Weird things they have said (lately)

Me: <singing a song from Jesus Christ Superstar>

K: Remember when we watched that movie together?

Me: Yes. I remember you hated it. Well, you hated the woman playing Mary Magdalene.

K: Yeah. She was weird. <pause> <lowered voice> I think she was hitting on Jesus!

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DH: Why is that plate on the floor? <no answer> How did that get there? <no answer> Why is that plate there? <no answer> How did that happen???

Child: You want to know how that happened? You want to know how that happened? I'll SHOW you how that happened...

<swiftly and decisively puts pyjama pants on her head>

<end of conversation>

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Child playing with her 'stuffies' and talking to them (quietly, to herself) while we get everyone ready for bed.

<bear flies through the air>

Look, it's flying bear! 

<bear does a little dance>

Look, it's dancing bear!

<holds bear's arms out, and his head falls forward and to one side>

<pause>

Look, it's Jesus bear!

Never assume

K lost a tooth yesterday.

This morning when I woke her up, I thought this would be a good way to get her out of bed in a hurry:

"K, go see if the Tooth Fairy came! I wonder what she left for you!"

Her response:

"Mummy, my tooth fairy is a boy, that's offensive. His name is Eddie."

Important pop culture instruction

One project we undertook for the summer was "watch all of the Harry Potter movies."

We're down to the Deathly Hallows, and we watched part 1 on Saturday night.

The girls are into it, which I love. Occasionally I have to give them a heads up before things get really intense...and I've thoroughly prepared them for the fact that things get really crappy before they eventually get better. In the movie the other night, when they were getting really stressed out about Bellatrix, I was glad that I was able to soothe their minds by telling them that she gets hers, from Mrs. Weasley no less, and that, if memory serves me correctly, Mrs. W calls her the 'b word.' But I should point out that I was the only one who was misty-eyed when Dobby took one for the team! Am I raising a bunch of automatons??

Anyhow, after the movie finished, and for reasons I can't fully explain, we started listening to music, and somehow ended up playing Bohemian Rhapsody.

And again, for reasons that completely escape me, but which seemed quite reasonable at the time, DH ended up doing an epic, emotionally raw, sometimes acrobatic, occasionally awe-inspiring interpretive performance (I was going to say dance, but that would be a bit much) to the song.

Personally, I was dying I was laughing so hard.

The girls on the other hand were less than impressed.

We quietly sang "any way the wind blooooooooooows.....", the gong sounded, and there was silence.

And then K announced:

"I may vomit."

Yep, they're mine all right.

Although the first story also relates to the fact that S is our little Italian girl, taking after DH's heritage with her love of all things pasta, olive or cheese-related... But it's also a well-known fact that I talk with my hands. A lot. In fact, someone once said, after watching me from across the room, "Jeez, if we cut off her hands, she wouldn't be able to say a word!"

So, S and I were out for a walk/bike yesterday. She was riding, I was trying to walk quickly enough that she wouldn't end up falling over every two minutes.

She launched into a story about a particularly beautiful front lawn that she saw once, but she was having trouble describing it.

Finally, she said, "Mummy, I'm going to have to tell you when we get home. I can't describe something and ride my bike at the same time--I need my hands."



This one definitely shows that these children are mine, all mine.

Going out to dinner the other night, we were discussing whether or not DH knew where he was going.
E piped up helpfully:

"You know the one, Pop! It's right by the LCBO."

Who says romance is dead?

So, the low-fat/no-fat train is still chugging along. Although I'm happy (relieved) to report that beer and wine have successfully been reintroduced into my diet...

Now I promise I'm not going to turn this into a blog about food and weight loss and how much kale is really the food of the Gods (mostly because I haven't had that kale-related epiphany that everyone seems to be having lately), but I do feel compelled to mention that we're all eating much better and as a result, DH and I have both lost some weight.

So we were talking the other night, and we had this exchange, which I think pretty much sums up the difference between men and women:

Me: You've really lost weight! I like that when I hug you now I feel closer to you.

DH: Yeah, you too! When I stuck my hand down your pants to grab your butt last night, the waistband wasn't so tight anymore.

Scared straight, part two

At 11:30 on Friday night, I woke up with a pain in my upper middle back.

"That ain't good," I thought.

So I went downstairs and did what any right-minded individual would do - I got on the internet and started looking up all the things that could be causing such a pain.

The two likely culprits were my heart or my gall bladder.

I selected b) and chose to wait it out.

After a half hour or so, I started to think, "Well, even if it is my gall bladder, shouldn't I get this checked out?"  Because, well, in the words of my friend L - "Things burst."

So I went upstairs and woke up DH and explained my predicament. 

Then we both came down and pondered our options.

At that point, the pain got MUCH worse, and I said, "Yes. Do it. Call. Call now."

I had remained calm until this point. I kept thinking, "My blood pressure is fine. I'm not cold and clammy, therefore my circulatory system is not being effected, therefore I am fine."

It was at this point, as we waited for the ambulance, that I went cold and clammy. And my arms started tingling, for good measure.

So that's how I spent my Saturday morning - lying on a gurney, and then in a hospital bed, with many wires stuck to me and various fluids being taken from and pumped into me.

But there are many happy endings to this story.

First, it wasn't a heart attack. This became apparent fairly early in the process. Didn't make the incredible pain go away, but still good news.

Second, our neighbour just bought a new truck. So when he heard the ambulance door slam, he thought someone was stealing the truck, and he came outside to check on it. He then stayed with the girls while DH came up to the hospital with me. Have I mentioned how lucky we are to live in this house?

Third, we asked the ambulance not to turn on the sirens so the kids wouldn't wake up. We got home at 6 am, and they were still asleep. We thought about telling them, but really, what good would come of that? "Hey guys, guess what? We were gone for six hours while you slept last night."

Fourth, I'm riding the low-fat/no-fat flavour train! No, that's not really the happy part, but the fact that I am actually blowing the dust off the ol' Canada Food Guide and taking it seriously is obviously a good thing. I've decided that I don't want to eat any meals that I would be embarrassed to admit to an EMT. Like, for example, when I - at age 41 - had to say, "A chicken burger and fries" when they asked me what I'd had for dinner on Friday. I mean, if I could've at least said, "And a salad" or "And an apple for dessert..."

So I'm off to get an ultrasound of my gall bladder on Friday. I don't really know what the next steps are, but I hope they eventually lead to me being able to eat peanut butter again.

Sleeping with one eye open

 Where I once found pictures of puppies and rainbows, I came home yesterday to this lovely drawing.

Her explanation:

"Mommy. It's just a zombie."