to the lab after work today. I was having a tough time judging how full the cup was getting and I didn't want to move it out of it's position to check it (on the off chance I couldn't get it back into proper position and end up peeing all over my pants). At the point when I felt the pee hit my hands and start running all over my pants, I figured that was a big enough sample. Note to self: for future pee tests, pull the damn cup out and check it so you don't pee all over yourself. Additional note to self: wash your uniform before Thursday.

That's all I have for now. Please enjoy this video of Kat dancing to Lady Gaga's "Judas" to hold you over to the next post :)

password is kat

The Goings On

2011-05-31T22:56:00.001-06:00

Just a couple photos about the goings on over the last couple weeks...it seems like my blog gets neglected no matter how I'm feeling. When I feel like shit, I don't want to talk to anyone and I certainly don't want to talk to the internet. But when I'm feeling good, I'm kicking ass left, right and center doing other things and I'm too busy to sit down. So, here's a few photos to tie (tide?) you over until this busy-ness passes :) Hopefully, I'm still in a good mood when it does.

Kat and Daddy on the quad. Judging by the piles of junk in our garage, we should apply to be on "Hoarders".

Being inducted into the Sports Hall of Fame. My hair looks like shit...why didn't anyone tell me that?

Kat out for a stroll in her amazing technicolor dreamcoat.

An Easy Tell

2011-05-25T23:06:00.001-06:00

Almost every poker player has a "tell". That is, there is something in their mannerisms that give them away when they have a good poker hand. Might be a brief eye twitch or licking their lips. Typically, these tells are extremely subtle and only the best of the best are able to pick up on one another's tells.

I'm not a poker player, but I do have my own tell. Any guesses on what it means when Mike finds me crying in the kitchen, with a log of store-bought chocolate chip cookie dough in one hand and a spray can of Cool Whip in the other?

Somedays, I really, really hate being cursed with all things womanhood.

Kinda Funny, But Mostly Cool

2011-05-21T12:01:00.001-06:00

On Monday, I found out my high school soccer team is being inducted into the P.A. Sports Hall of Fame. All week long, whenever I went to say "I'm being inducted into the Sports Hall of Fame", I couldn't do it without laughing my head off because, honestly, this is me we're talking about. ME. I have the feeling people at the banquet are going to look at my current physical status and think, "What they hell are you capable of winning besides a pie-eating contest?". The thought of being inducted is funny because I'm pretty sure I smoked my way through most of those soccer games. I was one of the goalies and I clearly remember having a cigarette during the games (at least on the sidelines, if not while actually standing in net).

The cool thing about all of this (even if I don't feel deserving of the award) is that I am the sixth member of my family to be inducted into a Sports Hall of Fame. My maternal grandmother was the first to be inducted into the Saskatoon Hall of Fame for her work with the U of S synchronized swim team (and I think all her work with training life guards as well). My mom's brother was inducted into the S'toon Hall of Fame for his wrestling achievements and his wife was later inducted for her high jump accomplishments. A few years ago, my dad's university track and field team was inducted into S'toon as well. Here in P.A., my brother and his fastball team were inducted for their feat of winning Nationals (I can't remember if it was two or three times).

We are working on getting my mom inducted into S'toon's Hall of Fame for her discus accomplishments. She placed at National's several times; she held a university record for 25 years (my dad still holds the 800m record) and mom's high school record has yet to be broken (it was set in 1964).

Let's hope I'm not standing outside smoking when they call my name tonight :)

Bruise Much?

2011-05-19T22:02:00.000-06:00

It's no secret in this household that I bruise like a peach. If a fly so much as lands on my arm, I bruise. When I have blood taken, I ask them to use the kids' needle so that I'm not left looking like a junkie. The technician on Wednesday used said kids' needle and this was the result:

I'll have to dig up the pictures from when I had a bone graft done in 2002. My face was bruised from chin to forehead. I couldn't go out in public with Mike because it honestly looked like he'd beaten the living snot out of me.

That is all.

Why I Laughed My Fool Head Off

2011-05-12T00:52:00.000-06:00

You know those giggling fits that leave you snorting and gasping for air, while you wipe away tears of laughter? It has been far too long since I've had one of those moments and today, I sure needed it. I was going through Kat's videos and monkeyed around with the speeds. Maybe this won't be funny to everyone else, but I sure enjoyed the belly laugh it gave me (especially the 3/4 speed).

Password is kat

Chase Away The Greys

2011-05-09T14:17:00.001-06:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again...someone knew what they were doing when they gave me Kat. She is my sunshine. She makes the grey days a little less bleary. She makes me smile when I want to cry. She is what gets me out of the house.

But I can't forget about Shandi either. In a competition of the world's best dogs, she would win, paws down. Loyal to the ends of the earth, quirky, great with kids, doesn't bark...what more could you ask for? Now, if it was a competition for the world's smartest dog, the only way she'd win was if there's a category for "Fastest Poop Eater".

I love her, despite her sheer stupidity.

Here's to hoping this week is better than the last.

A Major Setback (Updated)

2011-05-03T21:54:00.006-06:00

Over the last few weeks, my goal/motto/mantra has been "Wellness" and all that entails. I felt that I was finally in a stable place, both mentally and emotionally. With those two major components dealt with, it was time to start tackling the next two - physical and spiritual. I started attending Weight Watchers (and have lost 11 pounds in my first month thankuverymuch). I'm eating better, I'm exercising and actually ENJOYING it! The physical part is going great.

As for the spiritual, I began attending my old church last year. I'm not going to lie - in the beginning, it was more about dressing Kat up in cute outfits so the older ladies could "ooh!" and "aah!" over her. Within a few weeks, that all changed and I found I was not only listening to the sermon (instead of drawing on the comment cards like I did when I was ~~fourteen~~ six), but I was also carrying that message with me throughout the week.

I felt I had gained enough confidence to begin attending an "Alpha" course - basically a "Who is Jesus and What's His Schtick" for newbies. I went to the first meeting and then came home and had a miniature bible study with Mike (yes, I'm still going to use his name) where I reiterated all that I had learned. Things were going great. Until this past Sunday.

Although I am extremely open on this blog about many things (read: I overshare a LOT), I can't give all the details on what happened. All I can say is that it had to do with the sermon and it was horribly traumatic. I am not exaggerating. I was trapped in that sanctuary, with tears streaming down my face and I couldn't stand up to leave. I was forced to sit and listen. Finally, I saw my moment of escape and I took it. I then bawled my eyes out in the bathroom and left the church.

I haven't slept much these last two nights and I find myself spontaneously bursting into tears. I phoned my counsellor in a panic because I felt like all our hard work over the last two years was coming undone. I couldn't process anything. I didn't know how to start peeling back the layers to step back and really assess what had happened. I have suddenly found myself in this very strange place where I'm unable to analyze anything and it is such a foreign feeling. I feel completely helpless.

At the moment, I'm ready to turn my back on Christianity once again. Why would I want to be a part of a religion that deems it acceptable for its members to publicly berate and humiliate other members? Why would I want to be a part of a church that deems that acceptable? It's day three of living with this new found...everything....fear, humiliation, guilt, sadness, frustration and anger and it's eating away at me. What really pisses me off is that I'm supposed to do another presentation on post-partum depression in two weeks and I'm feeling so mentally damaged, I'm not sure if I can go through with it.

It's honestly days like this that I wish I was a pharmacist and could dip my hand in the codeine cookie jar.

Update: My counsellor just emailed to tell me that the conference has been cancelled. Phew. I don't have to make the decision whether or not to speak.

Supper With K

2011-05-02T02:39:00.000-06:00

I'm not a fan of the Facebook photo albums where people post 30 different angles of the same event. That being said, may I present to you "30 Different Photos of K Eating Her Supper"?

:)

Have I mentioned before how much this kid cracks me up? Some of these pics are of her actually laughing. Some of them are of her fake laugh. Good luck in telling the difference :)

This Moment: The Father/Daughter Edition

2011-04-29T17:02:00.001-06:00

"This moment" – a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember...

The Big Switch

2011-04-27T21:45:00.000-06:00

I just wanted to give you all the heads up that I'm moving.

No, it's not to my dream house...just to a new blog location. I will be shutting down this blog in a week and posting from my new spot. It's all explained in the first post on the new blog. I'm still "And So It Goes" only with a new web address...

http://itgoesandso.blogspot.com/

Yah, yah, yah...I realize the address says "it goes and so" but my title was already taken :)

So, for those of you (if any) have my blog saved in your favourites tab or have linked to my blog from yours, please make the appropriate address switch. I'd hate for anyone to miss out the next time I do a period post :)

Time For A Change

2011-04-27T21:38:00.000-06:00

Why the new space? Well, after googling myself (come on - you all do it and you know it) I realized how much of me is "out there". And it's kind of scary not knowing who's accessing your info. I'm careful about where I enter my VISA number, address and so on, but the other blog had my name plastered all over it. And while I never discuss things that I wouldn't feel comfortable saying in front of my own parents, it just started creeping me out that mine and K's faces/names are just...out there.

So, a couple of changes...a new background (only because I couldn't find my old template) and some amped up "security". No more mentioning my actual last name...if needed, I will go by our alternate last name of "Taves" (which is the correct way to pronounce it) or "Tweeze" (which is how telemarketers pronounce it...dumbasses). I will simply refer to myself as J, to my hubby as M and to my daughter as Miss K or K. Of course, we can't forget about Jo-Jo (which is what we call him at home).

Have no fear...I will still talk about all the good things, like tampons and horrible periods, my irrational fears, long winded rants and maybe, just maybe, I'll throw in a poop story or two for good measure :)

My Very First Vlog :)

2011-04-26T19:27:00.001-06:00

I thought I'd try something different...here is my first "vlog". Password is kat's full name

*I'm not sure why, but there's a bit of a delay between the sound and the video. Makes it kind of annoying :)

The Pink Eraser

2011-04-25T23:07:00.001-06:00

The following letter is written by Mr. Stuart Mclean...my favourite storyteller in the world. I love traditions and the instant I read this exert from his latest book, "The Vinyl Cafe Notebooks", I knew that this was going to become a yearly tradition, from me to Kat. She will not understand it when she starts kindergarden, but, as the years go by, I hope she will begin to appreciate it :)

Dear __________,

Today marks the beginning of another school year and I have been wondering what I could give you to mark this moment. These annual autumn bells: the shuffle of feet on stairs, the rattle of lockers opening and closing. The echoes we all hear when September rolls in. The echoes of the schoolyards and the school days that are both here and not here.

I have been thinking of these things and wondering if there was some token I could wrap and give you, some little thing that would ring bells as you head off once again with your brave little bag of books.

Some perfect little thing that tells you I understand the complexity of this week. That I know that though the first day of school is a grand day, the grandest day of all in many ways, that even in its grandeur, in the grandeur of new shoes and shirts, new friends and old ones, new teachers and new classes … that it is a grand bag of tricks too … it comes with the bag of exams and papers and other things can go all too wrong.

Every one says this is the week that marks the real new year . And why not? What could be more full of possibility than the first day of school. As full of potential as a toboggan at the top of a hill, of a pencil hovering over a blank page, of the smile of that girl with the golden hair sitting in the front row.

But sometimes the snow melts, and you are standing there with your toboggan, feeling a fool … the only one who didn’t hear the weather forecast.

It is a complicated thing this business of school. And it is in the complexity of it that the sorrow and the sadness comes. The heavy burden of books that pile up, and the numbers that don’t … the big numbers that won’t add, the equations that won’t equate. The metaphors that lie there on their backs with their feet wiggling in the air.

Time table and exams, projects and essays … all that stuff that can build up and cause problems and I was hoping this thing I would give you could acknowledge that stuff too.

My first idea was a dictionary. A blue cloth-covered Oxford Canadian with the title stamped in gold letters. If I gave you a dictionary, you would have all the words in the world and you could look them up and write them down in any way you wanted and the wind would blow and the bells would ring and the lockers would slam and teachers would be bewitched by your way with words ... and that girl with the golden hair too.

I thought maybe a dictionary with gold letters on the cover would be just the thing.

Then I thought, maybe a new pair of shoes.

A brand new pair of sneakers … sneakers as heady as dandelion wine …a pair of “royal crown, cream –sponge, light-foot tennis shoes", and when you put them on, you bounce, and when you run you run like a gazelle. Is it a pair of sneakers you need as you run to school?

Or what about lunch? What about lunch every day for a year. If I packed you a lunch of carrot sticks and raisins, and peanut butter sandwiches on soft white bread with jelly the way you like it, the bread so fresh you dent it with your fingers just in the unwrapping. I thought if I wrapped your sandwich in wax paper and wrote little notes on the paper with a black felt pen and slipped in some chocolate from time to time that might do the trick.

I thought and thought... and I thought I could be your wordsmith, your shoemaker or your chef.

But none of them seemed right. The shoes didn’t fit … you forgot the lunch bag in the bus. And who needs more words anyway. There are words enough to go around.

And that is when I decided to give you this eraser: an original Pink Pearl. This little plug of pink rubber with a point at both the ends and this broad side too. The perfect size for mistakes … big or small. An eraser that will fit in your hand whatever size your hands are four or forty, five or fifty. Something that will work today and work tomorrow, that has deep in its rubbery little heart memories of a rubber tree in some thick forest. a gash in the bark, the drip, drip of sap. But more than that, the worried frown of a chemist, too, because your eraser has been vulcanized, my friend.

And even though I don’t have the slightest idea what that means, I do have the deep conviction that if we all carried some small, vulcanized thing with us at all times, we would have an easier go of it and be less prone to explosive anger, road rage, yelling and the gnawing anxiety of our fears

This is for you. I wrapped it in this brown paper to give to you this morning, this first day of school and I hope you will understand, when you unwrap it, that life’s greatest treasures are the simple ones.

Take its measure. Roll it between your fingers. Put it in your pocket. It is all you will need to get through the year safely.

It will give itself up to correct your mistakes. Its sharp edges slowly rounding, like a piece of glass rolled in the sea, until all that’s left of it are little pink smears on the pages of your life. What more could you ask of anything than that?

If I am right about this, with this eraser in your bag, you can risk it all. Exams will mean nothing to you. They can roll out the big numbers - and all the arrhythmic poems - and you will knock them clean out of the park.

This year, you get the pink eraser from the deep thick forest. I give it to you with my love and these instructions:

Take it with you everywhere
you never know when you are going to make a mess or where
just that you are bound to mess things up
and don’t worry about that
I give you my permission
Make many messes
Make wonderful messes
The harder you try
the bigger they’ll be

Don’t mind mistakes
The mistakes are how you learn
You have an eraser
Go ahead make the messes
Then … clean them up
Try again

I Might Be An Idiot...

2011-04-23T10:26:00.001-06:00

...but at least I'm a big-hearted idiot.

As a mother, you do everything you can to protect your child. You put cream on her bum to protect from diaper rash. You put up baby gates and those little plastic things into electrical outlets. You lock the cupboards, turn down the temperature of the water heater and make sure she's securely strapped into her high chair. You put pads on the sharp corners of the fireplace and get rid of hanging cords. And all of that goes out the fucking window the moment you pull over and pick up two hitch hikers. And their dog.

On the way to Saskatoon yesterday, I'm not really sure what possessed me to stop and pick up the couple standing on the side of the road. I'm thinking it was the dog who, quite honestly, is best equipped for a long walk like that (there was tons of water in the ditches for her to drink). But, stop I did and as Annette and Gustav were climbing into the van and introducing themselves, there was a fleeting moment where my heart dropped into my stomach and I thought to myself, "This could go very, very bad. This could be the opening paragraph of the next Reader's Digest "Drama In Real Life" story".

As we began chatting, Annette and I made a quick connection - I knew her grandmother from Deschambeault Lake (where I grew up). The instant I realized that, I said I had to phone my parents and tell them. I honestly wasn't concerned about telling my mom and dad that I met their old friend's granddaughter - I just wanted to "subtly" tell someone that I had hitchhikers in the vehicle so if I disappeared, they would at least have some info to go on. But my parents weren't home, so I was completely on my own - hurtling down the highway with pink-haired, facially pierced Annette and South American born Gustav.

The rest of the drive was quite pleasant. We talked about the normal things that complete strangers would talk about. You know, things like conspiracy theories, genetic memory in your DNA, the cause behind Libya's uprising and how our government is using fluoride for mind control.

I asked where they wanted to be dropped off in S'toon and they said anywhere was fine with them. I drove them downtown and dropped them off in a 7-11 parking lot. As I was nearing the lot, I thought to myself, "Okay - if they are going to pull a knife or a gun, now is going to be the time. If they do, remain completely calm. Give them your keys and your purse. Tell them they obviously need these things more than you do. Get out of the vehicle with the keys in your hand until you have Kat out of her car seat. Give them the keys and walk away, without making a scene."

Of course, this didn't happen. Annette and Gustav were extremely polite and thanked me many times for the ride and the chatting. I wished them well in their travels and backed out of the parking lot, while simultaneously checking to make sure my wallet was still in my purse. As I drove away, I shook my head and thought, "Wow. That was REALLY stupid of me to do".

Mike later pointed out to me that if I want to pick up strangers, do it on my own time, not with his daughter in the vehicle. I took this opportunity to point out to Mike that things could have gone the other way - that they were taking a chance by hitchhiking and, really, I could have just as easily murdered them :)

This Moment

2011-04-22T09:20:00.002-06:00

"This moment" – a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember...

Last night was not a good night for Kat. She was cranky, fussy and letting her terrible twos shine through. At bedtime, trying to get Kat to sleep was like trying to calm a raging lion. So, I threw schedules and routines out the window and we played. At 11:00 at night, I was shooting her elastic headbands at her while she jumped up and down in her crib and laughed. And I laughed too. Kat will likely not remember this night. But it's these moments I never want to forget :)

My New Favourite Thing

2011-04-20T22:58:00.000-06:00

I had heard of Scentsy for awhile, but figured it was just another version of PartyLite. I didn't really give it a second thought until a friend of mine (is it too soon for me to call you that, C?) started selling it. I looked at their website a little closer and chatted with some people at a tradeshow about it. I discovered that Scentsy is quite different from PartyLite and Gold Canyon.

First off, there are no actual candles involved. A huge plus if you have pets or children! The Scentsy warmers are heated with a light bulb. The heat melts a block of wax and voila! Within minutes, you have an awesome smelling room!

Secondly, you have a buttload of scents to choose from. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "butt" and "scents" in the same sentence, but whatever. The scents are absolutely duh-VINE. And for you bachelors out there who prefer a more masculine scent, there are some there for you too :)

Lastly, there are a variety of ways to "get" your scents. What I mean by this is that you can either buy the warmers and wax bricks, you can get an air-freshener type thing that you hang in your closet or there are these little travel tin things that you just slide open. I think I might be missing a few of the options, but you get my point.

I received my order just tonight and I promptly plugged it in (I bought the kind that looks like a nightlight). The estimated burning time for each little brick is about 6-8 hours. Now, I'm sure that mine would have lasted that long, but I already had to add a new brick at 10:30pm. This wasn't because the brick fizzled out, but because I spilled the damn thing. Which leads me to another great feature of Scentsy - the wax doesn't burn you.

I was trying to make a mini mould with the wax so that I could place one in the van. Instead of doing the smart thing and carrying the burner to the sink and pouring it, I decided to pour it right next to the plug in. Well, the wax decided to go any which way except into the mould. Within seconds, I had "White Sand" scented floors :) On the plus side, it cleaned up very easy too!

Hoping To Lose An Ass and A Couple Of Chins...

2011-04-18T00:00:00.000-06:00

So, I started back on Weight Watchers three weeks ago. It is be-YOND time for me to get off my asses and actually work at losing weight. This whole "eat a pint of ice cream and then cry into the empty container" just doesn't seem to be burning enough calories.

I'm actually astounded at how quickly my mind has adapted to the WW plan. Before WW, I would eat a chocolate bar (or seven) and then feel super guilty. Now? My guilt kicks in if I go overboard and eat TWO squares of Lindt's delicious Sea Salt bar, instead of just the one that I allot myself. The mind is a wonderfully strange thing.

The thing I love about WW is that I can still eat all the foods I like - I just have to count everything. I am not a health food nut (as I typed that, I could hear my ass yelling, "No shit, Sherlock!"). I'm not big into cottage cheese, grapefruit, tofu, soy, organic, granola blah blah blah. I like food. That's the reason I'm in this fat situation in the first place. But I'm realizing that I can still eat everything I like AND still lose weight. My first week on WW, I lost 4 lbs. I promptly celebrated with a Sausage and Egger meal from Mickey D's. I had a whole week ahead of me to burn it off, so why not? :)

I have a very long road ahead of me. If I can stick with losing two pounds per week, I should hit my goal weight in, let's see...add the 7, carry the 5, subtract 2....seventeen thousand years. You see, most women want to get back to either their pre-children weight or their wedding weight. Me? I'm striving for my birth weight.

Seriously though, I have close to 100lbs to lose. I have found some really great weight loss blogs to keep me motivated. I know I'm going to slip-up here and there, but I won't let that deter me to the point of giving up. I read a really great analogy last week, "If we give up our "diet" just because we had a binge session, that would be similar to discovering your car has a flat tire and thinking to yourself, "Well, I'm really f*#ked now" and then taking out a knife and slashing the other three tires". This quote really resonated with me. Not so much for the wisdom, but mostly because I have three spare tires around my midsection :)

Happy Monday everybody :)

S#!t My Spouse Says: The Boob Sweat Edition

2011-04-17T14:17:00.000-06:00

Wife prepares toothbrush with paste during her bedtime routine and begins to brush teeth...

Wife: Blargh! There's a frickin' hair on my toothbrush and now it's stuck in my mouth!

Husband: Yah, I know. I saw it there earlier.

Wife: And what? You just left it? You didn't think to maybe pull it off my toothbrush?

Husband: I figured you'd see it and take it off before you started scrubbing your teeth.

Wife (begins to chuckle): Hmmm....(giggle)

Husband: What?

Wife: Oh, nothing...it's just now I don't feel so bad about using your night shirt to wipe off my post-workout under-boob sweat.

Husband: Nice. Real nice.

This Moment

2011-04-15T09:13:00.000-06:00

My friend, Deena, has started doing a re-occurring Friday post that I really like and I think I will copy it :)

"This moment – a Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember"

Only I don't know if I can pick just one moment, so here are my moments from this week that I want to cherish...

Some first steps!!