Shopping FAIL! Bedtime WIN!

Today, we met up with our friend L and her girls I & G at Ikea. L was a bit late arriving, since she had to come from the other side of the city, and also since she drives like someone's grandma. (Seriously, L - the gas is the little skinny pedal on the right. ;))

We decided to meet up for lunch. And then, we thought it would be fun to let the three big kids play together in Small Land while the rest of us shopped. J is finally tall enough to be admitted to Small Land. When we found out he could get in, H and I were over the moon! (Imagine the prospect of shopping sans preschooler!) But it was not to be. Because J, after taking far too long to eat and tying everyone up for a prolonged period, refused to go into Small Land. And he started having a tantrum, so we picked him up and just left. And poor L had to shop all by herself while we took J for a much needed nap. She must have been so lonely, shopping all alone, with not even a screaming preschooler for company. ;)

As we drove, we passed what appeared to be a carnival. Big rides. Looked like fun. J wanted to go and play, but we weren't about to have him miss his nap after his earlier display. Besides, there are those pesky height restrictions to think of. J is still pretty short for his age, the result of his continued refusal to eat, and he probably wouldn't come up to most ride height restriction lines. So we took a pass.

H: No, J. You have to be a certain height to ride.
J: I AM a certain height!

Well, he's right. We're all a certain height. But he still didn't get to go on any rides.

**********
Sadly, today's Ikea experience was more familiar to us than we'd like to admit. These days, we just don't get to spend quite enough time with other adults without children present. As a result, four-year old logic is starting to make sense to us. Like so:

J: Look at the big nose on my watch pointing over here.
H: That's an arm, J. Not a nose.
J: But it's on the watch's face!

Incidentally, does anyone know why watches have arms on their faces? Were they designed by Pablo Picasso or something?

**********
J has many interests. Mostly balls and blocks. But sometimes, other toys get his attention. Like paints. Or Star Wars.

H: Maybe they just know we're busy with our two?
J: D2.

(Seriously. Think about it. Say it out loud. It makes sense; I promise.)

**********
In other news, tonight N had a bath. While that doesn't sound like much, it was significant. It was the first time that N did not sob uncontrollably during bath time. He sat up in the tub and splashed happily, chasing after his little toy seal and spraying me with water. He frequently stood up for hugs, smiling happily. And he would lie back, knowing Mommy would catch him, and then roll over onto his tummy to crawl around in the warm soapy water. Such a fun time!

Then the kids went to bed. J wanted snuggles, and I happily complied. Always with a tune in my head, I lay next to my little guy with my eyes closed and I hummed. And J looked at me with love in his eyes, and sang me an impromptu lullaby:

Go to sleep.
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep, and sing.
I love you.
I love you so much.
So go to sleep, and sing.
You will be my mommy forever.
You will be my mommy forever.
And I love you forever.
Now go to sleep.

Sometimes, J can be a bit of a demon. But tonight's lullaby really made up for a lot.

Good night, J. Good night, N. I love you.

In which I declare war. A kind of sad and pathetic war, but war nonetheless

It's April. It is what it is.

Ordinarily, April is tax season. It's crazy busy. There's no time for anything but taxes. Just get them done, get them filed, get them paid. It's April. That's it.

In April, things get chaotic. It's tense. Balance is difficult. Work takes a higher priority, and personal life takes a step back. But it's just April. Not a big deal. The chaos is contained, so I can handle it. Actually, I usually quite enjoy April.

This year, April is my last month of maternity leave. I'm missing tax season. But I haven't escaped the chaos and tension. It's just manifested itself in different ways. Ways that I do not enjoy at all. Ways that make me really miss tax season.

This year, I hate April. Hate it more than I had imagined possible. Hate it with a hatred that exceeds even my hatred of 2008. And we all know how much I hated that year, don't we?

This year, April has been hard on a lot of people, for a lot of reasons. And I haven't felt like posting much during the whole thing, so I haven't.

This year, I grit my teeth, and I wade through April in anger and frustration. But as I have no one with whom I can genuinely be angry or frustrated, I have no outlet.

And so, I have decided to be angry with April. (Yes, the month.) Accordingly, I hereby declare war on April. (Yes, I realize that I sound like a lunatic.) And I assert that April shall bear the brunt of my wrath. Of course, April being a month of the year rather than a tangible object makes it rather difficult for me to wreak the havoc on it that it so richly deserves. But were there a way, I guarantee that I would find it and it would pay dearly for what it has done.

(Stupid month and its stupid intangible properties ... mutter, mutter ...)

It's April. It is what it is.

Note: I'll be back to regular posting as soon as I find my bliss. I know I left it here somewhere ...

Seriously Random

Time for Random Tuesday Thoughts, sponsored by Keely over at The Un Mom. So here goes. Try to keep up.



One of my friends passed away last week, and I've been working on a post in memory. Should be up soon, if I can ever finish it. Looking for the humour in the situation, so it has to be just right; Joe was a born comic, and the sombre wouldn't suit him at all. Ever the comedian, he checked out on April 1st. Which was actually hilarious in its own way, since most people thought it was an April Fool's Day prank. Even at the memorial service, I think some of us expected him to leap out, laughing like a maniac, and say he was just fine. But no. And while you may think it terrible of me to refer to death as "hilarious", Joe would have really liked it. If you knew him, you'd understand. If not, that's a shame. Joe was one of the good ones, and I bet heaven is an even happier place now that he's in it. Remember the good times.

Today, I am the mother of a 4-year old. J's party with his school friends is today, at school. His party with all our friends was Sunday, just before the memorial service. J was very excited, because he'd talked me into making him a cake shaped like a tank. It turned out well; pictures will come. J was walking around for 2 weeks before his party telling everyone. "Mommy's going to bake me a cake! It's an army machine! And it has a BIG GUN!!" J is obsessed with guns. It's a very strange obsession, since we don't allow guns as toys, and neither does school, and neither do his grandparents, and ... honestly, we have no idea why he's so gun-crazy. It's a bit disconcerting. A birthday post should also be forthcoming. Can't believe he's four already; where does the time go?

On the subject of "where does the time go", I go back to work in four more weeks. Since I spent much of my maternity leave recovering from a knee break, it just doesn't feel right to go back yet. Leave feels incomplete somehow. In some ways, it will be nice to be back among adults some of the time. In other ways ... well, change is always alarming. I'll miss my baby, and my routine will be all messed up for awhile. I'll do it because I have to; it's the only way our family can make ends meet. And I really do like my job and my employer a lot. But it's still hard to leave the baby. And while a part of me wants to go back to work, there's also a pretty big part of me that just doesn't want to be away from the kids at all. I mean, ever. They should just stay little forever, I think.

Knee's flaring up again. I guess it's affected by changes in the weather. I'd love for it to quit hurting, but every so often, I develop a pronounced limp. While I really do miss the cat, I can't help but think that it's kind of all her fault I'm in this condition. At least I'll always remember her, right? I think I'll name my knee hardware "Damn Cat", in her honour.

School's going okay, I suppose. I got de-railed again last week, when Joe passed. So now, I'm playing catch up again. Lots of fun. Still no word back on my first assignment, though some other students have theirs back already. And on the subject of "some other students", I'm feeling generally frustrated with my class in general. I just wish people would read the materials before asking questions. (Honestly, people; I'm happy to brainstorm, but I can't read the textbook for you!) Anyway, hopefully I did okay on the first assignment. I'm working on the second now. And I'm still waiting for the results from my last class and the results of my university application. These things all take time, and patience is not my strong suit.

Happy Tuesday, everyone. Now, go visit Keely, and do your own Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Redneck Shower

Tanis of The Redneck Mommy got to bring home her newest addition last week. It's a boy!

In honour of her newest arrival, some fabulous folk are hosting a shower. Yup. It's an online baby shower for Tanis. They want to know: How are you a redneck mommy (or daddy)?



This is a toughy for me. 'Cause while I do live in the middle of the redneck prairies, in what I suspect is actually the redneck capital of the world, I don't quite fit in here. I don't have a double-wide. My firepit hasn't been used in about three years. No one in my family makes moonshine. I don't own a set of hair curlers. I'm involved in the arts, an advocate of gay's and women's rights, and I've never voted Conservative. There is nothing plaid in my wardrobe. I have two very tame tattoos, no piercings (other than the ears), and I don't shop at any store that uses the word "Hemp". Don't smoke. Barely ever drink, and when I do I tend to grab Blue Monday martinis. My musical tastes are eclectic, including various jazz standards, The Offspring, and Captain Tractor, but I loathe all things country. I work in finance, have diplomas in music and law, and am currently studying for an H.B.Com. and accounting designation. My family is religious, educated, and very very calm. No skeletons in our closets. I don't know what to tell you.

So ... yeah ... I guess you know you're a redneck mommy when you're not me?

Pathetic, I know. I hang my head in shame. Alright, I'm off to buy a head jacket now. I think I stand out a little too much, so I've totally gotta try and fit in better.

Love ya, Tanis. Congratulations again on the new boy!

It's in his kiss

Last night, I had a dream that I flunked my first assignment in the current class. Apparently, my efforts were so abysmal that they didn't even bother to grade it. They were actually insulted by my low quality project and just wanted me to redo it in its entirety. (This is actually unheard of; in these courses, there are no do-overs ... if you fail, you fail.) Assignment marks should be released some time today.

Now, on to business ...

**********
Today's inspiration comes from Heinous over at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations, another fabulous writer with a most excellent imagination. Heinous works hard, but still takes time out of his busy schedule to periodically answer readership questions from the male perspective. He's a good samaritan and, in his spare time, enjoys visiting with his eccentric neighbours and helping them out with their gardening problems.

See? Saintly.

The other day, Heinous posted about, among other things, his first kiss. Which of course only served to make me think. And that kind of thing can be dangerous; I don't recommend it. (I know you like humour in your posts, Heinous. Hope you aren't too upset that you inspired this little diddy.)

**********
When I was a kid, I went to bible camp every summer. A true tomboy, I marched to the beat of a different drummer, and I really didn't fit in (not that I tried too hard). But the summer I turned 12, camp was different for two reasons. Firstly, there weren't enough junior or senior highs to make up two camps, so they combined the groups into one and held a junior/senior high camp. The second change? More boys. You see, normally the camp had three cabins of girls and three of boys. But this year, there were only enough girls to make up two cabins, while the boys filled up four. In years past, the camp was divided in half, with boys' quarters on one side and girls' on the other. But in the current year, one cabin on the girls' side was relegated to the boys, and we all got to hang out in closer proximity. As you might imagine, this would work out rather well for my 12-year old tomboy self. More comfortable with the new arrangement, I became a bit more outgoing and sociable than had been the case in other years. So I got noticed a bit more.

That summer, there were at least three new boys in attendance. Tyler, Gary, and Andy all hung out together. They were great guys, but they also didn't quite fit in at church camp, and they seemed to want to hang out with me. I was reclusive and had trust issues, so that took some work on their part. Persistent little buggers that they were, they really put themselves out there trying to get to know me.

Andy was shy and quiet; we didn't get to know each other well. Tyler and Gary were both hilariously competitive and a laugh riot to be around together. Gary was hyped up and unobservant; he never seemed to pick up on my cues, couldn't tell when I was serious or joking, and he'd keep picking until Tyler reined him in. That didn't go over well with me. So Andy, Gary, and I were chummy, but we never really became friends.

But Tyler and I hit it off. We were both quiet, sensitive, dreamy kids, and I liked him a lot. He was an intuitive sort, and he understood me. No easy feat, I assure you. So he and I spent a lot of time together that week, hunting for frogs in the swamp and hanging out in the back of the group at campfire. He was a really sweet boy, known for his red-brown hair that flopped in front of his face and the fact that he wore the same orange football jersey for the entire week.

We weren't dumb, and we knew that the other kids considered us to be a couple. But we were a young, shy pair; a 12-year old girl and a 13-year old boy. We enjoyed each other's company, had a bit of a crush, and called it a day. Nothing more. He was my friend. About the nicest, sweetest, most respectful little rednecky farm boy I'd ever known. At the end of camp, we exchanged addresses and phone numbers and promised to stay in touch. We wrote back and forth a couple of times, and he sent me a school picture, signed "With all my love". It made me smile; mostly because I noticed he was no longer wearing the famed orange jersey. And then, as too often happens, we just lost touch.

One day, I was cleaning out an old drawer, and I came across his picture and address. I decided to write him, to see what he'd been up to. For all I knew, he'd moved. It had been a few years; I was now 15. But I still had fond memories of him and thought it would be nice to renew acquaintances. I mailed the letter, thinking nothing would likely come of it anyway.

A few days later, he called. Said he thought of me often but wasn't sure how to reach me these days, and thought maybe I didn't want contact with him any longer anyway. I was happy to hear from him. It had been far too long. After we hung up, Tyler decided he really wanted to see me again. I still lived in the city, and he still lived on the farm. So he hitched a ride to town, called when he arrived, and made his way over to my house. I was surprised; still a pretty reclusive sort, I didn't get many visitors.

We hung out and talked. He was still the same sweet, sensitive boy I remembered. We decided to go for a walk, down to the community league playground and tennis courts. He stopped me while we were walking through the tennis courts and said: "Can I do something I've been wanting to do for the last three years?" (Even then, I thought that was a pretty cheesy line, but it was kind of cute coming from a 16-year old boy.) And when I naively said "What?", he leaned in and kissed me for the first time.

He spent about a week in town, staying with family and hanging out with me. And then a family obligation arose and he had to leave in a hurry. Once again, we lost touch. I never saw him again.

There are some people who always hold a special place in your heart. Who you will always feel connected to, no matter how much time passes. Tyler is one of those people. The sweet, sensitive, oddly intuitive 13-year old boy who befriended me one summer. He will always be special.

Every so often, I think of him, and I wonder what he's doing these days. I hope he's happy. He deserves a life filled with good times and great possibilities. I tried searching Facebook a few times, but he wasn't there. I wasn't too surprised; social networking wouldn't really be his thing.

And then, I read that post, and I thought of him again. So I googled. I figured nothing would turn up, but I'd just like to see how he's doing these days. He should be a well-adjusted adult by now, thriving and enjoying life.

But it was not to be. I learned that Tyler passed away Halloween of 2003. Over five years ago. I kept searching, hoping it was some sick joke; hoping to see different results. Denial is a beautiful thing when it happens. He's gone. It's real. And so I mourn that amazingly cool 13-year old kid I once knew. My old friend, taken too soon.

Which is all to say that sometimes, life just ain't fair. But at least we have our memories to carry with us. Treasures we keep always. And for that, I am thankful.

**********
Okay. So now, you probably need a good laugh. Go read Heinous and enjoy. You get a mixed bag of emotion over here, but Heinous is always hysterical!

You're the inspiration

Yes, you are. All of you. You'll soon see why.

I'm glad I've got online bloggy friends. For when I get stuck for a topic, I can often find inspiration by reading others. And so it goes this week, when I have some writer's block issues. Check out the bloggers I link to for the next while, if you don't already. They're fabulous folk, I assure you!

**********
Today's post is inspired by the very awesome Goodfather. You know Goodfather, don't you? Oh, I think you do! But in case you are unfamiliar with his work, you should know that he's an excellent writer. He never welches on a bet. And he has the best blogging costume ever, which knowledge I am sure helps to keep him cheery these days while he brushes up the old resume.

The thing is, whatever life throws his way, Goodfather always rises to the challenge in search of hilarity. Plus he's just a really nice guy. Husband, dad, blogger ... pirate. If only he lived in Saskatchewan ...

Yes, Goodfather is indeed The Last Saskatchewan Pirate ... except, you know, not in Saskatchewan, which may impede his progress somewhat. They have rivers where you live, right Goodfather? You can still pillage and plunder?

Join me in wishing Goodfather well in his job quest. I'm sure he'll get something very soon. Because even in today's tight economy, companies are still eager to hire great people like him. He's all kinds of awesome!

Santa Baby

Wishing you all the best for a happy holiday season!


(This photo of N was taken by Draya's Mom over at Draya's Diary. She takes mighty good pictures, huh?)

Writer's Workshop: Memories

So, Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It wants us to post about memories. Specifically, "I remember when ..." is one of her weekly writing prompts. And we all have memories. So this should be easy. Right? Right? Yeah ...

Try as I might, I must admit that I've got nothing this week. I tried to think of something to write about. And I know that when you're having writer's block, other people can provide inspiration. And my advanced management accounting textbook just isn't inspiring any great writing moments for me today. (I don't know why.) So I wandered around and visited some of my best bloggy friends to try and find some inspiration.

I checked out Steenky Bee, of course, as she is all kinds of awesomesauce and I was sure she could help me out. But I was dismayed to learn that she's gone today. Fortunately, she was located in the vicinity of her neighbour's kitchen, taking a meeting with Clark Kent. But she couldn't talk, as she was busily belly crawling back to her home at the time.

The Bloggess is also busy today, dealing with her Pringles cravings and trying to save the world's kittens. This is an admirable goal, because everybody loves kittens. Even God. No matter what that email implied.

(Look! A bunny!)

Okay then. How about Heinous? Heinous always has something good to say ... but not today, apparently, as he is having some writer's block issues of his own this morning and can't think up witty comments. WTF, Heinous?!?! (Thanks for the shout-out, btw. You're awesome!)

This isn't working out so well.

The Stiletto Mom had some promising things to tell me about memories. But then she went off into some kind of strange tangent about monkeys. Now personally, I have nothing against monkeys. But I have no monkeys in my past. No memories of monkeys at all. And I couldn't come up with anything, monkey-related or otherwise, to write about. (In hindsight, I wonder if she got confused when I asked about "memories" and thought I said "monkeys". That makes sense. Miscommunications like that are the reason for much of the world's strife, I am certain.)

Okay. Nothing. I've got nothing.

Fortunately, Captain Dumbass posted yesterday about a great memory of his. He says he remembers that the trailer for "The Shining" scared the hell out of him when he was a kid. Well, that I can certainly relate to. I remember the first time I saw it, too. Totally freaky. And if you check it out, I'm sure you'll find it very, very scary too.

Can't find it? Well, thanks to the wonders of YouTube, I can help you out with that. Here it is!

See? Terrifying!

Okay. That's as much of a study break as I can afford just now. Must get back to the riveting details that are advanced management accounting. Jealous?

How about this: I remember when I could memorize an entire textbook word for word without too much trouble. Today? Yeah ... not so much.

Hair!

I hate getting my hair cut. I consider it to be a necessary evil. One that should be put off as long as possible. The result of this is that I often have long shapeless hair that desperately needs some style. When it starts to drive me crazy, I get it cut. Usually, I get it cut into a jaw length bob. That works well for me. It looks good. It looks professional. It suits my hair type and my face shape. And since it's an easy cut, I can just go to the cheapest place to get it done.

Last time I got my hair cut, I asked for the usual jaw length bob. But I apparently managed to get the only hairdresser in town who couldn't handle that. And I ended up with this crazed uneven quasi-bob falling past shoulder length. Longer in some parts, shorter in others. It looked completely ridiculous. So for the past six or so months, I've been wearing a lot of pony tails to hide the differing lengths.

Whatever. It's just hair.

In my usual zen manner, I recently decided that it was time for another haircut. And not being one to learn from my mistakes, I went to the same place. You get different hairdressers each time, so the lady with the pinking shears and anatomy issues (is that your jaw, or your shoulder?) would likely not be there. And she wasn't.

I thought I'd go for a slightly different cut this time. I've worn the cut in question before. And I liked it. And I know it's an easy cut. It's basically a rounded shoulder-length bob with a slight whispy bang and a few longer layers by the face for added shape. Pretty.

I went in armed. I had pictures of the cut. Four different pictures, in fact, showing the same cut from different angles. I showed the pictures to the butcher stylist. I showed her all four pictures. She agreed that it was a simple cut. And she went to work.

I left a few minutes later with a cut that is completely unlike that in the pictures. It's cute. And it's professional. But it's much shorter, heavily layered, with a fuller bang. It bears absolutely no resemblance to the pictures that I showed her. None. Zero.

But at least it's cut. And it's a cute cut. And it's not crazily uneven. So that's something. And ordinarily I might think it was an improvement over what I had before. But I don't.

Why don't I?

Because I have just noticed that the cut I am now sporting ... the cut I did not request and which will take months to grow back out so that it can be fixed (at a different facility, thank you, because I have now learned my lesson) ... the short sassy cute cut that is not what I wanted ... is virtually identical to the cut currently worn by my friend Liz. Who has roughly the same hair colour. Awesome.

Liz doesn't like her cut much either. But that is not what disturbs me. No. What disturbs me is that Liz and I are close friends. We actually hang out. And when we hang out, other people actually see us. And I don't want to look like the freakin' Bobsy Twins!

Here's another issue. Because Liz and I are close friends with similar interests, people have gotten confused in the past. If one of us expresses an opinion, it is assumed that the other will share that opinion. (Now, oftentimes that does happen, but it's not written in stone or anything!) As a result, occasionally Liz or I have found it necessary to gently explain that we are not actually the same person. I'm sure that's obvious, but human nature is such that sometimes people just need to be reminded. A quick word seems to do the trick. Problem solved.

But I just can't help but feel that having the same blasted haircut will only reinforce public opinion that we are interchangeable, when we are not!! And it really pisses me off!!

Ah, son-of-a ...

How much is that doggie costume in the window?

I've got a couple of photographer friends. They have a great eye, and sometimes they get some really beautiful shots. Oriana Bella, for example, has several pictures that I would just love to have framed and hung on my wall. My favourite to date is this amazing shot she took of three pigeons perched on an electrical wire. The lighting is perfect; birds and wire in glorious silhouette against an overcast sky. I've never seen anything quite like it. (I don't really want to link to it here because of, you know, copyrights and stuff. So you'll just have to trust me that it is gorgeous.)

Oriana also really loves taking abstract shots, which can be quite breathtaking. And sometimes, she photographs amazing oddities.

She recently managed to nab this picture (reproduced here with her permission). Apparently, she got in trouble for taking a picture of an item for sale in a store. But seriously. How could she possibly have resisted this?


This crazy Halloween costume, designed to be worn by a dog, is clearly geared toward proponents of overkill. For many people dress their dogs up as hotdogs. And pumpkins are, of course, a traditional Halloween costume. So someone evidently thought ... why not combine two great ideas into one, and dress your dog up as both?

Now, I know that Cute Overload and Martha Stewart have teamed up to run a Pet Halloween Costume Contest. But seriously? Would you put this crazy outfit on your dog? Even for Cute Overload and Martha?

"This Halloween, Bowser is going as a pumpkin wearing a hotdog costume."

The pumpkin wasn't Halloweenish enough all by itself? The pumpkin needed its own costume, did it? Does this seem like a realistic costume choice? Does anyone ever make a point of getting a special Halloween costume made, just for their pumpkin to wear? And if so, how did such a person end up with a great abundance of cash to spend on outfitting a pumpkin, when said person clearly has absolutely no common sense whatsoever? And since this person has such a great abundance of cash and lack of common sense, do you think he or she might lend me five bucks? How 'bout fifty?

Your thoughts?

That's what friends are for. Right? Hello?

I've known you for a long time.

You were my friend. We flirted with a brief attraction, but it never materialized into anything meaningful. We dated other people, and we were always happy for each other. We were destined to be friends. It worked for us. It was good.

You explored my interests, and I yours. Some stuck; others didn't. We moved on. Always close. Always friends. We'd lose touch on and off, but it was never for too long. We were always happy to run into each other again and catch up. It was good. Always good.

You were at my wedding, happy to see me commit. Heartfelt congratulations and happy memories. Laughing and joking. Good times with old friends. You meant a lot to me. I was glad you were there.

And then you moved away. I was sad to see you go, but happy for the life that you were building for yourself in a new city. You came for a visit, and I made a point of seeing you. I went for a brief visit with family who lived near you. Time was precious, but I made a point of meeting up with you and your girlfriend. You were important, and I wanted to see you. Your girlfriend seemed nice. You seemed happy. I was happy for you, and you seemed happy for me. Our lives were different now. We found ourselves on different paths, facing different challenges. But our friendship was strong. Timeless. We would always be there for each other. We would always support one another. Life was good.

We were destined to be friends. That's how it was meant to be. We were good at it. Good friends are hard to come by. But we'd found it. It worked for us. Friendship was forever.

What happened?

I've known you for a long time ...

Anything at all

Year of the cat rat broken bone

It all started when Paul broke his ankle over the winter. He broke it badly. Needed surgery to set the break. What was Paul doing? Taking his two kids to school in a little wagon he was pulling. Slipped on the ice, and that was it for Paul. Surgery, crutches, walking cast, and physio. He experienced massive amounts of pain for a terribly long time. And it took a number of months, but Paul has recovered well. (His juggling routines took a temporary hit, however. But he's getting back in form again.)

Next came Lee. Lee also broke his ankle in winter. Not as badly as did Paul, but it was a break nonetheless. Both Lee and Paul were in casts at the same time. They were practically twins, since they'd both broken the same ankle. (The real tragedy, of course, was that this meant we couldn't tie their bad legs together to make one full person with two good legs.) Lee went outside briefly one day and slipped on his concrete steps. His ankle was set with a regular cast, and in six weeks the cast came off. He was in considerable pain for a period of time while he waited for the break to heal. Now, Lee is good as new. But until he healed up, his wife was on her own with an (almost) 2-year old and a new baby in the house. (And she had fun, fun, fun 'til the mental health professionals took her away. But she's all better now.)

Next was me. With a broken knee. (Tiddle dee dee.) The hospital chart reads "tripped over the cat", but we all know what really happened, don't we? I stand by my assertion that she tried to kill me. (According to the Chinese horoscope, 2008 is the year of the rat. Well, the stupid cat has lost more weight lately, and her fur lacks lustre. And now she kind of looks like a rat, so I guess someone got temporarily confused.) The pain is intense, and the Percocet continues to be good to me at night. We've been successful thus far in working out childcare arrangements for J. But for the sake of N, I've downgraded to Extra Strength Tylenol during the day so I don't lose consciousness when I'm alone with him, and also so I don't disrupt his feeding routine too much. This means I hurt a lot during the day. But I cope. I trust it will heal in time. (Until then, I hope for better hallucinations.)

And now, on to my friend Carolyn. (Update your blog, woman! What's wrong with you?) Carolyn broke her ankle today. She was working on some landscaping, took a step off her deck, and just kind of landed funny on the concrete slab. She has three children to care for, and her business plans have experienced a temporary setback. But fortunately, hers is a straightforward break. She's in a regular cast right now, and will get a walking cast in a few weeks. She has some Tylenol 1's at her disposal, but hasn't really needed them. And she says it only hurts when someone bangs it. (At my request, H is heading over there with a hammer. 'Cause, why should she be spared?)

So what I'm saying is this: If you have kids, you'd better watch your step. And please, folks, try not to break any bones. It's not nearly as much fun as I've made it sound.

Max and Ruby

Yesterday, J and I went to the Mom, Pop, and Tots Fair at the Agricom. We went with K&K and their little girl D. Obviously, T could not attend. L&P also could not go, since L was studying and P broke his ankle earlier in the week and can't weight-bear yet. So K&K made arrangements to take their little girls, I&G, along with all of us. We three parents loaded the four kids into two wagons, and off we went.

A good time was had by all.

J had his very first pony ride. He picked the biggest pony on the lot. It was a big, black pony. J quite enjoyed riding him. He also liked the petting zoo. He petted two bunnies and a little black goat, but really spent most of his time chasing the animals about in their pens.

There was a live "Max and Ruby" show as well. If you've ever watched Treehouse on TV, you will no doubt be quite familiar with "Max and Ruby". The kids didn't seem to really get into the "Max and Ruby" show, and they were more interested in playing.

Or so we thought ...

Today, J and I went over to K&K's for D's 3rd birthday party. G took J out on the back porch. I was not permitted to see what they were doing, and had to hide behind the garage to hear this little exchange:

G: Ok, J. This is the stage. And we're gonna do a Max and Ruby show for my Mommy. You be Max, and I'll be Ruby.

[Pause]

G: Max, what are you doing?
J: I'm not Max!
G: Yes you are. Max, what are you doing?
J: I'm not Max! I'm J!
G: Well, you can be J-Max.
J: Oh. ... I'm J-Max?

I think that was about the time when G gave up. J hasn't quite got a good handle on imaginative play as of yet.

Once Upon A Time

J has an activity book. It was given to him by Memaw when he was a baby. He still quite likes it. It's filled with animal pictures and different pull-tabs, and it plays music and makes a variety of noises.

J got home from daycare today. He ate a nice dinner of lasagna ... bribed with promises of chocolate. After his dessert was done, he ran into the living room, activity book in hand:

J: It's bedtime. For you. (Points at Mommy) And you. (Points at Daddy) But not for me! Time for story. (Opens activity book) Once upon a time, there was an elephant and a panda and stars. The end. (Closes book) Now go to sleep.

H: Can we snuggle for a little bit?

J: Yes. (Climbs up on couch and lies down next to H) Oh wait! Time to get a sippy cup of milk! (Climbs down and runs into the kitchen)

**********

Yesterday, H and J went to Ikea to try to catch a doorcatcher special. I am impressed that they managed to get it, and they returned home with the much sought-after table and chair set for J. Now he has his very own place where he can sit and colour, paint, play with play-doh, etc. It's a very nice table and comes with 4 chairs. J helped H to assemble it. Took much longer that way, but I think H enjoyed spending quality time with his son.

Yesterday evening, K&K came by with D. L&P braved the cat dander and came over with I&G for a visit. Dinner was provided by our good friends, and much fun was had by all. J, D, I, & G all played together, and J's new table was put to good use. Life is good. I'm glad we have good support from our friends and family.

We had intended to show K&K and L&P the progress in our basement. But by the end of the evening, we had forgotten. We'll have to show them another time.

**********

Basement development is coming along nicely. But it is astounding how much things cost! I was sure we budgeted high when we set our basement budget, but it appears that we actually budgeted low on most things. Every time a bill arrives, I hyperventilate a little bit. I'm sure we'll be okay. I just hate spending money. I'm not used to it, and it makes me panic and shudder.

The framing is almost completely done now. Most of the plumbing work is done, as is most of the electrical. The shower is installed (shower head, tap, and doors are still to come). The first batch of drywall has been delivered. Flooring is already paid for and just needs to be picked up. The fireplace goes in on March 11.

There's still a little bit of framing to do (a closet and some work around ducting). The sink, cabinet, toilet, vent fan, and mirror still need to be installed in the bathroom. And then we have the remaining electric, drywall work, a suspended ceiling, a built-in bookshelf, the trim and finishing work, instalation of flooring, painting. I think that's about it. I hope so, anyway. With me unexpectedly on disability, our finances have taken a slight downward turn, and it's harder to cope.

All temporary. I'm aware. But it's still not a lot of fun to deal with.

**********

On the subject of my ongoing disability, we had an ultrasound and obstetrician's appointment today. Things are good with Baby. I must continue on bed rest, of course. I'm 26 weeks along now. Baby would not cooperate for ultrasound pictures ... he was busy sucking on his toes and covering his face with his hands. No cute pictures of Baby's face this go-round. But that's ok.

The goal is just to make it as close to term as possible. Thus far, things are looking good, as long as I continue with the bed rest. We do what we have to do. As things stand right now, I may be able to write my exam on March 10. I hope so ... deferring it is a bit of a headache. And I don't really want to prepare for an exam in the next sitting, when I'll have a newborn baby. Not convenient.

**********

The course I'm currently taking isn't going too bad. Thankfully it's distance ed - I wouldn't be able to go to class in my current condition. Even as it is, I'm behind on readings. But I got 99% on my midterm assignment. Woot! And I've done well enough on the quizzes too. I need something in the realm of a 53% on my final exam in order to pass the course. Aside from the business case assignment, which I hope to complete this summer, this is my last foundation level course. Still a long way to go, though.

I wonder how we'll manage once we add baby #2 into the mix. I'm sure we'll find a way to make this work. Someday, when I get my designation, there will be much rejoicing.

**********

Anyway, that's enough typing. Nighty-night. It's bedtime. J says so.

Weekend in reverse (more or less)

Because the most important thing mentioned in this post just happened, I'll start there.

One of my best friends talked to me tonight. Her dad is in the hospital with chest pains. I want to go over and offer comfort, but she has assured me that she is being well looked after. There are some friends who live nearby, and they should already be there. And my friend's husband is also on his way home. I wish I lived closer to her, but I'm on the opposite end of town and she needs someone who can get there quickly. I will pray tonight, that everything will be okay. I hope to hear that he is just fine.

We have a family funeral tomorrow. H's cousin passed away earlier this month. So it's a sad weekend.

We have begun to make the large purchases that relate to our basement development project. We bought a stackable washer/dryer unit yesterday, and today we bought the furniture that will go downstairs (it's back-ordered, so we should get it in 6 months). I am thankful that we were able to get enough cash to look after all of this. Also, I am thankful that there are sales going on. We got much nicer furniture than we had anticipated, because we happened across a half-price leather sale at a store that was throwing in a Samsung big screen TV on certain clearance items. (And accommodations for 4 days in Cancun as well, though the flight may be a stretch.) We have a few more big-ticket items in our basement budget (bathroom fixtures and such), but will continue to look for sales. So far, we are managing to stay under budget. But of course, we've only just begun to shop. A couple more purchases like we made today could start to push the envelope; we'll have to be more careful in the future.

Today, J was feeling better at last. So we met my birth-mom in Red Deer. She gave J an early birthday present - a Tickle Me Elmo. He really loves his new toy.

Yesterday, we got our new van back. Certain repairs had been necessary. It is in good form now, and we are happy with our purchase.

My voice has returned. I can sing again, though I still have a bit of a rasp. But I'm still really tired.

Behind in Economics. Still. I don't know if I'm going to catch up in enough time to write the final exam. I'll do my best, though. Hopefully I'll get through it all. I'm taking next term off from school; I need the break.

I had a very happy day today. But I am sad just now. I am worried about my friend and her family. She is very special to me, and I want her dad to be okay.

He will be okay.

Colour me self-involved

I'm sick. I have added a migraine to my tonsillitis issue. My throat is so scratchy that speech is difficult. But I'm still working away. Took yesterday off from the office, but went back today. And tonight, I attempted to study. With a migraine. Like an idiot.

Studying takes a lot of concentration when you have a migraine. It can't be done without excluding everything else in your life. And personally, I have a really hard time switching gears when I have a migraine. Case in point: Tonight, I was working on some of my quiz questions, when the phone rang, and one of my dear friends (DF) needed to talk to me. And the conversation went something like this:

DF: My son fell.

Me: Convertible bonds? Are they liability or equity instruments?

DF: I feel so bad!

Me: These are at the issuer's option ... with interest ... that's module 4.2, right?

DF: Do you think he's okay?

Me: Carry the 3 ...

And it kind of kept going like that until my sweet, kind DF agreed to talk shop with me and we had a lengthy discussion about convertible bonds and hybrid classifications. We didn't really ever get back to what was important. I failed to see it at the time. I realize it now. But it's too late to phone!!

So if the above conversation sounds kind of familiar to you, I apologize for my insensitivity and self-involvement this evening. And next time you call, I promise to try harder to remember to close my textbooks, turn off my computer, and listen to you. (And I'm sure your son is just fine!)

Me bad friend. Me sorry.

J's Girlfriend

Yes, it has happened. My little soon-to-be 16-month old son has selected a girlfriend. She is an older woman (nearly 18 months old, in fact), and she is very pretty and smart. Her name is Amy.

Today, J and Amy had a playdate. J was most irritable, and refused to nap. He fussed and carried on. He threw things and wouldn't listen. Eventually, we women took the babies out in the strollers while the men worked on renovations in the basement. J nodded off for about an hour or so in his stroller. It wasn't long enough. He continued to fuss and carry on, adding a bit of freaking-out into the mix.

But when we left, he cheered up, and he kissed Amy goodbye. We didn't ask him to; it was voluntary. He doesn't even kiss us. Only our cats. And now, Amy. Pleased with himself, he continued to give Amy kisses until we left. She smiled happily as J kissed her. It was the cutest!

**********

Amy is a very smart little girl. She does baby sign, and she has a set of flashcards that she plays with. She keeps them in a red bucket. We were hanging out in her room. She was calmly running her flashcards and playing with her books. She turned to me and baby-signed, explaining to me that she had seen a pig the other day. And then she returned to her flashcards, looking at pictures of peas and beans, of pigs and ducks.

Meanwhile, J grabbed all the cards, threw them on the floor, stomped around on them for a bit, then put the red bucket on his head and started slamming his head into the doorjamb. All I could think of was that scene in "Parenthood", and the line "You must be very proud". Clearly, J and Amy have very different personalities.

**********

H learned to frame walls today. He is pleased with his accomplishment. J destroyed a perfectly good white t-shirt of mine today when he threw blackberries at me. I am less than impressed.

**********

Last night, we had friends over for a BBQ. I was happy. People seemed to have a nice time. I had fun. It was all good. J hadn't napped during the day and he was exhausted, so I had to go in and try to cuddle him down while people were still here visiting out on our deck. I was sad that I missed out on some of the fun, but that's how it is when you have a little one. My attempts were in vain, and after folks had gone home, we still had to take J out for a drive to get him to calm down and fall asleep.

But while they were here, it was all good. We hung out in the backyard. We took the kids to the playground. I got to give Izzy a piggyback ride on the way back, and we had a lovely conversation. (She's a sweetie!) The kids tried to climb up the mountain that we fondly call "the backyard".

I love my friends!

**********

Early birthday presents:

1. Really cool business card holder from L&P. (I got my cards the day before, which was a really cool coincidence!)
   
2. "The Notebook" on DVD from L&M. (I haven't seen it, and I want to. We'll be watching it soon; probably tomorrow.) And movie certificates! For an evening out! I can't wait!!
   
3. MP3 player from H. (It's way small, and way purple. And I love it way much! The girls at work all tend to listen to their MP3 players while working on their files, and now I can too. YESSSS!)

Thanks guys!

Said and heard

He said:
Honey, when do you think you might get a chance to do some laundry?

She heard:
Get off the couch and wash my clothes, you lazy woman! It's not as though you have anything else to do. And stop eating those bonbons; you'll chunk out, and I don't want a fat wife. Besides, I paid for those candies with my hard earned money. Because I work for a living. Unlike you. I just can't believe you haven't washed my clothes yet. Now I don't have anything decent to wear tonight when I go to watch the strippers. All because of the "baby". Yeah. Right.

**********

Come now. You must learn to laugh at yourselves. It's funny. Really.

Wait. What are you doing with that shotgun? No, seriously! We're laughing with you! With you!

Feeling frustrated

Edit: the link in this post used to contain a rant. I was having a moment, and I needed a good tear. I have since decided that I need to focus on all that is positive in my life, and there is plenty of it. I no longer wish to preserve this particular rant, because I no longer need it.

That is freeing, somehow!

Tonight, I am feeling frustrated. Things are affecting me more than they probably should.

J has been sick with a bad ear infection, and he has been in emergency twice this week with high fevers and inconsolable crying. He had a doctor's appointment today for a follow-up. His ears are looking better, but his weight is down. He is no longer in a weight category for his age, and that is alarming. We have to find a way to get him to gain weight over the next 3 weeks, or else he will have to go into the hospital and be put on a feeding tube. We have been instructed to supplement him with formula. But that's a problem, because he won't take formula. Not by any means. (H is now resorting to dipping J's soother in the formula and putting the soother in J's mouth!)

The doctor decided to run blood and urine tests on J to see if there is any reason for his low weight other than just requiring extra calories. We went to get those tests run tonight. J screamed and cried, and it was gut-wrenching for us. He also twisted, and it took 3 people to hold him down. We have been told he will probably have bruises on his arms for a bit. It hurts me to see my baby in pain. But whatever gets him through this will be okay by me. I just want him to be okay and gain an acceptable amount of weight.

J has also decided that he wants to stay awake all night long. He was up past 2:00 a.m. today, wanting us to play with him. Demanding that we play with him, actually. I am functioning on very little sleep, and it is making me a bit testy.

And, with J being sick, I have found very little time to study. I am behind in my course, and I must find some time to get caught up. I hope to manage it this weekend, but we have some other obligations, most notably a funeral we need to attend. We have friends who are willing to watch J for us, so we can both go.

So with all of this going on, I think my brain needs a bit of a break. And I don't think it is particularly surprising that I might choose to focus on something petty and stupid. So I am choosing to do so. And it annoys me, but I am unable to break my focus. Perhaps if I make this entry, I will be able to free my mind and carry on with the more pressing concerns. (Or perhaps I just need the distraction. We'll see.)

Edit: I freed my mind. The entry has been altered accordingly. :)

I have a friend. She is nice. I like her. A lot. She's a good person. She's sweet, smart, generous to a fault, and has been a great support to me. She's a loving wife and mother and has life experience that she willingly shares with others. She's fun. She's talented. She's pretty amazing. And yes, she's a highly emotional presence who overreacts on occasion and who is opinionated like you wouldn't believe, but I find these things to be part of her charm. They are traits that help to form the wonderful and amazing person that she is. She's an irreplaceable, one of a kind friend who I respect and admire. She has earned that respect and admiration through her behaviours. I am proud to call her my friend.

She is one of a select group of really amazing people who I am very happy to have in my life. There are others. When I stop to think about it, I am really very blessed to have so many of these great people in my life.

I am pleased by the fact that I have people like this in my life. I am happy that I have good and supportive friends, who care about me and listen to me.

I am thankful for you, my friends! You're the best!!