This blog contains adult content

The other day we were all sitting around watching the National Geographic channel.

A commercial came on, depicting a man lying in bed, looking...disappointed.

The voice over said that 10% of men could be affected by erectile dysfunction.

E: Pop! What would happen if that happened to you??

DH: Uh.....

E: Would you just not be able to sleep, or something?

DH: Um. Yeah. Just. Don't you worry about that. That's not going to happen to Pop.

___________________________________________

DH is on vacation this week, so he has been picking the girls up from school.

A boy was running around and being a goofball, and there was much giggling and carrying on.

S explained to DH: That's J. He and K had a relationship. But it's over now.

I just liked this one.

The girls were telling a story about a boy who was in their class in K or JK.

He was sitting on "the log" (apparently there's a log in the schoolyard that you can sit on).

One of the girls walked up and said, "Hi, what are you doing?"

And he said, "I'm playing Cash Cab."

Sadly, the girl just backed away because she thought that was a weird answer.

I was hoping she sat down and he asked her trivia questions.

Can you imagine if she came back in from recess $500 richer?

I don't like to call it lying...

I call it 'peace at any price.'

K was having a complete meltdown one morning.

Like, Three Mile Island meltdown.

The reason?

"I didn't look to see how much the book that I want to buy at the book fair costs and now I don't know how much money to take with me!"

(Trust me, that was delivered all caps, but I just didn't have the heart to put you through reading it like that.)

So after a good twenty minutes of this:

"We'll send you with $10 and that would probably be enough..."
"BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT???"
"Okay, $20 trust me K, will be more than enough."
"BUT WHAT IF THAT'S TOO MUCH??"
"Then they will give you change."
"CHANGE?!?"

DH disappeared for a moment and came back with the 'book fair' note in his hand.

"K, look what I found."
"Yeah, it's the note."
"No, but on the back of it, look."

K, reading: "K should bring $20 to the book fair tomorrow."

She immediately brightened, and said, "Mrs. G must've looked at the book to see how much it cost!"

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

K: "WAIT A MINUTE. That's not her handwriting."

DH and I stopped breathing.

K: "Oh, no, it's just cursive."

I may give DH a lot of grief, but truly that was an inspired moment in parenting.

That was pretty bad, even for me

When will I learn to just give up on the idea of presenting a picture-perfect Sunday dinner to my family?

First, I decided to pull out the bread maker for the occasion. Was pretty excited about making bread, until I managed to dribble honey across the kitchen floor in the process. Nothing says "Norman Rockwell Moment" like Mommy spending the rest of the day shouting expletives every time she walks across the floor and finds another sticky spot.

Then I decided to make scalloped potatoes and ham.

Hours later, as the bread came out, I suddenly realized I had forgotten to put salt in the mixture.

For consistency's sake, I also forgot to put salt in the potatoes.

At this point I was thinking, "At least I can't really screw up the ham..." but it turns out I forgot to put any water in the pan, so that sucker was smoking by the time I pulled it out of the oven.

The kids kept saying, helpfully, "The bread is okay, you just need to put LOTS of butter on it."

I really hope one of them takes a shine to cooking--and soon--because I am seriously ready to retire my apron.

I'm partly to blame

At work the other day, a colleague asked what DH was doing with his day off.

I said, "Well, he's going to Costc..." and then I stopped short when I realized the gravity of what I was saying.

He was going to Costco without a chaperone.

Whenever he joins me on a Costco run, he usually says, 'Hey! We need jam!" and I have to explain that we don't actually need a restaurant-sized jar of jam.

The good news is, he didn't bring home a vat of jam or 6 pounds of nutmeg.

The bad news is, he's terrible at splurge spending.

His "oh what the heck, I'll get this too" items?

A bag of dried mangoes and a gigantic tin of licorice all sorts.

Guess what? None of the girls like licorice all sorts.

And I can only hope that dried mangoes don't have the same effect as dried apricots.

Life lessons from 7 year olds

The girls had a play date with a couple of their friends on Saturday.

The first part involved going to the Hyde Park Santa Claus parade.

When we arrived, we realized we hadn't brought chairs (newbie mistake) so some of the girls sat on the ground while they waited. One girl didn't want to sit down anywhere though...

"A dog might've peed there."

When the parade started, the second or third group was a bunch of people walking their dogs. As they passed us, a Jack Russell pulled its owner right past us over to the grass and promptly laid down a deuce EXACTLY where the kids had been sitting a few minutes earlier.

LESSON:  Sometimes it's good to be cautious.


Later, the excitement of the day started to take its toll, and S had a meltdown. And then another one...

I called her upstairs while I prepared the snack, and applied my patented method of parenting:

"Sweetie, CALM DOWN. What are you freaking out about? Well, that's hardly the end of the world, is it? You need to get a hold of yourself or you can't go back down there and play. NO, you need to CALM DOWN!"

At which point her friend came upstairs, walked over to S, wrapped her in a big hug, and said, "It's okay S. It's okay. I know." S immediately felt better and they went back to playing.

LESSON:  Try being kind instead of being a beyotch.

Huh. Imagine that.

That's what she said

The other night, we watched videos we took of the girls when they were toddlers.

Me: Can you believe how thin and happy mom and pop look in those videos?

DH: Yep, now we're just fat and miserable.

[laughter]

K: You can say THAT again!

Curse this child and her comic timing!

What's happening at our house tonight

DH is doing a show for Movember tomorrow, so he shaved his goatee down to a moustache and now he looks like Paul Sr. from American Chopper.

In related news, K was halfway through brushing her teeth when she realized that there was DH beard hair on her tooth brush.

Also, I was giving pedicures and got a toe nail in my eye.

That's how we roll on a Friday night.

Major milestone

There are some moments in life that need to be remembered and celebrated.

http://www.punchbowl.com/ecards/share/89c5621770324b3dae64

Priorities

If I spent half as much time, effort and energy on cleaning my house as I put into the act of getting every last drop out of the bag inside the wine box...you'd be able to eat off my kitchen floor.

Maybe I just shouldn't leave the house

subtitle: What is WRONG with people?

Taking the train home from Toronto the other day, I was trapped in an enclosed space with an incessant sniffer and a guy going to town on a bag of Doritos. I was pretty sure we weren't all going to get out of that metal tube alive.

On the weekend, we went to see Wreck It Ralph. It was a cute movie, but my experience of it was slightly dampened by the fact that the man in front of me was snoring for the last half hour of the show.

The weird thing was, everyone in the audience could hear it, but his wife, who was sitting right next to him, wasn't doing anything. So then I didn't feel like it was my place to lean over and wake him up. Suddenly, in the last five minutes of the movie, he gave a gigantic snort, everyone in the theatre giggled, and she looked over at him and gave him a nudge.

The worst part was that in the middle of the snoring, the person behind me was sucking every last drop of moisture out of her giant pop. And then shaking the ice cubes around. And then sucking every last drop of moisture out of there again. And then shaking it again.

At this point I leaned over to DH and said, "I'm going to lose my mind."

The WORST worst part was that having someone snoring in front of me in the theatre was like a waking nightmare. A noise that torments me every night had now escaped my bedroom and was torturing me at the Wellington 8! My mid-life, crotchety version of Freddie Krueger.

Clap, clap, clap

I would just like to take a minute to give mad props to my hair.

I was at a conference the past two days, and when I got up yesterday I realized that I had forgotten a) my straightening iron and b) a brush.

So all I had at my disposal was a crappy hotel hair dryer and a comb.

I was not optimistic.

Usually, even with a full arsenal of products and tools at my disposal, I end up looking like low-flow Jerry by the end of the day:

But my hair knew it was go time, and it came to play.

So thank you, hair, for having my back. And for not being on my back, because that's just gross.

Oh. My. Gawhd.

"Hey Mrs. C, what did you do last night?"

"Oh, you know, just puttered around, did some laundry, did some reading, went to bed."
[Fake answer]

"Oh, you know, I drank wine from a box, ate (No Name!) All Dressed chips and watched 4 episodes of Long Island Medium."
[Fake answer]

" ... I watched six episodes."
[Real answer]

E.T.!

We were so excited to watch E.T. with the girls last night!

My favourite quotes from them:

When the mysterious people were chasing him at the beginning: 

"What the? E.T. is just a harmless alien! A misunderstood creature!"

When they were doing the big 'flying bike ride scene':

"E.T.  must be like, 'Huh? I was just dead, and now I'm flying in a bike basket!"

So it all went well--until the end, when one of the girls (along with her mother) was reduced to a sobbing mess. I thought maybe we broke her, but she eventually pulled herself together. She may look just like Pop, but she definitely got my tendency to cry at everything. I'd better warn her now about the Christmas commercials coming out soon...

Bad ways to start the day

1. Doing the Jillian Michaels thing. I mean, it's a good thing, but I hate every minute of it.
2. Reading an email title from Chatelaine as "Best fish faces" and thinking 'what the heck is a fish face?' Then re-reading the email an hour later and realizing that it is actually an article about the "best fish tacos" which makes more sense. Not a LOT more sense, but more. This means that my eyes are totally crapping out on me. The other day I read a line as 'cinnamon mistakes that people make.' Now, I've misread many a recipe, and probably have made a few cinnamon mistakes in my life, but this title actually said 'common mistakes that people make.' Like refusing to admit that they need to wear their glasses all the time now.
3. Having a Meat Loaf song inexplicably stuck in my head. And it's not even Paradise By The Dashboard Light. It's "You took the words right out of my mouth. It must've been when you were kissing me." So not only is it a really terrible song, but it's a lyric that actually makes me want to vomit.

It's time to play the music

K is dressing as a dog for Halloween.

She put the costume on tonight, and then sat down at the piano to play Alouette for the six thousandth time.

Then she suddenly yelled "Mummy! Come look! I'm Rowlf from The Muppet Show!"

Once again, rightly or wrongly, I took this as a sign that I'm a good parent.

And now, in honour of this, please enjoy this video from The Muppet Movie. Because then I will also know that I'm a good friend and blogger.

My name is Mrs. C, and I wear scarves

So, I jumped on the band wagon and wore a decorative scarf with my outfit yesterday.

It went well, I'd say.

So well, in fact, that I'm doing it again today*.

(Note: the scarf was purchased on the same day that I decided to try the 'sweater and leggings' look, just to see once and for all if that was a trend I could join. The answer was a resounding no. Truly, I have passed my 'best before' date for leggings. So I bought the scarf in a last-ditch attempt to look like I'd entered a store in at least the last two years.)

I had expected it to be a very self-consciousness-causing article of clothing, not unlike a hat or a blazer. Whenever I do that, I feel very: "HELLO! I'm wearing a BLAZER!" And my friend J and I have already discussed the Intimidating Hats. I just don't think I'm confident enough to pull off that look.

But yes, I'm embracing the scarf thing.

I just hope people don't think I'm a man--because I know whenever I see a lot of scarf action, my first move is to look for an Adam's apple.




*Different scarf, found in my closet. Why was it there? When did I buy it? I DON'T KNOW!

More words of wisdom

If any of my words live on forever, let it be this very specific piece of advice:

Do not attempt level two of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred DVD the day before you drive on the 401 for the first time.

Because level two of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred DVD is the level where she inexplicably adds the plank pose to all three circuits of the work out.

And when you're driving on the 401 for the first time, after doing level two of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred DVD, you will become progressively more convinced that you are having a heart attack from the stress of driving when, in fact, you just have sore pecs from doing the $*#@ing plank pose.

Break out the rosaries

I have mentioned before that there are a few things I don't do/haven't done which prevent me from feeling like I'm actually a grown up:

• wearing makeup
• drinking coffee
• driving on a 400 series highway

Well, buckle up kiddies, because tomorrow I'm driving to (North of) Toronto!

You have to know that only a monumental occasion would merit such an event.

Like going to see the Go-Go's with A at CasinoRama.

The driving fast and straight part doesn't stress me out, it's the merging that kind of makes me want to vomit in terror. I'll be screaming 'let me in let me in let me in let me in' in the exact same tone as Marge screaming 'let me off' in the clip below:

But I'm embracing the whole experience. Because frankly, I've just let this go on too long and it's become too big of a deal.

So say a rosary for me as I head out tomorrow morning. 

I'm considering putting on a full face of drag queen makeup and grabbing extra large triple triple and just getting it all over with at once.

Apparently he has no idea, either

So the other night I was upstairs in our room reading War and Peace...

I'm kidding, I was reading Entertainment Weekly.

...when I smelled something burning.

DH was in the basement working on his train set. (Ooops, did I just out him as a train geek? Sorry, sweetie!) This often involves soldering or what have you, so I wasn't too concerned.

But then the smell didn't go away.

After about 10 minutes, I finally decided to go downstairs and see what was up.

On the main floor there was definitely a haze in the air.

And when I got to the basement....well, I couldn't have timed it any better. DH was backing out of the room he was working in, carrying a bag of garbage, and I could see that the room was filled with smoke. So as he carefully sneaked out of the room and quietly closed the door, he turned around and saw me standing there.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Nothing.  Just....a little fire."

I'm still fuzzy on the details, but it involved something about ionized alcohol (is that a thing?) and alcohol-soaked rags, and things igniting very quickly. Ask to see the melted spot in the carpet the next time you stop by.

I would just like to state for the record that I did not flip out at any time during this conversation.

I know!

Because I was too busy laughing.

I don't know what my favourite part was...

• The aforementioned perfectly timed entrance
• The fact that he admitted to lighting the Bath and Body Works candle in an attempt to cover up the smell of smoke
• The fact that I eventually noticed he was only wearing one sock (because the other one was ruined when he was stamping out the fire)
• Or his response the next morning when I said, "Remember last night when you almost burned the house down? Were you scared?" 

DH: "Just scared you'd find out."

Ew. And true.

Brushing one girl's hair last night and got to a grody knotted part.

Me: Ew, sweetie, you need to have a shower. I think there's some food in here! And maybe some sneeze, too!

She nodded, and added thoughtfully:

"Yeah. Probably from the same time."

Good thing to consider

DH was talking to the girls about first names and last names the other night.

DH: "Girls, when you get married, will you change your last names?"

E: <thoughtful pause> "Well, that depends."

DH: "On what?"

E: "Well, like, if the guy's name is Johnny Eyeball or something, then no, I probably won't."

Zoom zoom

I drove to work way too fast yesterday.

I blame this on the fact that I heard Live And Let Die (Sir Paul, not Axl), followed by Middle Of The Road by The Pretenders.

If it catches you in the right mood, you can't help but get swept up in the grandeur of Live ... Well, except for the ragga part, but really, that's only, what 4 bars? Barely enough time to take your foot off the accelerator.

And then Middle Of The Road! Quite enjoyed it, trucking along...until she got to:

I'm not the cat I used to be
I've got a kid I'm thirty-three

Even as we approached that lyric, I kind of hoped that it was 'I've got a kid I'm forty-three'. But I knew in my heart she was going to say thirty-three.

And I remembered singing along with that song, all those years ago, thinking 'yeah, I'm sure she would be tired as hell, thirty-three is really old.'

Luckily I accelerated through my shock, instead of slamming on the brakes in disgust, and still made it to work in record time. Not bad for an old lady.

Children are perplexing

Yesterday, my bright, clever, 7-year-old daughter walked through the kitchen, PAST her father who was IN the kitchen, to the bathroom where I was enjoying a moment of quiet reflection, opened the door, and said, "Can I have a glass of milk?"

That should be a Hallmark card

My husband just said the four greatest words to me:

"Your butt looks smaller."

Parenting FAIL

I was home for exactly 4 minutes last night, in between a hair appointment and a rehearsal. (The sophisitication of my new 'do considerably undercut by the fact that my dinner was a peanut butter sandwich and a Bear Paw...)


S: But we only got to see you this morning!

Me: I know! I wish I didn't have to go, too.

K: And the last time I saw you, you were yelling at me!


Ooof.


Also, mental note to self: If I buy things to give to the children for Christmas, I must be sure to put them away somewhere, so the children don't come downstairs one day WEARING the new clothes.

The times, they aren't a-changin'

I had one goal for this weekend.

And by Sunday evening, I still hadn't done it.

I sat down and tried to do it on Sunday afternoon, and promptly fell asleep.

So I was left trying to do it on Sunday night, during the Emmy commercial breaks.

This means that I have exactly the same work habits I had as a student. You always think, "Oh, if I could go back and do it again, I'd do all of my homework as soon as I got home, and then I'd have the rest of the weekend to relax..." But no, apparently if I had it to do over again, I would still spend the weekend worrying about something that had to get done, but not actually DOING it.

The only difference now is that I didn't spend all day Saturday farting around Square One mall.

A classic from the vaults

DH was reminiscing the other night about the time he and E were watching TV together. She was 3 or 4 years old.

A beer commercial came on, and E looked at DH and said, "Oooh, you should try that Pop! I bet you'd like that one!"

DH: "You know, E, I never met a beer I didn't like."

E nodded knowingly.

"Yeah. And I never met a cookie I didn't like."

The mind wobbles

No word of a lie: today, my hair looks like Hot Lips Houlihan's.

Which reminds me:  the other day at work, I was walking around with all my keys jangling, and I said I felt like Schneider. <crickets> The two guys I was speaking with had no idea who that was.

Which also reminds me: we have a grade 9 student helping out on a show I'm working on. I put on a big, black, curly wig as part of my costume, and started singing If I Could Turn Back Time. <crickets> "I don't know who that is."

Can you believe that there are people alive right now who have no CONCEPT of Cher? I mean, love her or hate her--to just have no idea that she even exists?

The mind wobbles. (Name THAT reference!)

Thank you for noticing...

S to me as I was corralling everyone out the door this morning:

"Hey Mommy! You haven't reached full-on freak out mode!"

Time warp?

This is weird.

Last week, I saw not one, not two, but THREE dudes sporting a 90's long hair look.  Like this guy:

Not Gord, or the other pouffy haired guys, but the one on the right. The one who, I believe, has stuck with that hair style through thick and thin and the subsequent passing of two decades, god bless 'im.

This weekend I saw a dude who was so clearly in the '80's, it was amazing. If I could've figured out a way to inconspicuously take his picture with my phone I would've. Scratch that. If I could've figured out a way to take his picture with my phone, period.

Suffice it to say, he had hair like this:

Glasses like this (INSIDE the mall, natch):

And I'm pretty sure he was wearing this shirt:

But here's the kicker:

He was too young to be 'stuck' in the '80's. He had clearly just embraced the '80's. Wholeheartedly.

So, I don't know what's going on, but if I see a dude looking like this next weekend, I'll know that something's up:

Something AWESOME.

Well, it's a look

Nothing says "I give up" quite like putting on a different coloured nail polish over your chipped and grown out pedicure.

Also, my hair was doing such a weird Farrah Fawcett flip thing today, I had no choice but to opt for a pony tail.

Which will highlight the 10 minute root touch up I did last night, that has left a decidedly Sun-In tinge to the whole thing.

Look out world, here comes Mrs. C!

Who ARE these people?

So, good news, Web Kinz were on sale at Carlton Cards stores this weekend.

I know!!

We managed to talk the girls out of going there Friday night (because, frankly, DH had stopped at the LC on the way home, and the patio was just too lovely to let it sit empty that evening), and we convinced them to 'do chores' (AKA help clean the house) Saturday morning, in order to 'earn' the Web Kinz.

So maybe not a gold star in parenting, but at least a silver or bronze, I would think, for making them put forth an effort before getting the things. Though I'm still torn over that, because helping to clean the house is just part of being a member of society, isn't it? Nobody buys ME a Web Kinz when I clean the bath tub! Boy, if I got a toy for every time I cleaned the bath tub, I'd have....half a dozen toys by now! :-)

Then the girls got invited out for a swim.

So there was a moment of high drama, when they couldn't decide whether they wanted to go swimming or go get the Web Kinz.

Now, I'm going to share the blame here, because this was actually DH's idea:

"Okay, guys, here's what we'll do. You go to O's for a swim, and Mummy and I will go to the store. Mummy will take a picture of the Web Kinz, send it to O's mom, and then you can pick the Web Kinz you would like."

I know!!

So, I drop the the kids off at O's, and start to explain the plan to O's mom. The best part was, I got as far as "So, I'll take a picture of the Web Kinz..." and then O's mom nodded and added, as if this were perfectly normal behaviour, "...And then you'll text it to me and the girls can pick what they want? Of course, no problem!"

And then she added:

"As our parents no doubt would've done for us."

And we laughed.

Because we're the parents who say 'where did this sense of entitlement come from? Why do kids these days seem to run the show? WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH PARENTS THESE DAYS?'

And yet, I am apparently one of those parents.

But this shouldn't come as a big surprise, because, as I've mentioned before...I have no idea what I'm doing.

Day One

In a moment of weakness two days ago, I bought two Jillian Michaels work out DVDs.

In my defense, they were on sale for $5.99.

I was mentally preparing myself to embark upon, what she so quaintly calls the 30 DAY SHRED, when the damn things showed up yesterday! I really thought I was going to have at least the weekend to detox (2 week visit with mum = lots of wine) before starting...

But I figured this insane promptness on the part of Canada Post was a sign.

So I started this morning.

My early observations:

I was glad to find that she didn't yell at me. She seems to yell at people a lot on The Biggest Loser, and I wasn't convinced I would leap out of bed at 6:00 am just for the opportunity to have her yell at me.

I completed the work out less than 2 hours ago, and I'm already climbing the stairs like I'm 90 years old.

I totally felt like I was going to honk when it was done. Again: leaping out of bed every day for the opportunity to feel nauseous? We'll see ...

They sound nice though...

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror the other day, and two words immediately popped into my head:

"Zaftig."

"Rubenesque."

So that ain't good.

It's not just me

The other day the girls' babysitter asked if the kid playing soccer at the park was their cousin, Adrian.

K: "Well, if he's wearing Agent P shoes, it's him."

[Agent P is a character from a kids' show called Phineas & Ferb. When you're done reading this, go watch an episode. It's HILARIOUS.]

B, however, didn't quite hear that.

Her reply:

"Asian pee shoes??"

This makes no sense

I find it odd that my pickiest eater...the one who will shriek in agony if you put anything interesting or new in front of her...likes really odd flavour combinations.

Like tonight, when she was dipping her french fries in her cream soda. ("The salt is what really makes it taste good!")

I may have a problem

On my way home just now, I was congratulating myself for curbing my spending. I was amazed to realize that I hadn't stopped in at Superstore AT ALL this week to do any lunchtime shopping.

Then I realized that it's only Tuesday.

Also, speaking of Tuesday, I've had this song in my head all day:

Which is weird, because, y'know...it's TUESDAY. I really don't think my Tuesday night is going to be so rockin' that it's worthy of this theme song. It's not like I'm going to go to a outdoor concert and see Thor wailing away on the saxophone. Although that would be awesome.

But maybe it means that The Lost Boys will randomly be on TV tonight. Which would also be awesome.

That's a new one

It was very sweet that Sarah was measuring her love for me and said, "I love you through a black hole."

(Because black holes go on forever...)

It was unfortunate that I heard it as, "I love you through a butt hole."

P.U.

Whenever I see a hipster dude walking around in his Simon LeBon jazz shoes with no socks on, all I can think of is how wicked stinky his feet must be.

I feel sorry for girls who have only these dudes and the mini-bike goofs to choose from for their future spouses.

Um, no.

We returned from a week at the cottage today. (I missed you all terribly and thought of you often, but typing out blog entries on my phone is just not worth the aggravation...)

I had an overwhelming urge to go to Costco. And since I am weak-willed, I went.

Guess what they have at Costco?

CHRISTMAS STUFF.

I stood there with my mouth agape. AGAPE, I tell you!

On an unrelated note, I picked up two Christmas presents for DH today.

God, I'm suggestible.

Wow.

I'm sure there are times in my life when I feel less graceful than when I'm putting on a one piece bathing suit on a humid day...I just can't think of any right now.

Her mother's daughter

K ran past me the other night, holding a bottle of water:

"Mummy I'm going to go do a spit-take in the bathtub!!"

So she's definitely my daughter, because a) she's a fan of classic comedy, and b) she hates a mess.

Keen powers of observation

I wore a pair of pants yesterday that I bought....at least five years ago.

I've worn them dozens and dozens of times.

Yesterday, I felt a tag poking me. When I checked it out, I saw a 2 x 2 tag that says REMOVE BEFORE WASHING OR WEARING.

Question 1:  How the heck did I not see or feel that tag ONCE in the last five years?

Question 2:  What the heck was supposed to happen to me (or the pants) if I didn't REMOVE BEFORE WASHING OR WEARING? Apparently I've been living on borrowed time...

You do the math...

Plus 10 punk points for going to the show last night and staying 'til the end.
Plus 10 punk points for wearing my boots.
Minus 5 for worrying that the boots might aggravate my sore hip.
Minus 10 points for drinking Bud Light all night instead of 50.
Minus 5 points for yawning through most of the last set.
Plus 5 for partaking in the 3 am gyros (even though I just had fries).
Minus 10 for eating them at home, in bed, watching a rerun of the Olympics opening ceremonies.

So rad!

Trying to do my hair and head out the door this morning.

My bangs are sticking up exactly the way I wanted them to in 1989!

17-year-old me is very excited about this.

Unfortunately, it looks ridiculous on 40-year-old me.

You know, when they have these heat alerts and set up emergency cooling stations all over the place, they should really set up emergency hat stations for people with hair that just can't handle the humidity.

I got cocky

Remember when I was all self-congratulatory about my parenting skills?

Last night everyone (DH included) played a rousing game of 'type things into the iPad and then laugh hysterically at how it sounds when the iPad repeats it.'

S was very excited for her turn.

The same child who noted what a good singer David Bowie is then typed into the iPad:

"I like big butts and I cannot lie."

I choose to believe that I'm right

Driving along in the Loser Cruiser and Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes came on the radio.

I explained that this was David Bowie, "the guy from Labyrinth."

S declared: David Bowie is a good singer!

I felt pride and a sense of relief, knowing that I was raising my children properly. 

Is it wrong that this is how I judge my parenting skills?

Well, that's that

As I flip-flopped across the LCBO parking lot with a bottle of white wine under my arm, I approached my car, spotted the copy of Eat, Pray, Love that had just been given to me, and realized....I have become a cliche.

Bathroom humour. No, really.

The other day I had to give a co-worker the 'don't go in there' as she approached the bathroom.

Which is embarrassing, but at least there was a direct admission of guilt, which could at least inspire some sense of respect, right?

I mean, would it be better to not say anything, and then have her walk out thinking 'WHAT did she EAT?' And then just have that go unspoken between us forever?

Which approach would you choose?
And is it different for guys? Is it more like something to brag about?

And on a slightly unrelated note:

Even though you know you locked it, is there anything that makes you jump as high as someone jiggling the door knob while you're in there?

Maybe I should've gone to Wal Mart

As I drove to Zellers today, I was treated to the sight of a large, shirtless man sitting on his stoop, clipping his toenails.

Aside from being alarming and disturbing...it made me feel a lot better about my back fat.

But then I thought, "Surely to God I can set the bar a bit higher than big topless pedi dude."

How can this go wrong?

I think the best time to decide to go see the Go-Go's at Casino Rama is when both parties involved (in separate cities) admit to having consumed several glasses of wine.

So, I don't want to brag, but I'm going to see the Go-Go's. (Note: I'm totally bragging.)

Good to know

So, it turns out that the one, true and ultimate thing that makes me go stark raving, foaming at the mouth, bat-shit crazy is: giving medication to a child who is so determined to not take the medicine that she throws it back up on me.
Just in case anyone was trying to figure out some Saw-like torture situation for me...

Fly Ninja

DH is a fly ninja.

The other night, he dropped two who were in mid-flight, and then he got one that had landed ON the fly swatter.

So then I called him to action the next day because a fly was attacking me when I was getting out of the shower (what is it with bugs and me and the shower?)...and he got it by snapping it WITH A TOWEL.

I think hearts were coming out of my eyes.

Gonna fly now

This should give you an idea of how low I've set the bar for myself/how filthy my bathtub was...

I finished cleaning the tub, and now I've got the Rocky theme song in my head.

Lovely

I went for a walk at lunch in the sweltering heat.

Came back, did some work, got up to get something, came back to my desk, looked down, and realized I had left a big, sweaty, wet spot on my chair.

I felt like Poppy from Seinfeld.

I can't make this stuff up

As the girls were literally climbing all over DH yesterday (while he was trying to lie on the lawn chair and relax), one of the girls pulled up the blanket they had put over him and yelled:

"Okay guys, look out, I'm going in by his butt cheeks! Hey Pop! I named your butt cheeks! They're named Tooty and Bob!"

But it's still good

The self-righteousness I feel when I hang the clothes out to dry is always tempered by the fact that my neighbours can see all of our raggedy undies.

It's the new style

My hair air-dried today.

When I left the house, I felt confident that I looked casually chic, in wind-swept beachy kind of way.

When I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the frozen food aisle at Superstore, however, I realized that  this was not the case. I just looked like I really needed to brush my hair.

It wasn't a choice of one or the other

The other day my nephew was trying to explain to someone that some of the guests arriving that day were relatives of my sister's first husband.  It went something like this:

"They're related to my mom's first husband. She had a husband before, but he died. <shrug> I don't know why she didn't just get divorced..."

It's a curse and a blessing

One of the girls has a bit of a short fuse.

On the one hand, it serves a purpose:

A kid accused S of cheating the other day, and while she burst into tears and the other girls all crowded around her to make her feel better, K marched right up to the boy and said "DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN!"

But on the other hand:

After their class took a field trip to see the play I directed, one of the boys said that he didn't like it. At which point she yelled at him: "DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD MY MOM WORKED ON THAT SHOW?"

So she's either going to grow up to be a masked avenger/defender of justice....or a Fox News political pundit.

I will never want that wagon wheel coffee table

I don't usually get serious with this blog, but I just wanted to take a moment to note the passing of Nora Ephron.

Before there was Tina Fey in my life, there was Nora Ephron.

I don't think a week goes by in which I don't in some way refer to When Harry Met Sally... (You'd be amazed at how often there is too much pepper on my paprikash, or how regularly I would be pleased to partake of some pecan piiiieeeee.)

And, although it wasn't my favourite, the scene in Sleepless in Seattle, where they make fun of women trying to explain a scene in a movie without bursting into tears? Well...this past weekend I was in another room and I just heard the ending of Toy Story 3, and I welled up. (And, just for fun, try getting my friend A to describe the episode of MASH where Henry Blake dies! Niagara falls.....)

In the lead-up to my 40th birthday, all I could hear was Meg Ryan wailing, "And I'm going to be FORTY!"

I just think Ms. Ephron had a wonderful ear for dialogue, she wrote great, fun characters for women, and she was genuinely funny.

PLUS she had an awesome first name, even if she did spell it wrong.

It could be a Public Service Announcement

The girls came up with quite a song the other night.

It started with all of them chanting: Sitting on the TOILET... Sitting on the TOILET! (x 50)

And then E broke it down with a stirring rap. It was about not disturbing someone when they're 'sitting on the toilet.'

She had the flailing rap arm movements down and everything.

And then she closed with: PEACE! RESPECT THE POOP!

Well, duh...

Add this to the long list of things that I never really thought about, and then one day I said "Ooooooh, I get it!"

Like the time I was writing with a pen and then suddenly understood why it was a called a 'ball point pen.'

Or the time I stopped to think about the word 'boardwalk.'

Yesterday E was talking about horses, as usual, and she said something about the pony's tail....and I suddenly said, "Oh! Ponytail! 'Cause it looks like a pony tail! I get it!"

I am so smrt.

30 000 page views?

You guys are swell!

My friend L emailed yesterday to let me know that she was number 30 001, and I offered to take her out for lunch!

So let me know if you're ever a milestone visitor, maybe I'll send you something awesome, like....a Tupperware hamburger press (only used once!), or an autographed Boz Scaggs album*! (Just kidding, I'll never part with that sucker.)

*Autographed by me, not Boz.

Anyhow, thanks for coming back again and again and again. I truly do appreciate it!

You're welcome

To all of the customers and passers-by who were at the Superstore gas station as I was filling my car tires while wearing a flitty summer frock: I hope you enjoyed that glimpse of the granny panties.

Mad improv skillz

The girls were playing Little Pet Shop yesterday.

One of the girls cut heat, and without missing a beat she instructed her sisters to "pretend something just exploded."

Better than a tie?

E is sick.

She threw up this morning, and DH was holding her hair back.

When she finished she said, in her weak, post-throwing up voice:

"First of all, thank you. And second, happy father's day."

Mark your calendars

Remember that time, like, 14 years ago, when I went to that Tupperware party and I bought that hamburger press thing, mostly because it reminded me of my stepmother, but also because I was convinced that I would use it all the time, and everyone laughed and said there was no way I would ever make hamburgers from scratch?

Tuesday, June 12, 2012 - a day that will live in infamy. I finally used the damn thing.

I am in hell

There is a strange smell to my desk.

It's been 9 months, so I just have to accept that it's not going away.

The kicker? It smells like cheese.

Those who know me know that I'm an anti-cheesite.

What did I do to deserve this punishment?

Well, no, I know what I've done over the years, but really, in all the times I ever imagined what my payback might be, it honestly never occurred to me that it might involve having to work in a cheese-funk for the rest of my days.

Well played, Poetic Justice....well played.

I just need a muumuu

The shoes I'm wearing today are really thwappy. Every time I get up to do something, I feel like Mrs. Roper.

You're welcome

The other day I was cruising along and Landslide came on.

I started givin' 'er with such gusto, I actually felt compelled to roll up the windows.

Astute move of self-respect-preservation? Or cruel act of denying the world my heartfelt Stevie Nicks tribute?

Discuss.

Quick question

To all the other parents out there--

Exactly when does the:
'STOP TOUCHING ME'
'NO, YOU'RE TOUCHING ME! STOP TOUCHING ME!' stage end?

That's how my day started today, with two of them in my bed starting that epic battle.

I was ready to touch them both right out the window.

Vote Of Confidence

K: Mummy, technically I hate it when you do shows.

Me: Well, maybe you'll think differently after you see this one.

E: Yeah, this show is gonna kick butt. Because, as we all know, Mummy directed it!

K: But E! Mummy's not a PROFESSIONAL director!

If it doesn't bother her...

Me: Do you find it weird that you're playing with your toes and then eating your sandwich?

Child looks at feet, looks at sandwich, looks at me.

"Nnnnnnnnope."

Parenting is gross, part 59

There was a very strong scent of whiz in the girls room last night. (Please remember how hot is was yesterday, so you can imagine the...intensity of the scent.)

After searching every nook and cranny for a good half hour (and enlisting one girl's help--which yielded this field report: 'the smell gets really bad when you're standing by my bed, but I checked my bed and it just smells like feet') DH finally gave up in frustration. He tossed some things in the garbage can, and then suddenly realized:

"Someone peed in the garbage can."

Well this is attractive

I'm wearing a swingy summer dress. In celebration of this, and in deference to how the dress fits, I'm also wearing a foundation garment in the form of spandex 'boy shorts.'

At approximately 9:00 am things started going south. More specifically, the top part started going south and the bottoms of the legs started going north, and now I have a sort of rolled up spandex hula hoop around my lady parts.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty...

So, did you like it?

E: "I just have to tell everyone how gross those crackers are. All I can say is, when I ate it, it felt like I was eating a dead bug. I thought I would enjoy it, but it was the exact opposite."

Walks away, shaking her head muttering, "EXACT opposite."

Today I am a grown up (part 2)

I chose comfort over fashion when buying shoes today.

I had on a really cute pair of black sandals with a really high heel that made my legs look AMAZING and basically made me feel like I was 25. 

Also, I wouldn't have been able to stand up in them for more than five minutes, and I started to lose circulation in my toes while I was standing in front of the mirror admiring them.  

Then I tried on a pair of cute (but no superlative in front that) sandals that are really quite nice, acceptable, comfortable shoes.

Also, the fastening system on them....appears to be......<whispering> velcro.

So I guess this post should actually be called "Today I am a senior citizen."

Working at cross purposes

Is it wrong that the whole time I was Zumba-ing this morning, I was just thinking about going to Superstore at noon to buy that S'mores pie I saw in the Insider's Report yesterday?

I think Galen hit it out of the park this time.

Well, who could ever forget the first time?

The other day K wistfully said, "I'll always remember the first time I tried beatboxing..."

It begins...

I was listening to a college radio station yesterday, and the news was read by someone named Brittany/Britney/Brittani/Britnee.

And, as predicted, I found it difficult to take anything she said seriously after she introduced herself as Brittany.

Can the days or Dr. Brittanii Smith and Judge Britney Jones be too far behind?

At least it's not my fault

Within ten minutes of getting home last night, all three girls were in tears over various injustices they were suffering.

Me: WHAT is going on in this house? Are you guys all super tired or something?

K: (accusingly) NO! We're crying because it's MONDAY!

I didn't know that was a legit reason! I mean, I know we all FEEL like crying on Mondays, but I didn't know we could just go with it! Awesome.

When did Forrest Gump get here?

K: You want to talk about uncomfortable? What about the grass [at the Agriplex]? I sat on it for THIRTY MINUTES at gymnastics!

Me: So it was really uncomfortable?

K: YES!  (pause) It poked me in the but-TOCKS.

It's a toss-up

I am trying to decide at what point I felt the most ridiculous the other day...

Was it:

a) when I drank a juice box with my lunch?

b) when I followed it up with eating a pudding cup for my afternoon snack?

c) when I sneezed and managed to gob all over myself?

Belly laugh

Oh man....I haven't laughed like that in ages.

It involved me walking into the bathroom last night while DHwas in there....and DH thinking it was my mother walking in.

Now here I go again....what a good stomach work out....

I can only imagine

I was picking up the girls at a friends house the other night, and there was general pandemonium upstairs as the three of them, two friends, an older sister, and her friend all continued playing.

As we grown-ups were chatting downstairs, I heard this:

<YAAAAAAAAAHHHHH - general noise of playing - AAAAAH>

THUD.

Pause.

"I thought you said you were good at that."

Yawn!

My mum visiting (x hard on my liver) - two nights of bad sleep + character on Kick Buttowski saying "Stay alive! No matter what happens, I will find you" = good start to the weekend

Seriously, though, is this how our parents and grandparents felt when Bugs Bunny would do random opera references?

Well that was painless

So.

I'm 40.

Seems like I've been ramping to it for a year, and now here we are.

Not too bad so far.

And really, what's the option? I'll take being 40 over...not.

Plus, I've always felt that I don't want to be 80 and think back to what a weiner I was, whining about turning 40.

One exciting present I received was winning an 11-piece Paderno cookware valued at $699.99 from savealoonie.ca!!

My friend J suggested I should've just asked for the money.

I said I should just take $700 worth of cookie sheets instead, and that would keep us in chicken fingers for the rest of my life.

But maybe it's a sign from the universe that this is the year when I will learn to embrace cooking.

And maybe, in the immortal words of Wayne Campbell, monkeys will fly out of my butt.

Lost in translation

We were watching Despicable Me the other night, and one of the characters referred to a heinous crime.

The girls giggled.

Then one of them said, "Butt." And they giggled some more.

It took me a moment, but then I realized:

"No, girls, he said HEINOUS crime. Not ANUS crime."

New grey hairs

Overheard by another mom in the schoolyard yesterday:

Friend: Someone said a bad word!

S: What one?

E: I don't know, maybe the C word!

So the mom emailed to ask "what's the C word?"

I assured her that they have given me this heart attack before. They once announced that someone at school said the C word, and I nearly dropped my fork. When I casually asked what the C word is, they spelled out 'C-R-A-P.'

_____________________


One of the girls mentioned a boy in their class last night.

I looked at her and smiled, and there was a meaningful pause. Then she stated matter-of-factly:

"I think he's into me. I think he's interested."

When in doubt, don't

A colleague came up to my desk yesterday.

"So, how was your --"

And when I turned around to greet her, she gasped and stopped in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God, you look --"

And there was a moment when I thought "that stuff from Batty's Bath is so fantastic, people are actually going to notice results after only two days! This is awesome!"

" -- awful! You look so tired! Are you feeling okay?"

Until that point, I had, in fact, felt wonderful.

So let's just add "You look tired" and "Are you feeling okay" to the list (along with the number one entry-- "Are you pregnant?") to the list of Things You Should Never Say To A Woman.

No, but, wait...

I went to the market to get a smoothie yesterday. (I'm on a smoothie kick. I blame random Chatelaine articles.)

The girl told me the total.

"That comes to four twenty."

Me, trying to show the young, dreadlocked granola-esque server that I'm hip to what the kids are up to these days:

"Oh, that's fitting."

"Yeah, all day today...."

Me, apologizing for pointing out the obvious 4-20 reference:

"Ha, ha. Sorry."

She finished the smoothie (which was delicious, by the way--if you're looking for a good smoothie, the fro-yo place at the market is the way to go), and handed it to me:

"There you go, and you have yourself a good 4-20."

Me, suddenly feeling awkward because now my entire relationship with the smoothie girl is based on a lie:

"Um ... Thanks!"

Was it a full moon?

Last night was an embarrassment of riches in terms of the girls saying hilarious things. Either that, or we were all a little punchy and we found everything hilarious.  Either way, we laughed all night.

Overheard while listening to E play a game with some stuffed animals--this was the superhero confronting the evil genius:
"I'm gonna pop you like a loose tooth that's ready to come out."


During dinner, K burped.
Me: "What do you say?"
K: (pause) "Yeah...that just happened."


Random declaration made by S while getting ready for bed:
"My butt takes place in North America."


And finally, a philosophical thought from K:
"I think heaven looks like the '80's."

And now all I can think of is Jesus with big heavy metal hair...

I am being tested

Every morning I give countdowns to the time we need to be heading out the door.

Every morning, two girls are suited up by the door, and one is still farting around.

This morning I looked in to check on her progress, and saw that she was packing her lunch bag while wearing mittens. She then proceeded to do up the lunch bag by zipping it closed with her teeth.

Breathe in pink. Breathe out blue. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.

This child has been sent to teach me patience.

I am a terrible student.

Nostalgic for 6 months ago?

Overheard conversation:

"Hey, instead of Little Big Planet 2, let's play Little Big Planet 1!"

"Okay!"

(game begins)

all:  "Awwwwww!"

"I remember this music!"

"Oh, remember this part?"

"This brings back such wonderful memories!"

Although, I know they come by their tendencies honestly...I mean, look at the song selections I've chosen to share with you so far.

And to prove my point, here's the song that's been going through my head the last few days. Is it wrong that this song brings me joy? Probably. But just let me know people--I'm not alone, am I? (Mell B. I know you're with me on this one....)

Great Moments In Parenting

S is leaving the house this morning with this song stuck in her head:

Parenting is glamourous, pt 2

Well, we all survived 4 weeks of DH being out of town.

But this past week, I had pretty much given up on proper meal preparations (not that I'm ever too committed to them anyway), so Wednesday night was 'Anything Night.'

My dinner that evening? The crusts from everyone's sandwiches.

Philosophizing

I was trying to have a serious moment with the girls last night, so I carefully launched into the wisdom bomb I was about to drop...

"Wait, girls, seriously, I need you to listen to this. Now, sometimes in life..."

I paused for a breath and E pounced on it with her impeccable timing:

"Wait, do you mean, like, the game?"

Ten minutes of laughing.

"Yes E, I need to tell you that sometimes in life, you'll be driving around and your peg-shaped children will fall out of your car. That's the lesson I wanted to share."

And I'm okay with that

Embarrassing but true (which could also be the name of this blog)--I've been Zumba-ing and Dance Party-ing all this time because I secretly had this fantasy that on my 40th birthday I would suddenly emerge looking fantastic. Like some sort of Biggest Loser-Spring-Out-Through-A-Picture-Of-Me-In-Pyjama-Pants kind of moment--even though I haven't been sequestered, and people would've seen me immediately before I sprang out, but whatever...

But yesterday, when I ate not one, not two, but THREE doughnuts...I had to admit to myself that I may not be as committed to that goal as I thought.

I'm torn

We went to church on Good Friday.

It's a very long and solemn service.

About 10 minutes in, K gave me the universal signs for "I'm hungry" and "I'm thirsty."

As the service dragged on, she started getting more and more restless.

When we got to the part when the cantor sang who we were supposed to pray for, and it just...kept...going...K started clawing at her face and lying down on the pew, and basically acting like every minute spent there was slowly killing her.

And I was torn, because I knew I should discipline the behaviour--but really, we were all thinking the same thing.

That's quite a back story

E was playing 'vet' the other day, and someone brought her a patient and she said, "Oh good, money, money, money!"

And S said, "You don't need money, you're a vet!"

E replied, "Well, I'm still living in my parents' basement, so I need to get enough money to buy my own house."

When did socio-economic concerns enter into schoolyard games?

Lovely

Nice--when did I turn into that old woman who burps all the time?

Also, I had a wicked stomach ache last night. In my twenties, I would've just assumed I ate something that didn't agree with me. Now that I'm older, I was all "OH MY GOD, I'M DYING."

Getting older is not pretty.

Now I'm torn

I can't decide which is a worse way to start the day:

Spider in the shower or Mouse turd on the desk

I mean, both are gross and alarming...but with spider in the shower you're all naked and vulnerable.

Then again, with mouse turd on the desk, you don't want to touch anything else, and you're creeped out for the rest of the day. And you spend the day searching every corner of the office for any other signs of mouse turds. And you keep flashing back to the time you ate sunflower seeds in a bag at your old desk, and then AFTERWARDS you noticed that the bottom of the bag was all chewed up.

But anyhow, full points to the mouse for having a sense of humour -- it left the turd on my mouse pad.

Very true

Last night, one of the girls said, "You know, I can make myself go pee every time I go to the bathroom."

Me: "Wow, that's some talent."

Her: (wistfully) "Yeah, but I can't get up on a stage and do that."

Road trip!

(Note: we were driving to Byron)


Last night we piled in the car to head to our friends' house for dinner.

K exclaimed: We should listen to our favourite song!

Me: Okay....what's our favourite song?

K: Come on Mummy! It's a road trip! SIR DUKE! CRANK IT!

Can't argue with that.

I suggest you do the same.

Conversation during this song:

E: Stevie Wonder doesn't have any bad words in his songs. You know why? 'Cause he's just a great guy.

...

S: He's still alive you know!

E & K: Really?

S: Yeah! And he was even alive back in the '80's! I bet he was even--Mummy, was he alive in the '70's?

Me: Yes, he recorded this in the '70's.

S: OH MY GOSH! He was even alive in the '70's!!! And he's still alive NOW!!

E: (quietly, so as not to embarrass me) Uh, S, Mummy was alive in the '70's...

And then just like that...

I know this is too much information, so gentlemen, feel free to stop reading right now...

But I also wonder if this is one of those universal truths that no one talks about until it happens--like when you get pregnant and you get carpal tunnel or your gums bleed, and people say, "Oh yeah, that happens to everyone."

So, I was looking in the mirror at work the other day (the same one that revealed the Eugene Levy eyebrows and Dorothy Hamill hair cut, so clearly I should avoid this mirror) and I suddenly realized that my boobs are old.

They're just looking really...tired. Probably from all the travelling south that they've been doing.

No, seriously, I'm embarrassing

We were heading out the door--to go to Mac's to get some all syrup Super Squishees, mind you--and I got:

"You're not wearing THAT are you?"

For the record, I was wearing what I wore to work that day. They felt I was "too fancy."

I tried to tell them the important wisdom that my mother once told me: you can never look too good. But they weren't buying it.

However, when they were all raring to go and I said 'Well, wait a minute, I have to go get changed' they were suddenly okay with my attire--as long as I wore flip flops with it.

And now I can't decide who was more embarrassed -- them or me.

One minor quibble

This incredible weather is awesome, don't get me wrong.

The only thing, though....(besides the whole 'the earth is warming and we're all going to fry' part)....is that when I'm driving along in the Loser Cruiser with the windows open, I can't blast 101.3 ("the heartbeat of Southwestern Ontario") and sing along with the AM gold hits!

Like the other day: they were not only playing Chiquitita by ABBA, they were playing a MUZAK version of Chiquitita, and I actually felt that I had to turn the channel so people wouldn't hear what I was listening to.

So this summer, if you see me driving around with the windows up, sweating buckets but smiling and flapping my lips to some unheard music....just know that I'm in my happy place.

That was weird

So, the fish...

Everything is going well, nobody's floating yet.

But on Friday when we got home, we couldn't find S's fish anywhere. Like, DH got a flash light out and was searching every part of the tank, and we could not see it.

(Turned out it was hiding in the rock/cave thing.)

But during the time when it was missing, DH said to K:

"K, isn't that weird? We can't find S's fish anywhere!"

K's eyes got wide, and she whispered worriedly:

"Does my fish look fatter?"

That's disturbing

S was eating a penguin-shaped cookie.

"First, I bite the feet off, so he can't run away. Then I bite the head off, so he doesn't have to watch his own death."

E nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I eat them that way too."

Classy

Last night, as I was carring my plate of chicken fingers and fries downstairs (y'know, so we could all eat dinner in front of the TV), and I stopped at the fridge to squeeze a glass of wine out of the box, I thought to myself:

"Mrs. C, you are one classy, classy broad."

Creepy

We bought some fish!

Two are still unnamed (probably a good idea not to get too emotionally attached anyway), but one is Princess. Oh, one might be Mr. Fin but I'm not sure if that has been officially chosen.

I thought working out in front of the disapproving looks of my kids was bad enough, but jumping around the basement at 6:00 am in front of these fish was even more bizarre.

E came down later and immediately went to the tank to check on them.

Me: I don't see them right now, I wonder where they are?

E: They're probably freaked out by your dancing. FREAKED OUT, I tell you!

Slow news day

The children haven't said or done anything hilarious in the last 48 hours.

I haven't done anything embarrassing (but the day ain't over yet).

While we wait for anything worthy of report, please enjoy this video of Gene Gene The Dancing Machine. My friend R sent me a clip yesterday, and now I can't get the song out of my head.

Well that'll teach me

We went to the mall tonight, and I bought a pair of running shoes.

Not, like, shoes that you wear running, but cool running shoes.

Mostly because when we went out, I had to wear the RUNNING kind of running shoes, and I felt like a dork.

So I left the family slumped on a bench and went into the store. Tried on several pairs of Converse, and narrowed it down to two pairs.

One pair was significantly cheaper than the other...but it was also kind of a lame colour.

And I thought about it, and pondered getting the cheaper, slightly ugly pair. But then I gave myself a pep talk:

"Come on, treat yourself this once. You always buy the cheapest stuff, sacrifice so that everyone else can get what they want. Just this once, don't sell yourself short. You're worth it. Get the black and white one stars. They're cool. You're cool. You deserve it."

I walked out of the store with my head held high, and showed my new shoes to DH.

"Oh. Now we have exactly the same shoes."

No wonder I liked them so much. I see them in the front hall every day.

I'm such a maroon.

Now we'll just have to get matching track suits and be done with it.

I'm starting a new club

In traffic yesterday, there was a guy on a Harley in front of me, and another Harley drove by and they gave each other that secret little wave.

And I thought, "I totally want to start doing that to other drivers of mini-vans."

But what would the signal for the Loser Cruiser club be? What sign conveys the fact that you've completely given up? Can we come up with something that will be as effective as that other universal sign of social resignation--wearing track pants in public? I really want to know:

What hand gesture or signal can we give to each other in public?

Suggestions?

Unsolicited truths

I was putting on some pants the other day, and S randomly said:

"Those pants make your butt look big."

Yesterday I was playing Mario Kart with K, and she had to wait for me to finish eating before we could continue.

"It won't take you long to finish that. You have a really big mouth."

Out of the mouths of babes? Nuts to that.


(Also, for those of you following the exciting story of my stage hair....on second sight, it's a little more Mom from That '70's Show than Charlie's Angels. But in my head, I'm still totally Kelly....)

I'm not gonna lie

In the show I'm doing this weekend, I have THE MOST AWESOME HAIR EVER.

I look like one of Charlie's Angels.

(The original show, obviously, we're not recognizing the movies here...)

(And I only mean that I look like a non-specific Angel--it's not Sabrina's bowl cut, and it's not long enough to be Kelly's or whatever's Farrah's name was....)

(It's not Shelley Hack's swooped over to one side look, either.)

It's all curled and feathered and UH-MAZING.

DH couldn't understand why I was so excited about this hair.  I tried to explain:

"What if someone came along and suddenly made you look exactly like G.I. Joe? I spent hours and hours playing Charlie's Angels when I was a kid, and now I look like one!"

The other exciting thing about this show?

I've been introduced to the wonderful world of 'foundation garments.' Or, as sister J calls them: sausage casings.

Nuts to you, working out early every morning! I'm going to let spandex do the work for me! Sure, my muffin top has now been squeezed up to my chin, but hey, at least when I dance it doesn't look like 'two pigs fighting under a blanket.'

I could watch this forever

I don't think there are any words for this, but I'll try:

Weird lips, rectangular bass, socks, heavy-set guy who doesn't want to be there, and lady rocking out on the keyboard.

The girls' reviews?

"That's a nice song about being friendly with Jesus!"

"He really says the words clearly, I can understand everything he says!"

So sit back and enjoy the ska-rock stylings of...Sonseed.

It's not always the schoolyard

In the last little while, I've noticed the girls throwing some new phrases into their conversations...


<CRASH>  "My bad!"

"And she was was really bugging me and she was all up in my face..."


I assume these are being picked up from the other kids.

But last night...

I was hunkered down in the spare bedroom with E because she had some kind of tubercular cough going on that was going to keep everyone up all night. Everyone was in the room with us before bedtime, playing, reading the 2003 Guiness Book Of World Records, the usual...

It should be noted that the bed in this room, where my mum stays when she's visiting, is a four post bed.

K was swinging around on one of the posts, and announced:

"Look at me! I'm a pole dancer!"

DH and I played it cool, and I casually asked her where she heard that expression.

"From Grandma! The last time she stayed here S was playing on this and Grandma said 'Tell your mom you're going to be a pole dancer when you grow up!'"

So, in my defence, lapses of judgement are clearly a genetic issue for me.

Scientific reasoning

E came down this morning, obviously stricken by the worst cold in the history of the world.

"I'm not very steady on my feet today."

Later, she explained:

"I was stuffed up all night, so I didn't get any sleep. That's why I'm not steady on my feet--they didn't get any sleep either."

EGADS!

I just watched a video of myself on Facebook.

As soon as it was over, I marched into the bathroom and started applying eye makeup.

I am determined to figure out how to do this whole makeup thing. Sure a month away from my 40th birthday seems a bit late, but now more than ever I think I need to make friends with Max Factor and Maybelline.

I don't know what I can do about the jowls, though...short of wearing one of those head bandages that people used to wear when they had the mumps...

She's too smart for our own good

DH at dinner last night, describing someone's behaviour:

DH: She's being a b-a-d-a-s-s.

K's eyes got wide.

Me (trying to cover):  BuhDASS? What does that word mean?

K: I think there's a space in there, mommy.

So, gone are the lazy, hazy days of being able to spell out things in front of the kids. Nice that we tested it with a swear word, eh?

I bought it so you don't have to

Ladies, curiousity and the fact that I'm highly suggestible finally got the better of me, and I bought an Ahhh Bra.

I can't decide if it should be renamed the "Ahhhhh....no. Bra", or the "AHHHHH! Bra" because your boobs look so horrible when you put it on.

Awesome thing about DH, #673

He waits a safe and appropriate amount of time before laughing at me.

Like yesterday, for instance.

After I had spent the better part of the morning remaining calm and reasoning with a child who refused to calm down or listen to reason...said child then started having a meltdown because 'her hair was going up.'

At this point I let a bellow out of me that could probably be heard down the street, and slammed my hand down on the kitchen counter for emphasis.

And then I thought I broke my thumb.

But DH, bless his heart, asked me if I could bend my thumb (I could) and then didn't comment on it again...until 8 or 9 hours later, when he thoroughly and rightfully mocked me for my behaviour.

"Could you imagine if you actually broke your thumb? Having to EXPLAIN how you broke it? That would've been hiLARious!"

Indeed.

LOOK WHAT WE FOUND!

Once upon a time, there was a busy theatre in a busy mall downtown, called the Cineplex Odeon Galleria Cinema. And at that theatre, they put something called "butter" on their popcorn, as opposed to the "golden topping" they put on the popcorn at Famous Players (ptooey).

And the people who worked at that busy theatre had to 'upsell' to get people to put extra butter on their popcorn. 

"Would you like extra butter on that? It's butter in the middle and on top, for only an extra 25 cents!"

(We won't discuss the time that we were selling Goobers and Raisinettes and we had to offer those every time. "Would you like some Goobers with that, sir?" People thought I was offering to hork in their popcorn...)

And if you were successful in convincing someone to buy extra butter, you put that 25 cents (for small, 50 for medium, 75 for large) under your till, to keep track of how much extra butter you were selling.

And there was a young lady who worked there for many summers. And she enjoyed the job, and eating her body weight in popcorn, and seeing free movies...but she had a dream.

And that dream was to sell the most extra butter and to one day be the Butter Queen.

(A title she came up with, which strangely did not catch on with the regular winners of the title.)

And one day that dream came true.

And to commemorate it, her wacky mother bought her a present:

And 20 years later, the young lady's husband found the shirt in a box full of awesome, and there was much rejoicing.

The end  .....?


Yeah, no, that is actually the end.

Man, the '80's were cruel

Was going through my high school yearbooks last night...

I'd just like to issue a public apology/thank you to anyone who chose to be seen in public with me during those years. My hair and fashion choices, '80's notwithstanding, were questionable at best.

In fact, one could argue that I continue to fight the good fight to this day.

There should be a telethon for people like me.

Lent

Here's a partial list of the girls' suggestions for what I could give up for Lent:

Swearing
Nagging
Being on the computer all the time..."so you can spend more time with your family."

So first, I wanted to pass that on to advise you that you are all part of the problem. What would Lent be without sharing some of that Catholic guilt around?

And second, I'm starting to suspect that I'm not really a ray of sunshine to live with...

Even more awesomer

I thought that starting my day by dancing to Rah Rah Rasputin was the pinnacle.

And then there was the Love Boat awesomeness of Boogie Wonderland.

But this morning I started the day by doing Just Dance: ABBA.

I'll pause here to let the enormity of that sentence sink in.


Just. Dance. ABBA.


Not only does one of the dancers wear a white dress that looks exactly like one of the dresses from the cover of Super Trouper....but one of the dances actually involves getting down on your knees and doing a swoopy on-the-floor thing that is a bona fide Darcelle-the-lead-Solid Gold-dancer move!

I just....there are no words....

She may need professional help

Remember in Trainspotting when Ewan MacGregor was trying to quit heroin?

That's pretty much what it was like for K today when we announced that this was going to be a 'screen-free' Family Day. I mean, I don't know if she was having horrifying hallucinations or not, but I'm pretty sure she had the shakes....

(Note, I'm typing this in secret. Not that *I* have a problem....)

I'm officially an embarrassing mom

I let K pick out the songs I danced to this morning on Just Dance 3.

She picked one, then said:

"But I'm just going to watch the screen okay? Not you."

"Not me? Why?"

"Because....it's kind of gross."

What a pair we'll be when we're 80.

Me: Where is the vase?

DH: It's on top of the furnace. (Pause.) It's on top of the oven. (Frustrated pause.) It's on top of that thing that would be hot if there was a fire in it.

Me: The fireplace?

She can really hold a grudge

We were eating chicken the other night, and someone offered K some honey. She very calmly but forcefully replied:

"I will not eat anything made by my mortal enemy."

Memory Lane

D brought over two boxes of albums that have been sitting in my Dad's house for YEARS. Like, DH found a penny in the bottom of one of the boxes, and it was from 1988...

Aside from an alarming number of Liona Boyd albums, there are definitely some gems in there.

Not the least of which is ABBA's Arrival. How many hours did I spend looking at that cover while listening to the record? Wondering where they were coming from, and whether Benny/Bjorn could really fly a helicopter...

But the best has to be the Boz Scaggs album. If you can listen to Lido Shuffle without "Whoa oa oa oooo"ing along, you're dead inside.

In fact, here, try it now:

Your daily bring-down

DH and I kept singing 'See My Vest' yesterday, so he dug out Songs In The Key Of Springfield and we played it for the girls.

I was really enjoying listening to it until I looked at the back cover and saw that it was released in 1997. And then I realized that 1997 was FIFTEEN years ago...

And then when I was putting the girls to bed last night, we were talking about that classic piece of cinema, Rock 'n' Roll High School.

After discussing how the various members of the Ramones died (a depressing conversation in itself), the girls then asked when that movie was made.

1979.

THIRTY-THREE YEARS AGO.

And do you know what that made me want to say?

Except instead of "Major crimes?" I would say "Thirty-three years?"

Y'know, because "Major crimes?" would make no sense.

D'oh

Here's a note you don't want to get from an IT person shortly after you return from driving across town to deliver a piece of equipment to him that you believe is broken:



"Hi, the issue with the device is that it was not turned on. You need to press the power button."

Parenting is glamourous

E runs through the basement:

"So I says to Mabel, I says---WHOA."

She stops in her tracks as she comes running into the bathroom as I am pulling up my pants.

Pause.

"Uh, Mommy. Your underwear looks like it's skin coloured. And that is really disturbing for people who come into the bathroom when your pants are down."

Sorry. I'll try to be more considerate next time.

Oh no!

We're at 20 001 viewings, and I didn't even post anything today!

I don't deserve you guys....

In other news, tonight's the first rehearsal for that show where my character is described as "looking good."

So now I guess we'll see if the early morning Zumbathons have paid off!

But I shouldn't get my hopes up, I guess, because one of the moms at the birthday party was talking about workout routines the other day, and when I was telling her about Zumba, she kept saying, "And it works?... You're sure it works?... So, does it work?"

In retrospect, she was a little too incredulous, if you know what I mean...

For those who were wondering...

Yes, we did manage to get them a present. DH picked up Mario Kart (with enough 'steering wheels' for everyone) on the way home from work on Friday.

I don't think there's ever been a faster transtition from relief to regret, though, as they were all fighting about what character they were going to be within five seconds of opening it.

Except maybe for the year that Santa brought them a toy keyboard and a toy guitar...to go with the kids' size drum set...

That's some good parenting right there.

Tomorrow I will have to change the banner on this blog, because tomorrow I will be the mother of 7-year-old triplets.

This is a text message I sent DH today at around 11:30 am.

"Oh crap, we forgot to get presents for the girls!"

<Slow, sarcastic clapping>

Bra-vo.

Dinner and a Movie

Remember that show? The "cooking show" that was an interstitial during movies shown on TBS?

I've been thinking about it a lot lately, because apparently it is "Yippee kiy yay" day at school on Friday.

Which means that Pop has been saying "Yippee kiy yay Mr. Falco!" all week.

Note: while trying to find a clip of Die Hard as shown on Dinner and a Movie, I realized that everyone refers to TBS' terrible dubbing of the line as 'Yippe kiy yay Mr. Falcon.' But I stand by Mr. Falco at least on the version that we watched back then--gotta be in '98 or '99--because we have been saying Yipee kiy yay Mr. Falco ever since. Or even if we're wrong--Mr. Falco is funnier.

I fondly remember Paul Gilmartin sounding so mystified afterwards:

"What? But...Who is Mr. Falco?"

Sadly I can't find an archive that lists the recipe they made that night. But any show that made 'Obi-Wan Cannoli' during Star Wars and 'Can't Go To School, I Falafel' for Ferris Bueller is okay in my books....

Not to be cruel...

...but take the time some night to watch a documentary on PBS.

Study the talking heads in it closely.

And then let it dawn on you: this is how they chose to look, knowing they were going to be on TV.

It's a Pavlovian reflex

We were channel surfing Sunday afternoon and happened to find Rocky.

(Which is funny because the night before we were looking for the movie The Mask on Netflix, and joked about making sure that we didn't accidentally watch Mask, because the evening would take a very different turn.)

(I just realized that was a pretty big jump between those two thoughts, but I trust you're all with me. If not, ask me to re-enact the final scenes from Mask for you sometime. I'm guaranteed to burst into tears, or your money back!)

Anyhow, we started watching, and Rocky was punching slabs of meat, and Adrian was suddenly wearing eyeliner, and all of a sudden I heard those trumpets start, and Rocky started running through the streets of Philadelphia, and I'll be damned if I didn't get goosebumps! Even after all these years, it is a basic human instinct to get teary/inspired by seeing that big palooka run up those steps!

The most shocking part, though, is that shortly after that scene, Sam leaned over and whispered:

"I've never actually seen this movie."

How is that even possible?

How can a dude with a vowel at the end of his name NOT have seen Rocky? 

That's like my friend T, who is Austrian and he's never seen The Sound Of Music!

It just doesn't make any sense. 

OR perhaps I just assume that everyone was also raised on--and bases all of his or her life experiences in--a pop culture framework.

No. 

No, it's definitely them that are weird.

The kid's got a way with words...

The same child who so eloquently explained her headstand skillz the other day has struck again.

While vigorously bopping along to ABBA, she exclaimed:

"It feels like my brain is on vacation!"

Doesn't that just perfectly sum up a person's love for ABBA?


In other news, speaking of brains being on vacation, I'm a spaz and looked at the counter wrong. Unless 900 people read the blog yesterday, we still have a ways to go until we hit 20 000. So if you DID go out and get a tattoo, you need to amend it to commemorating the 19 100th viewing.  I'll pay for the laser surgery, if necessary.

Here's the thing about slow cookers...

...I love the fact that they do the heavy lifting for you. I love sitting at work and realizing that dinner is cooking and kind of feeling like I'm pulling a fast one on someone.

And then you come home, and the whole house smells delicious...

But here's the thing...then you get out of the shower the next day, and start to towel off, and wonder why the towel smells like beef.

In fact, now that I think of it, I had a very loving encounter with a big dog yesterday. Perhaps it wasn't just my sparkling personality that he was attracted to...


In other news, I think we'll pass the 20 000 mark today. I say we all go out and get a commemorative tattoo for the occasion. Thanks youse guyses!

How shall I use this extra time?

FIVE fifty-eight? Why do both clocks in here say FIVE fifty-eight, when it's supposed to be SIX fifty-eight? (full minute of staring looking back and forth at both clocks) Awww MAAAN....

Now I feel a lot of pressure to use this time wisely.

But I thnk we all know it will be frittered away surfing the net.

Or I could spend it sitting here pondering the meaning of life.

I should psych myself up for it the way S did the other day:

She sugggested something and I said, 'Good idea, S!'

S: (arms in the air like she'd just won a race) Yeah! THINKING! Wooo!

Canada's Worst Cook?

I made a dinner last night that turned out so weird, after two bites I stood up and said, "Okay, what kind of sandwiches would you like?"

Is this anatomically possible?

I never would've guessed, but it appears that all of my 'get up and go' is located in my butt.

This must be the case, because as soon as my butt hit the couch, my get up and go suffocated and died and now the stew that was going to be prepared and put in the slow cooker tonight is just not gonna happen.

Flurg.

S'true

First, some context:

I know I'm late to the party with these videos, but I just saw them last week, and they made me laugh. 

I laughed because it's true, women do say some silly things that men would never say. But surely I'm self-aware and mature enough to not exclaim pointless things like "I had SUCH a good sleep!"

But last night as I was crossing the room to get into bed I said, earnestly:

"I don't think I drank enough water today."

DH's laughing response from under the covers:

"...Shit girls say..."

Dang.