Upgrade (October 31, 2008)

See this old, hard patio chair? It has been my computer chair for the last year and a half. It was free. Don't be jealous.

The other day my dad gave me a gift. Just for the heck of it. Oh yeah, and because it was on sale.

So now I sit at the 'puter in this:



(Don't mind the white finger prints on the chair. I decided to let the kids go for a spin before they were forever banished from the chair, and neglected to notice they had cream cheese still on their hands! I have zero excuse for the dirty floor... so just look at the chair, alrighty? Thanks...)

Talk about an upgrade!!

I don't think dad realised when he gave me this that I will be spending more time neglecting the kids on the computer now. I don't have to get up as often to stretch, or to shake the pins and needles out of my ass. (I never realised where the body was capable of getting pins and needles before I had the patio chair!)

Thanks dad! Oh. And while we're at it, I could use a new bed. And a dishwasher. Oh, and maybe a new car? Just sayin...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight I have the honours of escorting a ninja and a princess all over the planet. Mackenzie is so excited. This is her first year of trick-or-treating, and she drools every time I mention the idea of people giving her candy "just because". Braden has convinced himself he gets all of his candy plus half of Mackenzie's. HA! He might be a ninja and all, but I have no qualms about taking him on for my fair share!

I hope you all have a safe and fun Halloween!!

Thursday Thirteen #3 (October 30, 2008)

Of course this one is going to be about Halloween. I'm not THAT original. Sheesh.



Thirteen Things about WHAT I DRESSED UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN AS A CHILD

1. Kindergarten - Witch

2. Grade 1 - The devil

3. Grade 2 - Ladybug

4. Grade 3 - Bunny Rabbit

5. Grade 4 - Punk Rocker

6. Grade 5 - Pirate

7. Grade 6 - Clown

8. Grade 7 - 3 Eyed Teenage Alien

9. Grade 8 - Vampire

10. Grade 9 - Vampire

11. Grade 10 - Ghoul

12. Grade 11 - Vampire

13. Grade 12 - Zombie

As you can see from my highschool years, grade 8 to grade 12, I was very original.

Wordless Wednesday - Intrigued (October 29, 2008)

Sooo close!!! (October 28, 2008)

On Saturday, Aaron and I took the kids to the grand opening of a local recreational facility. Everything was free. Hot dogs, pizza, fresh fruit, bottled water, ice skating, swimming, cotton candy, cake, etc. The list goes on and on. Free. Everything.

When we arrived, they had a little set up with hay bales and scarecrows. Which translates to "photo op!!"
The kids happily obliged to take a seat and grin for the camera. I focused in and pushed the button.

"beep. beep. beep"

My batteries. CRAP! Knowing that the camera sucks the batteries even drier with the display window on, I turned it off and looked through the view finder. I took two pictures "just in case". The kids sat still the entire time, and looked right at the camera while I snapped away. Hoorah! Victory! I have decent pics of cooperating children! Wahoo!!

Wait. What's this?

Here's the first:

It had the potential to be "alright", but considering it's blurry...arg!!

And the second:

You can tell in this one that Mackenzie was "trying" to hold her smile and attention, whereas Braden just plumb gave up.

Dorks.

Would it have killed them to actually look at the camera?
Whatever. They were sitting still, had their hands to themselves and everything was free!

As for these pics? Priceless.

Klassic Kenzie (October 27, 2008)

I think my daughter has some type of personality disorder.

She succeeds at convincing Grandma and strangers that she is a sweet, innocent little princess. Mackenzie aka - "Da da da DA, Princess Kenzia!!" Loves all things Barbie, Care Bears, Tinkerbell and the works. When she wears dresses she holds them at the hem line, lifts the dress up a bit and twirls around for all those worthy to admire her.

She can't fool me. And I have the proof. See this picture? Oh yeah. Everything princess like is void from this scene.


(I think if you click on the picture, it might show up a bit bigger)


1 - Braden got that for a gift when he turned one. It still has the original batteries in it 6 years later. And they work. Mackenzie discovered this truck in August. Almost exactly 6 years to the day that Braden got it. By the end of August,she decimated it. She managed to rip the steering wheel and front wheels off. Now she scoots around on it "steering" herself with her legs.
"But Mom-mmm-mmy. I'm just making it better for me. Right Mommy?"

2 - No "princess" would allow herself to go outside with sandals on the wrong feet. Except Mackenzie when she's trying to convince you that Princesses don't mind. "Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. Right Mommy?" Erm.. Sure sweety.

3 - This injury occurred when the "Princess" was chasing after a 4 year old little boy at daycare, so she could smack him with a Barbie doll. Apparently he told her that she was too little to blow bubbles the "right" way.
"I was blowing the bubbles like a princess do, and then he made me really mad. Right Mommy?"

4 - Stickers on the bandages - The ultimate healing power. She asked if she could use my "Mommy stickers cuz they's weally big stickies. Right Mommy?"
"Mommy stickers" being my maxi pads. Ahem.

5 - A classic Kenzie face. As I was taking this picture, Braden was behind me saying something to Mackenzie. I don't recall what he was saying, but her response was "the" look, followed by a low growl of "Nooooo 'Baden'. NO. He's bothering me. Right Mommy?"

To avoid being on the receiving end of "the" look, I will have to abide by the Princess. I shall call her "Princess Tomboy". RIGHT Mackenzie?????

Cha cha cha Chia!! (October 24, 2008)

I'm sitting here scratching my chin. Not because I am deep in thought. Oh no. It's because I shaved it. Yes. I Shaved. My. Chin.

This is not a regular habit. But you see, I had to do it.

On Saturday my boyfriend and I were sharing a cuddle on the couch. We were having a nice little chat about our daughter's constipation and potty training efforts the meaning of life, when he looked thoughtfully into my eyes for a moment. As he was gazing oh so immensely, I realized he was touching my chin so very lightly. Awe, I thought to myself. He can be romantic. Then it tickled for a second.

So I touched my chin where he touched and felt a 10 foot long 2cm long hair. Coming out of my chin.

"Aaron!! Were you... Are you... What the hell man? Why were..? ARG! You do NOT play with your girlfriend's chin hair! EVER!!"

He had a combined look of confusion and amusement plastered on his face.

"What?" he said, as he shrugged his shoulders. "So what? It's not like I was trying to braid it."

Braid it?? WTF? How long IS this sucker?? I stared at him with admonishment, and my hand cupping my chin. Is he really that effing clueless?

I gave him "the" look, and went to the bathroom to see how noticeable it really was. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!! I'm turning into a fricken chia pet!! "Cha cha cha chia!! Cha cha cha CHIA!" The jingle played in my head over and over. I had SEVEN stray hairs on my chin. Looong hairs. I shit you not, the longest one was 2.5 cm long. (1 inch) I grabbed it with my fingernails and yanked. Did I get it? I don't see it... wait. What's that? I leaned in closer. I managed to grab the hair between my nails and curled it. It friggin CURLED on me.

Eff that crap. Since I don't own tweezers (yes I shave my uni-brow because I am a giant wuss) I grabbed my razor and shaved those little SOB's off!

And 6 days later my chin is STILL itchy. And bumpy. Apparently it's not a good idea to dry shave. Anywhere. Including your chin. Regardless of who sees it. And plays with it. And how much time you have.

Well, off to Wal-Mart. I have to buy some tweezers and anti itching cream supplies.

Thursday Thirteen #2 (October 23, 2008)

Thirteen Things about MY FAVOURITE...

1. Treat - Sleeping in past 8am. That might happen 3 times a year.

2. Colour - blue

3. Number - 11

4. Flower - Daffodil

5. Smell - Swiss Army cologne

6. Shirt - My grey hoody

7. Pants - Jeans I bought at Wal-Mart. They say size 6. I am a size 10/12. And they fit perfect.

8. Daily indulgence - Extra large English Toffee coffee from Tim Horton's.

9. Sound - A good old belly laugh from a child.

10. Words to hear - I love you Mommy

11. Song - Israel Kamakawiwo Ole's version of: Somewhere over the rainbow/what a beautiful world

12. Actor - Tom Hanks

13. Actress - Sandra Bullock

Taste test (October 21, 2008)

Have you ever heard that joke:

"How can you tell there was an elephant in the refrigerator?"
"Because there were footprints in the butter"

Have you? Well, I have a new one for you:

"How can you tell the seven year old boy was mucking in the cupboards?"
"Because there's a finger streak in the icing."

That little SHITHEAD.

As I posted yesterday, I have been on this baking/cleaning binge lately. Last night I grabbed the last container of icing out of the cupboard to frost the cake. (Hey. Don't judge. I said yesterday I was fairly new to this baking thing, so you can't expect me to be making homemade icing yet!!) I took off the lid and grabbed the "protective seal" to peel it away. What's this? Hmmm. That came off pretty easy. Too easy. I glance at the icing. A perfect little finger streak from the middle to the edge of the rim. Not deep. Just a surface test I suppose. I even had to stop and think, "Now when did I do this?" But I *know* I didn't. There is no way Mackenzie could ever have gotten up on the counter, let alone stop at one little taste test.

What gets me the most, is the little shit smoothed out the foil and bent it back down to make it look like it was never tampered with.

What a bloody genius.

Just too bad he didn't stick it in the fridge after. It has a gazillion year shelf life, but 2 weeks open in the fridge. I have no clue how long ago this happened, and was not going to take any chances. I had to throw it away.

I have to say it one more time...

What a little shithead!!!

Nesting? or Un-nesting (October 20, 2008)

When I was pregnant with my son, I went through the entire pregnancy without going through the "nesting" stage. Well, just barely. When I was 6 months pregnant with him, I went through a 3 day cleaning binge, cleaning and clearing the house out top to bottom.

But I didn't really count that as nesting per say, as it was May, the official "Spring Cleaning" month. Everyone in our town house complex was doing it.

When I was preggers with Kenzie, my "nesting" stage began on November 15th, around 5pm. I was 35 weeks, 4 day along. I gave birth to her almost 27 hours later.

I wonder now if I was nesting because my body "knew" she was coming, or if rearranging the living room (by myself...oops) pushed me into active labour.

The past few days I have been doing what I can only consider to be as nesting.

Wait.

No, I am NOT pregnant. Not even as in "I may be pregnant and am in denial type of pregnant". Just plain old NOT. PREGNANT.

So why am I finding the sudden urge to bake? I am NO Suzy homemaker. I just don't bake. The past week I have baked 2 cakes, 2 loaves of pumpkin loaf and 3 loaves of banana bread. Not to mention I have de-cluttered significantly, to the point where I have bribed my garbage man to take extra bags of trash (beyond the allowed 2 bags per household rule) with the offerings of said banana bread and a flash of my boobs. OK, so I'm kidding about the last part. I want him to take the garbage, not send him running in holy terror at the sight of my sagging bags of flesh.

I digress...

I have even set up a date where my dad is going to come with his truck and take a load to the dump. I am very excited about this. Once the junk gets out, I can arrange the bedrooms again to suit 3 people, not 6.

I am at a loss. The only thing I can think of is my mind has finally accepted the fact that my nephews have gone back with their mom, and I can move on from that chapter in my life. Seriously. That is the only feasible explanation to this craziness.

So that makes me wonder. If we "nest" when we are expecting a new arrival, am I "un-nesting" because the boys aren't living here anymore? Is that possible??

That is all for now. I hear my sink calling. It's ready for it's nightly shine, and I think I hear some dust trying to settle on the coffee table...

When big brother is gone, the sister will play (October 18, 2008)

Braden is off having some much needed bonding time with his grandpa, my dad. It's been quite a while since Braden has had a sleepover with his "Papa". He was very excited to go.

Usually, we get home around 3:30pm, have a snack and the kids go play until dinner time. Because Braden was off with my dad after school yesterday, it was just Kenzie and I. It's amazing how kids adapt to routine, and abide by it. As I was in the kitchen humming and hawing over what to make for dinner, I heard Mackenzie yelling at her brother. She was pissed. "NO 'BADEEEEEEN!' I. SAID. NOOOOOO!!" She was freaking out. I called out "Mackenzie! Don't talk to your brother like that! Braden! Leave your sister alone!" Silence. Then quiet chatter.

Wait.

Didn't I say that Braden wasn't here?

Yes I did. I walked to the bedroom not knowing what to think. I slowly pushed open the door to find Mackenzie holding Charla, our cat. Who looked terrified. "Um. Mackenzie?" I said gently. "What?" She responded. "Honey, were you just, um, yelling at your, uh, brother?"

Mackenzie grinned ear to ear. "Yes! 'Baden' at Papa's house, right Mommy? So I say Charla is the 'Baden' and Charla bit my finger so I yell "NOOOOO 'BADEEEEEEN', right Mommy?"

Ooookay...

I return to the kitchen, get my groove on and start dinner. Mackenzie is playing quietly so I snuck away to the computer to get my daily fix of blog reading check my email.

So I'm in "the zone". Apparently I was in the zone for quite a while before mommy instinct kicks in.

Swish. swooosh. Splash. "Mmmm. Smells like roses." (calling from a distance) "Mommy? My feet smell like roses now, right Mommy?"

Slowly I come out of my computer induced trance. "Mackenzie? Whatcha doing baby girl?" I ask as I begin to get up.

"Washing my feet."

Washing her feet? Wha..???

Now, I know I can get pretty lost once on the computer, but I know there is no way I would not hear the bathtub running. I don't think I'm going to like what I see, I think to myself.

I walked into the bathroom to see my precious little princess sitting on the toilet. With her feet in it. Up to her knees. Not only were her lower extremities in the ole porcelain bowl, but a bar of homemade jasmine soap my mother brought back from a recent trip to Indonesia for me was in it too. Half of it was still covered in plastic.

I was immediately split into 3 different people. Now I understand that long hesitation people have in strange or unexpected situations. Your body is fighting among it's self as to which personality will take over.

Southern-lady-mommy-personality said, "Oh dear Lord child! Your feet are in the stinky yucky toilet! Ew! we poop in there! Germs germs yucky evil germs!! Now we have to scrub you with a wire brush and throw the soap away!"

Boot-camp-drill-Sargent-mommy-personality said, " MACKENZIE!! What are you DOING? We do NOT wash ANYTHING in the toilet! EVER! YUCK! Now I have to throw away the soap that GRANDMA GAVE ME!! AND I have to give you a bath NOW instead of AFTER dinner. SIghhhhhhhh."

Silly-mommy-who-thought-she's-seen-it-all-after-having-a-boy-personality said, "Um.... Macken.... snort. giggle giggle. Ha. HA. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHBWAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

I'm so glad that personality No 3 won. That was one of the funniest things ever. If I knew where my dang camera was, I would have taken pictures! It was priceless. No Mackenzie. Your feet do not smell like roses. That is called Jasmine.

And I'm keeping the soap.

Mommyhood Q's & A's (October 17, 2008)

It took me forever to fill out the answers. I thought I'd have it done in 5 minutes. Silly me. Surprisingly it was harder than I thought.

Copy and paste. Fill out your own answers (duh) and voila! Some of the questions sure make you think!

I would never: tell my children I wish I never had them

I always: Kiss, hug, and tell them I love them at bedtime. Even if they've been little shits All. Day. Long.

I got an easy ride when it came to: Temper tantrums. I have been able to distract/ talk through/avoid tantrums about 98% of the time.

The part I dislike most about parenting is: Having them start EVERY SINGLE FLIPPING SENTENCE WITH "Mommy" I'm LISTENING, and have been listening for the last 10 minutes. No need to "renew" my attention! I'm SO changing my name, and not telling them what I changed it too!!

The part I love most about parenting is: Watching them achieve new milestones, and knowing that they love me no matter what. Even when I've been a grumpy bear, smell like the ass end of road kill, and made them eat their veggies. They still want cuddles and hugs and kisses. :)

My terrible parenting secret is: We eat in front of the TV. A lot.

I would describe my approach to discipline as: Too strict/uptight

My worst parenting habit: I yell.

The one thing I am really proud of is: My kids say please and thank you most of the time. Without being prompted.

I probably am too lenient when it comes to: Easing off on discipline. (ie - make a 3 day grounding into 2 days)

I hope my kids inherit my: Imagination and to be able to find a positive in ANY situation

I hope my kids don’t inherit my: Stubbornness and Big giant flipper feet

I love that my kids are: Funny and imaginative

The thing I miss most about my pre-mom days is: The ability to just up and leave any time I want

Motherhood is: Really frickin hard. But so totally worth it once the kids are in bed. Asleep. ;)

Thursday Thirteen #1 (October 16, 2008)

Okay. I've been blogging now for about 5 months, the last 2 months regularly. It's time to try something new, so I'm going to do the "Thursday Thirteen". I hope to be consistent with it. (It's harder than it looks!!) Here goes...

Thirteen Things about YOUR NAME 1. Lana 2. Old people say it's a beautiful name 3. Kids tormented me 4. "Lana banana" is a fantastic rhyme. That made me want to murder at the age of 8. 5. They liked calling me "Lana the Llama" while bleating like a lamb. 6. Unintentionally, my parents named both my sister and I after sex goddesses of the 60's. (Lana Turner and Gina Lollobrigida) 7. Read my name backwards. Yeeeaaaah... I discovered that one when I was 11, Thought my parents must have hated me. 8. 60% of the time people call me "Launa". Nope. It's Lana. LA-nah. 9. 25% of the time, people call me "Alana". I will correct this once. If it continues, I will call them Adave. or, Ashannon, or asteve, or abetty. 10. In Spanish and Latin, my name literally translates to "wool" or "fleece". 11. I (briefly) considered naming my daughter "Lanaya" (La-NAY-ah) just so I could have my name in hers. 12. I'm still a bit bitter about point number 7. Although, once I point that out, I'm never called "Alana" again. Go figure. 13. After attending a total of 5 schools (4 elementary, 1 high school), it wasn't until grade 9 that I met another "Lana". (To all you "Jennifer's, Amanda's and Nicole's, please don't hate me!!)

Uhg (October 15, 2008)

 I'm playing hooky from work today. I feel so disgusting. I slept like crap, woke up every half hour and feel like I have to barf.

Lovely.

As miserable and uncomfortable I would be at work today, I still feel guilty calling in. I always feel guilty about calling in. I hate that! So many people take advantage of a "sick day" and don't think twice about it. And then there's me. I think I'll get in trouble or something. Today I don't care...yet.

So I'm off to get the kids ready and distribute them to school and daycare. See? I'm REALLY taking the day off. Thank goodness for daycare.

I'm going to go die now, but hopefully I'll be resurrected in time to pick the kids up this afternoon.

Groan. Moan. My gut's are rolling. I need gravol and Imodium. Anyone? Anyone?? Sigh.

Later people.

She's not as innocent as she looks (October 14, 2008)

In December, I received a message from an old friend asking if I would be interested in taking his cat. He is a single dad who has been raising his 3 year old daughter since she was 6 months old. He had to move to a bigger place, but he was not able to take his cat, as the people who lived upstairs (he was moving into a basement suite) has a little boy who had horrible asthma, plus a terrible allergy to cats. It broke his heart as "Charlotte" was literally born on his lap 2 and a half years previous.

I agreed to take her. But I had to rename her. In my opinion (my opinion, my personal preference only!!) I think it's kind of weird to name animals "people" names. I wanted to try to keep it close to "Charlotte", so I decided on renaming her "Charla". Had I thought about it a bit, I should really have waited until she showed me more of her personality. (which was hard, considering for the first 3 weeks of being here, she lived in my walls. Don't ask.)
Had I waited, I would have named her something like "Tripper", or "killer Dust Bunny".

Charla is the sweetest cat ever. She is quiet unless looking for me. At night time when the kids are in bed, and I'm at the computer, she'll sink out of my room softly mewing. She'll meow until I say "I'm right here baby." Then she's quiet again. She isn't one of those "In your face" kind of cats either. She'll come over, hop in my lap to enjoy a good petting, and jump down when she has had enough. She's just in general the perfect cat match for me.

Well, other than the fact she's trying to kill me.

At first I thought it was adorable how when I got up to go to the kitchen/bed/bathroom/answer the phone, she would jump up from her seemingly unconscious state of slumber to walk with me to where I was going. The faster I walk, the faster she walks. I slow down, so does she. Cute, right? WRONG!!! It's all fine and dandy 'till she drops to the ground right in front of me rolling around looking all cute, "asking" for attention. I am talking RIGHT AT MY FEET, in mid stride. walk walk walk walk DROP.

The first 182 times this happened, I would say her name, almost like a warning of "EGAD!! MOVE before I step on you!" I dodged her so many times. She almost made me drop Mackenzie once. I was taking Kenzie out of the bath and bringing her to the living room. Charla, one step ahead of me, WHAMO! Drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I stumbled and ended up kicking her with one foot and stepping on her tail with the other. I will never forget the sound she made. At the time I thought it was a sound she made when hurt. I'm pretty certain I was wrong. Now I know she was pissed at herself that her attempts to kill me were foiled. She probably thought she would get double points because I was carrying precious cargo.

I've since learned that as she's trying to pull off her murder scheme, to hiss and say "phfffft" quite loudly. It makes her nervous and pushes her furry little ass a bit quicker to get out of my way.

But silly me. She's been watching and learning. Now she knows while I am busy in the mornings getting ready for work, getting Braden ready for school, and Mackenzie ready for daycare, that I am distracted. The other day we were ready to head out the door. As I was heading down the stairs to leave, the little fur ball stopped on the stair. I didn't see her, and stepped on her just enough to register what it was and proceeded to slide down 5 stairs on my keester while hanging on to the banister. I believe I sounded like this - "what th..CHARLAAAAEIYAAHAHHOOOOOOYOUCH!!" mix in with that about 5 good sounding *THUD*s. Oh yeah. And Braden and Mackenzie's screams of "MOMMY! You broke the cat! Why did you step on poor Charla? Aweee poor Charla". They crooned. WHAT ABOUT ME?!?! It was pointless to tell a 7 and 2 yr old that I could have actually stepped on her harder to save my arse, but nooo.

Then Charla looked me dead in the eyes and said with a menaced tone, "Next time lady. Just you watch. Oh yes. Next. Time."

The doctors said I must have banged my head in the process, but I know what I heard. Oh yes. I do.

Happy Thanksgiving!... (October 13, 2008)

...Well, to my Canadian friends anyways! I had my turkey dinner on Saturday, then ate turkey for lunch and dinner again yesterday. I'm glad Thanksgiving is in October. If it were the same as in the States, I don't know if I could appreciate turkey again at Christmas as much!

Off to work today. Don't want to go, but at least I'll be getting time and a half. I wonder how many customers will be ordering turkey for lunch today.

Have a good day everyone!

Family Dinners (October 11, 2008)

Today we are heading over to my mom's house for dinner. Thanksgiving dinner. Mmm. Turkey and all the trimmings. Thanksgiving is actually on Monday, but today is the only day mom has off of work this week. Works great for me!

Up until about 5 years ago, Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Boxing Day, and News Years day, the entire family got together to eat, visit, and celebrate. As our family gets older, cousins get married and have families of their own, and "share" these holidays with their in-laws. My mom and her sisters (who are the one's who take turns hosting these family get togethers) have decided to not to have "big" celebrations anymore. Now it's more imediate family dinners. With the exception of Christmas.

I find it sad. I wish I a bigger place. Even though it would be a lot of work, it would be worth it to have the entire family together for a few hours.

So, I have decided that once I have a bit more money rolling in, I'm going to start having a family dinner every second Saturday. I'll deligate to certain family members what they can bring for a meal contribution. (would it be wrong to ask for a monitary donation?? I kid!! I kid!!) It will only be my mom, dad, sister and her 7 giblets, myself and my tribe. If it works out, then maybe I'll invite a few more every once in a while.

I think it's important for my kids to have that. I grew up having a SUnday dinner with the entire family at my grandma's every week. Then she moved to a much smaller place, and those Sundays became obsolete.

Wish me luck! I think I'll start that in about 3 weeks. I'll let you know how things went!

Imagine that! (October 10, 2008)

I've always had an over active imagination. Going swimming in a lake as a child had me fearing for my life almost every time, as I swam back to shore. I was pretty sure a shark was going to get me. But only if I had my back to the rest of the lake. I wouldn't let up on my fear until I made it to shore, got out of the water and turned around to look at the lake. Then all was well again.

I can go down a flight of stairs just fine. But to this very day, I have to *RUN!!* upstairs if I am alone. I hold my breath and bolt it. The very nano second I reach the top, I have to turn around to make sure there is no creepy ghost/zombie/monster thing chasing me, or reaching for me with bloody, elongated arms. Yes. Even in my own house. Yes, I said to this very day.

As a child I rarely had nightmares. My nightmares occurred while I was just dozing off, but still awake. I thought for sure hands resided under my bed. I had to be in the very center of my bed, and have nothing but my face sticking out of the blanket. I was positive if I left one mm of skin exposed, these hands would come up from all sides of the bed and get me.

I have been very blessed. Nothing traumatic ever happened to me, other than an occasional spanking for telling a whopper of a lie. I have no clue where these silly fears arise from.

Except one.

When I was either 8 or 9 years old, my dad let me stay up and watch the movie "The Silver Bullet". Oh. My. God. It's a werewolf movie, and gave me nightmares on and off until I was about 18 years old. I hate hate HATE being outside in the dark. Alone. Even at almost 30. Because I know a werewolf will get me. I know it.

Growing up, my parents would take my sister and I to Manitoba every summer and almost every other Christmas. From BC to Manitoba, it was usually a 3 day, 2 night trip. (Depending on how heavy dad's foot was). We learned fairly young to not depend on dad stopping at rest stops or gas stations. We just held it as long as we could, and 3 seconds before we would burst, dad would pull over and let us do our thing in the bushes. I hated it. No one would come with me, or stay with me. mom was busy doing her thing while rushing us back to the car. My sister is 7 years older than me, not to mention quite the prude. So at 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 etc years of age, I would sloowly check my surroundings for bears, man eating plants and rabid squirrels. The only thing edging me on was my full bladder promising to explode on me should I not go pee now!

After being yelled at to hurry up a few times, I'd finally hunker down and do my business. All the while knowing something was going to bite my butt. When I was done, I'd run like I have never ran before straight to the car, with I'm sure a combined look of relief and terror on my face. Strangely, questions were never asked.

I still have to look down an out house toilet before I do my thing, just in case... You know, just in case any of those wild BC crocodiles are out and about, waiting to prey on me bum.

Flash forward to this past July.

Every summer in Vancouver we have "The Celebration of Lights". It's wicked fireworks played in time with coordinated music. Different countries compete for the best show, and there's a huge finale at the end of the summer. Aaron (my boyfriend), my sister, and myself went. (No kids WOOHOO!!) The end came and it was time to go. We had quite a walk to get back to the sky train, and I had to pee so bad. I couldn't take it anymore. I let Aaron and my sister convince me to pee between 2 garbage dumpsters. They stood in front of me, with their backs to me of course, and all was well. I was in my glory. Ahh! The sweet relief! Sigh. Almost done. Wait. What was that? A strange sound emoted from my mouth "aieyAYAYAIEIAAAYYHHHHH!!!!! SOMETHING TOUCHED MY ASS!!! GAK! EGAD!" At this point, my sister and boyfriend still refused to turn around. The bastards were laughing at me. They were clueless that my worst nightmare was coming true, and some goblin was trying to eat me.

Keep in mind I'm squatting between 2 dumpsters in a back alley in Vancouver, with my ass hanging out and a river of pee coming out. (niiice, I know, eh?) Something touches my ass again. I swear to God I'm thinking a homeless person was trying to cop a feel. I try scooting forward just a smidgen, but think soundly that I'd rather get felt up by a hobo than pee on my shoes. As I'm edging forward oh so slightly, I notice something amiss. My purse. Is behind me. On the ground. Touching my bum. And getting peed on. My highly absorbent cotton/denim purse.

I never would have imagined that.

Braden Part 3 (October 9, 2008)

Show me a perfect parent. Well? Exactly. I definitely am NOT one. I have made so many mistakes, and I know I will continue to make them. But I feel this one is a doozy.

The past week or so has made me realise something horrible. Horrible and true. I gave up on my son. I gave up on him a very long time ago. I never realised this until about a week ago. Don't get me wrong. I love him with all my heart and soul. I would die for him. But along with his grade one teacher, I too have "failed" him. I am quick to hush him. When he starts jabbering on with some story then continues on and on and on, and ends up WAY off topic. It's annoying, so I shush him. Or give him a quick "Yeah yeah, mm hmm. Ok." And he's so LOUD. The more he talks, the louder he gets. The louder he gets, it's like he distracts himself, and the further off topic he gets.

What I am about to post, is very emotional for me. I feel so very very guilty. A guilt I have never felt before, and I hope I can forgive myself soon. I hope Braden will not hold it against me, and that everything will be okay. I feel I have severely effed up.

So Braden's grade 2 teacher is amazing. She got to know each and everyone of the students before hitting the curriculum. She knows my son. She knows how he works. Shouldn't it have been ME?

About the second week of school, Mrs. M came to me after school and said that Braden was calling out a lot previously, but he was doing very well with trying, and she cold see that. She very gently and kindly told me that one of her personal friends of many years was a speech therapist. She wondered if by any chance his loud voice and calling out had anything to do with some sort of speech problem. I didn't think much of it. She already had earned Braden and my trust. I told her to go ahead and set up an in school appointment. I really didn't think anything of it. They (Braden and the speech therapist *Mrs. D*) had an informal meeting, where she said she thought she could work with him. Monday, Braden met with her again for a formal evaluation.

Turns out my son has a language barrier. She described it to me as his brain being like a messy room. He has all these thoughts and ideas, but they can't come out "the right way". If someone reads a story to him and asks him to relay the story back, he'll start at the middle, go to the end, talk about fish and koala bears then finish with the beginning of the story. *DUH* I thought this was Braden not focusing. I thought this was my kid not paying attention because maybe he had better things to do. I thought he was trying to make me go grey. I am a stubborn selfish woman. If I had just put my anger aside last January when I received that letter, and taken my son in for "testing" WOULD the doctors have tested for a language barrier? Could I have made the last 9 months a lot easier on my poor baby?

Braden is dealing with a vicious cycle, and this ALL MAKES SENSE now. And this is why I am very angry at myself.
When he has something to say, he gets off topic quite easily. MANY times I have to tell him to take a deep breath and focus on what he needs to say. If not, he'll end up jumping all over the place (kind of what I am doing with this post apparently) and getting louder and louder. Sometimes in the middle of a sentence he'll just stop and say he forgot. Sometimes I am relieved by this. *hanging head in shame*

I was told that what he is struggling with, is when he is talking, he gets louder because he knows, he knows that people will start losing interest in him. Which causes his brain to think panic mode and blurts out part of what he's saying. IS this making sense? Am I making sense?

I remember when he was about 3 or 4, he could NOT say the word "yellow". he said "lellow" Cute, right? I thought so. Sometimes I would get him to try to say it correctly. When he got the "ye" sound out, he would stammer. It would end up sounding like "ye-ye-Yell-YELL-YELLOW!!!". He would end up SHOUTING it. I thought it odd, but funny. And it was the only word he ever did it with. Was that a sign I should have picked up on? No. Of course not. But I AM kicking my ass. I had a snotty thought that at the end of grade two when he was doing so well, I would go and have a little chat with the principle, and maybe the gr 1 teacher. (I hold grudges, what can I say) But wait. *I* didn't take him in for testing. I know they wanted him tested for ADD/ADHD, but what if. I know the what ifs are horrible, and the best of the best parents can waste away dwelling on what ifs. So I'm going to try not to. I'm going to try to pull my bitter ass into gear and get done for my son what needs to be done.

Along with feeling horribly guilty, I am also relieved. In a strange way, I am also excited. I will get to witness my son transitioning. Being able to get out ideas without me impatiently waiting for him to "get to the point already" or telling him to shush up. This obviously will not be an overnight thing. The school will be involved, as well as myself. I *DO* hope that it will strongly improve his self confidence. I need to learn how to help with that. I cannot imagine what I have done to help him feel inadequate. A little boy wanting to tell his mommy something. All he wants is to converse with me, and I tell him to shush because it's getting annoying that he's YELLING IN MY FACE and he's has zero topic to chat about.

Mrs. M. said that Braden has already progressed significantly with his school work. I beamed. Tears came to my eyes. I am SO SO SO very proud of my boy. Last night I vowed to myself that I will not give up on my son. Even though I fought tooth and nail last year to "protect" my baby, I really had, in a way, given up on him too. This is making me cry... it's too easy to get home from work/school/daycare, get a snack for the kids, send them off to play and "unwind" in front of the computer, and tell them I need quiet time. I say I need to work M-F 9am to 3pm so I can be at home with the kids. To do what? "SHUSH THEM??" Sigh.

Braden and Mackenzie. I love you more than you will EVER know. EVER. There will be times that you hate me, love me, think I'm the best, think I'm the worst. I promise whatever I do it's because I am trying to it for your well being. I may have to tell you to be quiet sometimes, but I will do my damnedest to never shush you again. The saying "kids should be seen, not heard" is a bunch of crap, and I am so so sorry.

Braden & his grade one experience. Part 2 (October 8, 2008)

So after our little chat about using the term "potty", I realized that this teacher had her priorities in a big ole funk. From this point on, I referred to her as trying to make my child into a little robot. One that would conform and do exactly as SHE pleased.

Before I continue, I must say that Braden is not a perfect little angel. He can be a handful at times. Sometimes he gets an idea in his head, and whatever the consequences might be, he has to do it. Hence the teacher describing him as impulsive. Example - "Braden, do not knock over little Jimmy's Lego tower." "What? THIS one?" BAM. "Oops. I'm sorry" Or "Braden, Don't run in the.. DON'T run in the.. BRADEN!! STOP RUNNING IN THE BLOODY HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!"

Also, as I believed I may have mentioned before, I don't think Mrs. U. is a bad teacher. I think and thought at the time, that she was a bad teacher for my son. She had just come back after one year mat leave, thrown into a K/1 split that she made very clear she didn't want, and had her own personal issues. I wasn't always a bitch to her. I did (really!) try to empathise with her situation, but a lot of her behaviour was still unacceptable.

About a week after the "potty" incident, I told her very nicely that I didn't really feel comfortable with hearing about other students for 2 reasons. One, That my concerns were for Braden, and unless the complaints regarding the other student directly involved my son, I didn't want to hear it. Two, I told her that I was concerned that she was discussing my son with other parents. She surprised the shit out of me. She looked taken aback at first, then apologized profusely. She agreed that it was very unprofessional, and that she didn't even realise she was doing it. She said she wouldn't anymore, and thanked me. Sincerely. As far as I know, she kept her word.

Atfer that, she began relaying positives back to me. "Braden is so helpful and caring." "Braden is excelling in math." "Braden is the sweetest and most adorable little boy ever". Okay, so she didn't say the last part. But we all know she wanted to, right? ;) Things calmed down for a while, and I heard nothing until January.

January. January was a BAD month to piss off mama bear. I just went from single mom to 2 kids to single mom of 5. That's when my nephews came to live with me. About 2 weeks after Christmas holidays were over, Braden brings home a letter in his backpack. This letter said they would like to have Braden tested for any possible learning disabilities that may be detrimental to his schooling. They. "They" were the teacher, principle and 2 "high upper" school people. What I found out, was it is illegal for a school or teacher to request for ADD/ADHD testing. (In Canada anyways)But that is EXACTLY what they wanted him tested for. I stewed for a while. I wondered if I was blinded and if my son really did have a major issue that I have been denying, or just couldn't see. My "instincts" told me that no, Braden does not have a learning disability. I bounced it off of almost everyone who knew Braden and I. I asked the same thing to everyone. "Am I missing something? Am I in denial? Am *I* failing my son? Do you really think he could have ADD/ADHD?" Every single person I spoke with said an emphatic "No." I even spoke with his angel of a kindergarten teacher. One of my family members is a teacher. All said "No way."

Then I found this out.

There were 9 grade one kids. 5 boys, 4 girls. 4 boys and one of the girls received this letter. What the hell are the chances that FIVE children from the same school, let alone the same CLASSROOM could have ADD/ADHD or ANY type of learning disability? You can't imagine how livid I was. So I wrote my own letter. It was firm, polite, (I didn't swear in it once!!) and to the point. I wasn't getting my son tested, as there has been ZERO feedback on my son's education. Not once was I told he was behind in anything. If there had been an issue regarding his schooling, I told them I was sure they would come to me. Right? Since all the complaints were that Braden wasn't "up to par" with behaviour, but he wasn't "bad" either. (Their words!)

Things died down for a while. One day, at the end of May, when I was waiting to pick up my nephew from the other kindergarten class, Mrs. U. told me very shocking news.

Her exact words were, "I don't know how or why I missed it. But we did our reading assessment with the kids today. I don't know what happened, and why I didn't catch it before. But Braden's reading level is very far behind." I felt my heart drop for my son. I remained very calm and said "How far behind?" She replied, "At this time of year I like to see the kids at a level 14-16. Braden is at a level 5-6." I wanted to punch her. She has been "teaching" my kid for the past 9 months and he is ONE READING LEVEL HIGHER THAN HE WAS IN KINDERGARTEN?!?! I gritted my teeth as she continued. "He is a bright kid. I've always seen it, but he never wanted to apply himself fully. I honestly don't know how he slipped under the radar. I Do want you to know that Braden has taught me a lot about teaching this year." I wanted to throw her to the ground, punch in her face and rip her hair out. Well, LA TI FLIPPING DA My son taught HER. I'm pretty sure from this post and the previous post you can generate a pretty good idea yourself as to why she "failed to catch her mistake."

Stay tuned for the finale of "Braden & his grade one experience." It's gonna be a good one and make you shake your head. It'll contain where Braden is now!!

*** To add to yesterday's post - after Kenzie woke up, she was DRY! I ran her to the bathroom, and she peed an ocean! Then she pooped at daycare AND at home ON THE POTTY!! We are well on our way. YAY!! I'll back off on the potty updates now. For a while, anyways. I MIGHT wait till she's in underwear. Maybe. Okay reader? Hi SHANNON!! (*if* there's anyone else.. say hi so I know who's out there!:))

Poop Update Number 2 (pun intended) (October 7, 2008)

The very day I posted regarding Kenzie & potty training, Mackenzie took a giant crap. In her diaper. And didn't pee on the potty once. That was Saturday. Same with Sunday. Sunday night she told me she had to poop, so I ran her to the bathroom and...she sat there. and sat some more. Nothing. Turns out the little bugger just wanted stickers. I had to explain that something had to come out for a sticker. I thought I would have a fight on my hands, but surprisingly she seemed okay with that. Whew! Crisis averted!

Yesterday at daycare I was informed that she didn't poop at all. She did pee though. In her diaper. ARG!! This little girl likes to keep me on my toes however. She went from 2:00pm to 8pm dry! She told me twice that she had to pee, and she made it to the toilet both times! By 8:00pm her diaper was still dry! WOO HOO!! I'm guessing it's going to be a "2 steps forward, one step back" type of potty training, but you know what? I'm actually okay with it. Keep up the good work Miss Princess Kenzia!! You're doing just fine. And don't mind Mommy when you see her neck twitching, okay?

Braden & his grade one experience. Part 1. (October 6, 2008)

I promised to post about Braden's grade one experience. I have briefly touched base in previous posts, but will now elaborate.

The 3rd day of grade one, (which was technically 2.5 days, as the first day was a half day) His teacher asked me if his birthday was late in the year. I said no, he just turned 6 at the end of July. Why? She replied "Well, he just seems so...young". Um. He's SIX.

Before I continue, I must note that she has just come back after a year of maternity leave (thank you Canada!!), and is used to teaching only kindergarten. Not a kindergarten/grade one split. There were 9 grade ones and 12 kindergartners

The 4th day of school Mrs. U. said she did not want Braden and this other boy in the same class. Now, it wasn't just these tow things that were said that made my red flags go up. It was a feeling. That mother instinct feeling.

After Mrs. U. told me she didn't want these students in the class together, I said "FINE! I'll see what I can do." I didn't want him in the split class anyways, and *knew* this was going to be a challenging year. Boy, is that an understatement!

So I marched my butt down to see the principle, told him I wanted my son switched to the other grade one class, where he tells me, "As a rule, I make no classroom switches during the first week of school. See how next week goes, and if you feel the same way, we will rectify this." Okay. Fine. Fair enough. I let it go the entire next week. Monday to Friday I hear moaning, whining, and complaining from the teacher. Not about my son. But about other students! How unprofessional! I certainly don't want my son discussed with other parents, and I'm sure other parents feel the same way! So the Monday after the second week of school, I go in to speak with the principle to have Braden switched. He said No. HUH? Excuse me?? WHY NOT. He tells me "As a rule, I NEVER make changes to the classroom list after the second week." I was SO mad I couldn't say. a. word. I repeated what he told me and he squirmed. I told him I TRIED talking with him on Friday after school but he wasn't there. I want a change NOW. I honestly don't remember what he said to convince me. I do recall telling him if the teacher continued to be this unprofessional, I WOULD have something done.

Now, keep in mind, I am very outspoken...with friends, family and people that I know I won't see again or very often. I do get intimidated though quite easily. I have never been a mother to a grade one kid before. I had NO CLUE as to how much input I had over the teachers/school.

In October, the teacher called a meeting. Her, the teacher who taught on Friday's, the principle and Braden's Wednesday teacher...from kindergarten, plus the other grade one teacher. The reasons for this meeting?

1 - Braden's behaviour. He stuck his middle finger out at another student at lunch time. Who, incidentally, ADMITTED it was him who taught my kid that, and that Braden didn't know what it meant. Until AFTER the teacher told him what it meant! There was no meeting for this boy.

2 - Braden went pee to much. He left the classroom multiple times a day to go to the washroom. "Does he ask, or just leave?" I questioned. "He asks", says the teach. I asked her "what do you tell him?" She responded "I say 'If ya gotta go, ya gotta go!" I told her the bathroom trips were her issue, not mine. All I could tell him was not to go if he didn't have to, but if the teacher was going to let him, How is that MY issue?

3 - Braden turned the bathroom light off on another student who was using the washroom. (It's a single toilet bathroom with the switch on the outside) She said that when he did it, he laughed and "told on himself" saying "Ha ha ha!! I just turned off the light on so and so!" The teacher was mortified and disgusted. She said she couldn't understand why he would do something like that and find it funny. I laughed. The laughter didn't go over well. They kept trying to tell me how dangerous it was and yada yada yada. I interrupted and said "Maybe Braden "told on himself because what he did was FUNNY. Not BAD. Maybe inappropriate, but not bad." Mrs. U. said, "well I just don't know where he would get that from!" So I laughed more, and said "Maybe from me! *I* do that to him sometimes. He turned the light on right away, right?" She nodded. They ALL squirmed in their chairs.

Mrs. D (his Wednesday kindergarten teacher) was asked how his behaviour was the last year. (the principle was new last year. That's why he didn't know him. *side note. Braden was NEVER sent to the office) All she could say was "He was always running in and out of the classroom. In one door and out the other. Know what I told her? The truth. I said "First of all, what you have to say here I would like to be ignored. This is a new year, a fresh start and you only taught him once a week. Not ONE SINGLE TIME was there EVER ANY complaint about my son last year. Not. ONE. As for him running in and out of the class? I can assure you, as I witnessed myself, the only time that happened was Wednesdays. Not to mention, Braden wasn't the only one, was he?" She looked down and admitted (although stuttering and stammering) that yes, there were quite a few other kids who did it too.

Sometime in November I really realized that Mrs. U. was not teaching children. She was trying to conform them. I don't think she did it on purpose, but here's why I now refer to her as wanting to robotize my child.
She came to me after school one day and said that Braden said "potty" a lot. I thought she meant he was being a shit head and just kept saying "potty" over and over again to be annoying. WRONG.
She continued with, "I think at this age kids should be saying "washroom" or "bathroom" instead of "potty". It just sounds better. Maybe you could work on this at home with him?" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I looked at her with my eyebrows raised and said "*I* say 'potty'. My 1.5 year old say "potty". I don't care what he says as long as it isn't 'Yo teach! I gotta go piss and take a crap!'"

I ALMOST had her laughing. Probably from shock though. She changed her tune a bit. She said "well, I just don't want him to get teased if he's the only one saying it." I replied, "If Braden starts getting teased because of what he's saying, I'm pretty sure he'll change it on his own. Also, I would expect that as a teacher, you would discourage teasing?" She looked dumbfounded and nodded her head. I was PISSED.

Stay tuned for part 2, coming soon to a blog near you!

Poop update!! (October 4, 2008)

The other day I posted about Mackenzie's potty regression. I would like to announce that everyday since Thursday she has pooped on the potty! WOOHOO!! Bribing Rewarding her with Tinker Bell stickers has worked some magic. It took a day or two, but has worked so far nonetheless. She still won't pee on the potty though. Again, I'm not going to push her. She had already shown me she was 100% capable of poopin' on the pot, so I'm continuing with the desperate pleas encouragement.

We did have a teeny tiny minor meltdown here though on Thursday evening. It seems the funds had run a tad low, as well as the pull-up supply. So I had to face some humility and head to the coughfoodbankcough to get some supplies. They had no pull-ups. Uh Oh. They did have size 6 diapers though, which was awesome. Awesome for me. Not so much for Mackenzie. At home she runs around naked noody (thank you for hardwood floors!!) but come bedtime I had a VERY offended little girl.

"I need a pull-up on now mommy"

Um...

"Okay sweety. But I don't have any right now."

Blank stare...

"I DO have some diapers though."

The look on her face made Braden leave the room. I could just see Braden thinking, Mom, you messed up BAD. The look on her face also made me talk really sweet. And very fast.

"Oh-hunny-the-store-was-out-of-pull-ups-because-someone-else-must-have-needed-them-before-we-did." *Switch to fake happy and overly excited voice* "But we're just going to use these until mommy can get to the store and buy you some real pull-ups. Ok? Sweety-pie-princess-Kenzia??"

I held my breath. I seriously held my breath. I had no idea how this child was going to react...

"Okay mommy!"

and..... exhale! Whew!

**Note to self - What's one bounced cheque when it comes to the option of pull-ups or donated diapers? Oh. Right. SANITY. I'm sure the landlords will understand. They have kids... Rent schment. Definitely going for the pull ups.

*Beeeeep* (October 3, 2008)

My father is a very paranoid man. He's a prison guard for the federal government, and has been for the past 27 years. He's worked in maximum, medium and minimum institutions. He has seen the scum of the earth. He's had shit flung at him, has had to intervene countless times from stopping one inmate from killing another, had his life threatened one or 1200 times. At one point in his career he was attacked by a full blown AIDS victim who was bleeding, and who was trying to infect him as well. Luckily he wasn't infected, and that this was an isolated incident. Raising 2 daughters and working in that environment was not easy I'm sure. I can fully appreciate and respect his paranoia. I'll add here that I got all my stubbornness from my mother...because dad still has his.

The extent of his paranoia is driving me CRAZY. About 70-80% of any phone conversation I have with him, the phone beeps. It's actually him unintentionally pushing a button on the keypad. I can relay the conversation that follows. Every. Single. Bloody. Time.

*Beeep*

Dad - "What was that?"

Me - "That was you dad. You bumped the..."

Dad - "No. It was not me. I know where my fingers are. It was you." (If he *knows* it was me, then WHY did he ask me what it was?)

Me - "No dad. It was you. This only happens when I'm talking to you."

Dad - "This only happens when I'm talking to YOU. You need a new phone."

Me - "Sigh. Ok. Then buy me one. But what are you going to do when *it* beeps again? You gonna keep buying me new phones? Maybe it's your sausage fingers combined with your 1990 cordless. Ya think?"

Dad - "What was that? Did you here that? I think I can hear people talking..."

Me - "Sigh.. Dad? Turn your TV down."

Dad - "Oh."

Dad - "Wait! Can you hear that?"

Me - "Hear what? You having a major brain fart?"

Dad - "I didn't raise you to be such an asshole ya know. I'm serious. What's that noise?"

Me - *straining to hear the little voices that may or may not be speaking to my semi delusional father* "No dad. I hear nothing."

Dad - "You know, I heard that So and So was released from prison not to long ago. I'm pretty sure I'm on his hit list with a few others... I wonder if that c*cksucker (dad's oh so very favourite choice of nicknames)has tapped my phone. Jebuz H Christy. I'll empty a few rounds into that effer if he comes here, I'll tell you that!"

Me - "Dad! OK! Calm down. Fine. It was me. I bumped the friggin number 9 with my inherited sausage fingers. You're going to give yourself a freaking aneurysm or something."

Dad - "Nope. With today's technology it would be SO easy to tap into someones phone line. I wouldn't be surprised if we're being listened to right now. That beeep was probably the tapper thing being turned on."

*beeeep*

Dad - "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!"

Me - "Dad! Move your hand you old fart. If it's not your hand then it's your chin or something. You know what? I'm gonna let you go. I have to, um, go do something. Ok?"

Dad - "Fine. But when I wake up dead cuz some c*cksucker knows I'm home because of this phone call, I'm gonna haunt you! Goodbye!"

Me - "..."

*beeeep*

Me - "Dad? DAD!"

Dad - "Yeah?"

Me - "You didn't hang up. You hit a number key again."

Dad - "Aww for eff's sake! Gad dang c*cksucking mofo! Jebuz H. Christy..."

*CLICK*

Not so posh (October 2, 2008)

I'm addicted to blogs. More so to reading what other people blog about than actual blogging myself. I read A Womb at the Inn(sane) everyday. This woman is my age. As in, she too will be 30 in November. And she has 7 kids. Yes. 7. And she likes them. She is fricken hilarious. I don't even remember how I found her site. All I know is I need my daily dose of innsaneness. (seriously. go read her. If you're crazy like me start with the archives and work your way up.) Either yesterday or the day before she had posted a contest where you click on the link, and be the 214th person to comment and you win a prize. A necklace. I clicked on the link, and found out I had to sign up to view this prize and post to comment on. I figured what the heck. So I did. Then I'm informed by the site I had to be accepted first. Hmm. There goes any chance of winning a necklace. (Not like I WEAR necklaces. I just wanted to have a shot at winning SOMETHING!!)

Either later that night or the next morning, I checked my email. I had been accepted. YAY! I go to the site to check it out. Uh.Oh. Clearly I am in the WRONG area. Clearly they have not checked out MY site (this blog you are staring at with glassy eyes) because if they had, they would not have accepted me. Nor would 2 of them have added me as "friends". Why? Be patient. I'm getting there. This site is called... (don't laugh and if you are taking a drink, put it down before you snort beverage out of your sinuses) ... "The Posh Parent" and the subtitle is "The chic parent guide to everyday fabulousness".

Posh. Brit. Elegant, high-class, as in a posh hotel. Its origins lie in the abbreviation for "port out, starboard home," indicating the best berths on sailings from England to India

Definition: luxurious, upper-class


ME?? POSH?? BWAHAHAHAH cough cough cough. ahem. Now before you start rolling your eyes, It's really not as "fru-fru" as one may think. I haven't had very much time to go through it to see what's going on over there, but look forward to it. There's blogs, "societies", forums, chat, etc.

Along with the acceptance to me joining this poshness, I also has two friend requests. One of them is the site administrator. (has to be, but since I'm new to all of this, who knows!) the other is Kadi (the blog owner of a womb at the innsane). Now I know there is some kind of joke going on. You see, a few days ago, Kadi had an "embrace your inner dorkness" contest. She invited all to send in stories of dorkness, photos and or videos to prove dorkyness. The winner got a prize. so I submitted these photos to prove my dork worthiness:








I didn't win. I didn't even get a vote. I should be happy, but not even one lousy vote. I guess I'm so over the top, that Kadi actually left out the photo with me wearing the glasses/nose getup. I can't believe I even sent these pics to a stranger!

These pics are proof that I am the brunt of someones joke. Yes! Come join The Posh Parent! I remember your face *snicker snicker* OR, Or maybe I'll be their little project. Maybe the person who can convert this:

















into THIS:





will win a lollipop.

Anyhoo. I must toodle off for my pedicure and noon hour martini. Jeeves will be around with the car in a flash, I mustn't keep him waiting. Pop pop cheerio now!!

Wow. They are quick. And GOOD!

(*I'm actually looking forward to checking out this site and talking with other "posh parent's" so shuddap!!*)

Concocted by Lana@The Kids Did WHAT?! at approximately 7:01 AM 1 reflections

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The poop and potty post.

When Mackenzie was 17 months old, we were watching "John and Kate plus 8". The sextuplets were 2 in the episode we were watching. They were also potty training. Mackenzie watched with awe, as I was telling her what these little people her size were doing.Then I remembered that I still had Braden's little plastic potty. I ran to the bathroom, blew the dust of the potty, and brought it in the living room.I asked Mackenzie if she wanted to try. She beamed, and said YUP!! So off went the pants. Off went the diaper. She sat down, and peed! I could not believe it. I was in shock. I had a 17 month old ready for potty training! Or so I thought. She didn't pee on that thing for another 4 months. I never pressured her. I only ever asked if she wanted to sit on it. 9 times out of 10 she wanted to sit. Nothing happened. Until she stood up, and promptly pissed on the floor.

You know how "they" say that peeing is the first step, and pooping is usually harder for them? Well, not in Mackenzie's case. She has mastered pooping on the potty. She'll be 3 in a month and a half, and has been pooping on the pot for the last 8 months. If she pees on the potty, it's only cuz she's still sitting down from the big #2.

The last month to month and a half, she has regressed. She poops in her pull-up. I can't figure out why. Her routine has been the same, she isn't constipated nor does she have diarrhea. I don't know if it's her stubborn will, or if she's just too damn busy playing to go to the bathroom.

I told her last night if she poops on the potty at daycare, she can have a sticker when she gets home. Because it's all about stickers you know. Stickers are more fun than playdough, have a healing power 10 times better/stronger than any band aid brand, and they just make the world go around. Ah, yes. Mackenzie and her sticker love affair. Why I did not think of this sooner, I will never know. (Shut up. I don't WANT to think about why I didn't think about it. Fine fine. It was a mommy brain fart. Happy now?) So we shall see today after daycare if she made it to the potty. Regardless if she made it or not, I'm going to come up with some kind of sticker potty chart for here and daycare. One sticker for poops on the potty, 2 stickers for pee.

Now go through this post and count how many times you see "potty" and "poop". If you count accurately, I'll give you a jelly bean. I should probably warn you that it's been in my pocket for 4 days, and has a nice collection of fuzz and lint. But it still smells good. Wait. Oh crap. I peeled the fuzz and lint off to see what colour it was, and I ate it. Sorry. No jelly bean. How about you just give yourself a nice pat on the back, OK?