Wednesday, 27 February 2008

Further Updates:

  • Lillian does indeed have strep. She's on antibiotics. She's also on day 3 of missed school, set to return tomorrow after she stops being contagious.
  • Rachel has the GI flu. She is also on day 3 of missed school, and can't return until she stops exploding out of both ends.
  • I got swabbed today for Strep also. Doc is worried this super cold I have is wanting to become Strep. I'm on day 3 of wishing the kids were in school.
  • Finnigan is just Finnigan. Not so much as a stray booger.

ATTENTION: Whomever stole my barbeque...

... You forgot the LID.

(Yes, seriously. Someone stole my $15 POS Walmart-special BBQ off my balcony, and left behind the lid.)

*Note: The cans and bottles that I had sitting on my deck at the same time are worth more in refund value than half a barbeque. My uber-intelligent theives not only stole the least valuable thing ON my patio, they actually only stole half the least valuable thing on my patio. They receive the gold star for stupidity award.

Tuesday, 26 February 2008

Not Suitable for Those with Weak Stomachs:

Let's be clear about one thing. I have no problem dealing with poop. I do it every day. Wipe, Diaper, Repeat. I even use cloth diapers, so dealing with the messier messes is just part of my day. However, there is a difference between the mess an 8mo, new-to-solids baby makes, and that of a 5 year old with the runs. :( Poor Rachel.

How can I put this delicately?


I can't. She left a trail of poo from her bed, to the bathroom, and then all the way down the hall to the living room where I finally intercepted her. At least my cold is still controlling my sinuses, so I couldn't smell a thing! After I got the living room, hallway, and bathroom all sanitized, cleaned her all up and tucked her safe and sound back into a cleaned bed with her little sippy cup, I turned to leave and...

... Stepped BAREFOOT into a big squishy puddle of poo. I could have cried. I think a little part of me died in that moment.

Lesson Number One: Light up the house like a surgical suite when hunting poo. Leave no rug unturned, no chair unmoved.

Lesson Number Two: Wear shoes. Always.

Lesson Number Three: Sick child + Pull Up = A lot less to blog about. In a good way.

Monday, 25 February 2008


  • Rachel is still complaining of an upset tummy, and has been living on water and juice for the last 24 hours. She stayed home from school today, and probably will again tomorrow. Over the course of last night, she threw up on every clean blanket I own, so today was dedicated to laundering them.
  • Lillian's throat is feeling better, but now her legs are hurting. She too missed school today. I know it's selfish, but I'd really rather she not pass around whatever it is she's got. She didn't complain about her ears hurting all day.
  • Both girls have chapped everything from all the mucous they've been marinating in.
  • My throat is doing much better, as are my ears. The cold I have is being more stubborn and is still hanging around.
  • Finnigan is miserable about SOMETHING. Could be a sore throat, could be teething, could have an itchy tag on his clothes. He doesn't sound any worse for the wear, just not quite himself.
  • We all stayed in our pajamas all day. :)

Sunday, 24 February 2008

Today was a gorgeous sunny day, so the kids and I headed over to the "Big Park" for some sun, sand, and swinging. The girls loved the swings, as always, and Finnigan enjoyed his first "flight"!

Ohhh, hold on tight Sophie! It's a long way down!

Look, I have a shoe.


Oh I'm gonna throw up...

All in all, it was a fun day. :)

Just so everyone knows...

Lillian has so graciously shared her sore throat with me. So if I sound like I swallowed a frog next time we speak, it's because my glands are swollen to the size of kiwis, and as much as I like you, I really don't want to talk right now.

My phone is now working though, so if I need you, I can and will call.

Things Rachel has decided to be when she grows up:

  • A "server girl".
  • A doctor, but only on Mondays.
  • A chef.
  • A duck.


Recipe for McDonalds Baby Food, care of Lillian and Rachel.

Take one chicken nugget, puree with cheeseburger and french fries.
Add breastmilk, a squeeze of lemon, and parsley.


Lillian's Exciting Night

Lily wound up in the emergency room tonight. She'd been complaining about a sore throat for a few days now, and today she started saying she couldn't swallow because of it. Since none of the walk-in clinics/doctors offices are open on weekends here, off to emerge we went. 5 hours later, the doctor diagnoses "redness in her throat" and tells me to pump her full of juice and tylenol and let her rest. Well shiiiit, I could have diagnosed THAT, you TOOL. Contrary to what you may believe, Dr. Obvious, I DON'T enjoy spending hours and hours with three kids including one infant alone in the emergency room.

And here I thought I'd be bored tonight...

In the end, Lily has a prescription for some anti-biotics, and has to go see her GP on Monday. Goody. She's all doped up now and feeling better. Poor Laly.

Friday, 22 February 2008

Finnigan and Mommy

Update from The Puzzle Family

Update: Andrew's posting to Chilliwack has been revoked. Just when you think all the pieces of your family will finally be put back together, the military comes in and trashes it. New working plan: Andrew will take a posting to the island, and then at least we can spend Friday through Sunday together while I build my career. It's a step in the right direction, at least my husband will live in the same province as his wife and children. Sigh.

On a positive note, the housing market there rocks!

Rogers is my nemesis.

My Crackberry fails. It won't even turn on. I'm going through withdrawls! Somebody, please - if the world is in the process of imploding, leave me a message here so I will know.
On the upside, my toilet now works...

Kira 1, Pizza Hut ZERO.

I ordered pizza online from Pizza Hut today. I checked the "Debit At The Door" option for payment. Two loaded pizzas, mmmmmm.
*FYI, my phone is BROKEN. Hence why I ordered online.*
So Mr. DeliveryBoy gets to my door with food in hand. He informs me that they do not "do" Debit At The Door in my area. ALLLLLL the other areas yes, mine no. Apparently Mr. ManagerMan had tried to call me to tell me this, but could not get through due to my broken phone. I informed Mr. DeliveryBoy that if DATD is not available in my area, it should not be offered in my area. I further informed Mr. DeliveryBoy that no, I did not wish to pay any other way. I chose DATD, and if he though he could arrive on my doorstep and suddenly change the gameplan, I would be quite willing to take my business elsewhere.

I got my pizzas for free.

Rachel Says:

Rachel: Mommy, Mrs. Veen plays guitar really good.
Me: She plays the guitar really well.
Rachel: Yeah, well. And really good too.

Wednesday, 20 February 2008

In the Life of Finnigan

Today Finnigan:

  • Cut his first upper tooth.
  • Sat unassisted for a full minute.
  • Started stage II foods.
  • Ate part of my MasterCard bill. (If only it were that easy!)
  • Allowed his older sisters to "fix his makeup".
  • Wore a crown.
  • Bit me.

TOP TEN: Things In My Purse

10.) 1 wallet, covered in barbeque sauce.
9.) 5 tubes of lipgloss, covered in barbeque sauce.
8.) 2 multi-tools, covered in barbeque sauce.
7.) 4 receipts, covered in barbeque sauce.
6.) 1 squeeky rubber giraffe, covered in barbeque sauce.
5.) 2.5 pens, covered in barbeque sauce.
4.) 1 tube moisturizer, covered in barbeque sauce.
3.) Miscellaneous coinage, both Canadian and American, covered in barbeque sauce.
2.) 2 ziploc bags of candy, covered in barbeque sauce.
1.) 1 squashed container of McDonalds barbeque sauce... Covered in barbeque sauce.

Monday, 18 February 2008

Mmmm, Oreos!

Finnigan was scooting around today, and discovered half an Oreo cookie under my computer desk. Needless to say, this made him quite happy!

Then, for the rest of the day, whenever I'd put him down he'd head straight for the desk. Little booger. He was NOT impressed when I did this to him, once he figured out it was an empty bag and that he couldn't eat the oreo in the picture:

If anybody asks, I did this on purpose...

Honest I did. I like the electric-skittle-creamsicle-carrot top's-long-lost-cousin look.
Remember my lovelies, all comments are moderated! ;)

Saturday, 16 February 2008

Rachel Says:

*While lying stretched out on top of me with her head on my chest*

Rachel: Mom, you know I can hear your heart beeping!

Friday, 15 February 2008

Water go down the HOOOOOOOLE! Well, sometimes...

As most of you know, I have toilet issues. Well, that's not really true. What I have is Rachel. On that note, I'm compiling a list of Things Rachel Has Flushed. Please note that no form of bodily waste made this list...

Things Rachel Has Flushed:

Hotel-sized toiletries, still in their little containers. (Got stuck)
A rubber duck. (Surprisingly, went down.)
The legs off her barbies. (Got stuck.)
Her AND her sister's toothbrushes. (Got REALLY stuck, necessitating a late night toilet replacement)
The caps off of every toothpaste tube we've ever owned. (Went down.)
The hair she cut off while giving herself a "makeover". (Went down.)
A Magazine. (Parts went down, the spine was recovered.)
The contents of a Jumbo bottle of Bubblebath. (Eventually went down, though I didn't have to clean my toilet for like a month.)
Countless Lipglosses/Lipsticks. (All went down.)
Dice. (Went down.)
Tweezers. (Got stuck, but were recovered with a Toilet Snake.)
Every brussel sprout she's ever been given, pre-digested. (Down.)
Her sister's artwork. (Turned into a paper-mache mess, unsalvageable but recovered.)
Polly Pocket, with complete wardrobe and suitcase. (Went down, has been sighted on a beach in Australia.)
TWO toilet paper roll holders - the springy white part. (Status unknown. Unrecoverable by myself, but the toilet has never quite been the same.)

New rule: Flush ONE MORE THING, and Mommy flushes YOU to go get it!

Rachel Says:

(Ok, so this happened a few months ago. But, since members of my family still giggle like schoolgirls - *Ahem*, Bear - about it, I think there should be a written record of it - for posterity's sake.)

*Rachel comes into the dining room, crawling on all fours with a sheet draped over herself*

Rachel: Mom! You can't tell if it's me or Lily!

(Raucus laughter)

Thursday, 14 February 2008

You only have to pay the fine if the ticket issuer is smarter than you.

I got a parking ticket today. Actually, I got a City of Langley Bylaw Violation Notice for being illegally parked. You see, according to the "officer", I was parked along a "yellow crub". Now, I'm all for obeying the law, but when you give me a ticket, PLEASE SPELL MY VIOLATION CORRECTLY. Because otherwise you'll just irritate me. And when I'm irritated, I'm not a nice person. So I took that ticket straight into City Hall. Picking up a copy of the Langley City Bylaws and a Young Drivers Manual on the way in, I got in line. When I finally got to the clerk woman, our conversation went something like this:

Me: I have been issued this ticket. *Hands over ticket*
Clerk: So how do you want to pay?
Me: I'm not going to pay.
Clerk: You have to pay, you violated the bylaw.
Me: Which bylaw would that be?
Clerk: *Checking ticket* You parked in a no-parking zone.
Me: Hmmm. It says here I parked at a "yellow crub". Would you be so kind as to explain to me what a yellow crub is and where I would find one? I was not aware of the parking restrictions near yellow crubs.
Clerk: There's no such thing as a yellow crub.
Me: If there's no such thing as a yellow crub, then how could I possibly violate a bylaw surrounding it?
Clerk: *Blank stare* I think it's supposed to mean "curb".
Me: And I think I was supposed to be parked somewhere else.

(At this point she calls her supervisor over)

Me: As I've explained to "Becky" here, I got a ticket for parking along a yellow crub. Becky tells me there's no such thing as a yellow crub. Now, I'm no minimum-wage, ESL bylaw-enforcement officer, but if this ticket says yellow crub, and there's no such thing as a yellow crub, isn't this an invalid ticket?
Supervisor: *Scrutinizing ticket* But it's supposed to be "curb".
Me: Exactly.
Supervisor: So you have to pay.
Me: *Handing over manuals* Soon as you show me where exactly I violated a bylaw by parking at a yellow crub.
Supervisor: I can't do that.
Me: You can't prove I violated a bylaw?
Supervisor: Well, there is no bylaw for yellow crubs, they don't exist.
Me: So I got a ticket for something that's not technically against any bylaw?
Supervisor: But it's SUPPOSED to read "curb".
Me: Probably. But it doesn't. So, once again, does that or does that not invalidate this ticket?
Supervisor: (Long pause) I guess it does.
*Becky cancels the ticket*
Supervisor: Parking along yellow curbs is against the bylaws, though.
Me: Maybe so, but parking along yellow crubs is not. Have a nice day!

Lesson 1: You must be at least 2% smarter than they/that which you are trying to control.
Lesson 2: If you happen to be ticketed by someone >/= 2% dumber than yourself, you don't have to take that ticket seriously.
Lesson 3: If you don't speak english, the City of Langley has got the perfect job for YOU!

BTW, the ticket was for $15. But my way is more fun. ;)

Wednesday, 13 February 2008

Junior Pod Show - Feb. 13, 2008

Tonight was the girls' Junior Pod Show. It was a chance for us families to see what our kids have been up to all day! They put on a little show:

They also had a "Gallery Walk" to show off a sampling of the children's artwork:

Lillian Nolan, "Farmhouses"

Lillian Nolan, "My House"

Lillian Nolan, "Buildings"

Lillian Nolan, "Treehouse, in Shading"

Lillian Nolan, "Self Portrait, in Pastels"

Rachel Nolan, "My Heart, in Tissue Paper and String"

Good Job girls, I'm so proud of you! :)

Football, Soccer, & Track - OUT. Tai Chi - IN.

I'm 24. I've never thought of myself as "old". (Of course, being married with three children by 24, who has time to think?!?). Anyway, this was before today. Today, my lovely daughters came home with an information booklet about "Tai Chi". What is Tai Chi, you ask? Allow me to edumacate you! With help from a grainy, photocopied leaflet, I've learned that Tai Chi is a form of martial arts from Ancient China that utilizes ultra-slow, controlled movements to improve everything from your strength to your immune system! Tai Chi is also what my children are doing during gym class. Excuse moi? What happened to jump ropes and pommel horses? Now my children are "putting their heels forward to feel the water, putting their toes back to feel the towel". Am I missing something? I just got more effective excercise writing about it than if I'd done it myself! Those young wippersnappers! Back in MY day we had to run around a football field in the sleet until we "felt the burn". And that was just our warmup! Now kids are doing sets of "waving hands", and "stroking bird's tail". HELLOOOO? El PAC Presidente? Maybe something that burns more than a half calorie, k?

To be fair, The Pamphlet touts Tai Chi as being "scientifically proven" to enhance stamina, balance, and - most importantly - the flow of "Qi" through your body. (Qi being the "life energy that circulates throughout the body, performing many functions to maintain good health." Obviously.) I'm having visions of elementary school students standing on a bluff somewhere, wearing white pajamas and "gathering sun beams". Yup, THAT should burn off a lot of energy!

I'd like to be on board with this, I really would. I'm digging the whole mind/body/spirit/la-de-da thing. I'm just trying to get a handle on the train of thought that went into a physical education unit called "Tai Chi 4 Kidz". Work with me here. ADHD/ADD is on the rise. Childhood obesity is on the rise. As is Juvenile diabetes. As are heart disease, cholesterol, and blood pressure in children. Solution? Lets all pretend we're flowers just a-swaying in the breeze. That'll get your heart pumping! Teachers can't get their (unmedicated) students to sit still during story time, does anyone really think little John and Judy EveryKid are going to focus on 45 minutes of "invisible circles"?!? Not to mention that even if they did, they've only burned off the calories from a mouthful of Cheerios. Good grief. Anyone who has small children knows you need to run them like DOGS to tire them out! Hey kids! Sit down and be quiet ALL DAY, and then during PE, your last bastion of childhood, you'll get to stand in straight lines and run, jump, play unlock your Qi. Fun!

Society wonders why children are getting old before their time. Judy is dressing like a hoochie, John is doing "exericizes" my 81 year old arthritic grandma could do, and they're both OD'ing on phthalates from their damn drinking cups. I just don't know how this is happening!

So the onus, as always, is on the parent. To teach because the teacher doesn't have enough time, to exercise because the coach is too busy "kicking the beehive". Public schools are fast becoming overly-structured daycare. I love my kids, but if I wanted to teach them everything myself, I'd homeschool. I'm human! I simply cannot be a teacher AND a coach AND a mom, all while holding down a full-time job and lactating. I can't. Can't, can't, can't.

Something's gotta give.

Or maybe it's just that my Qi is blocked up.


Monday, 11 February 2008

Random Things I've Been Googling:

For those that care, these are Ptarmigans:

Popular in Ontario, they're kind of like Owls (I think). The "P" is silent.


She's a Beauty, She's a Beast, and She's En Pointe!

This is what happens when your five year old finds your old toe shoes. *Sniff* She got her first ballet blister and everything! I'm so proud...

(Again, sorry about the quality - I can't find my "real" camcorder!)

Cryogenics for the Suburban SAHM.

I went into my storage room today and came hand-almost-to-body with a big, gross, 8-legged demon err, spider. I do not like spiders. And he was on my turf! Fighting off a fit of revulsion, I slowly reached out my hand for something to smash it to smithereens with, while making sure to never break eye contact lest he jump on me or touch me in any way. The first thing I touched was a can of compressed air, more commonly used to clean the dust out of my computer keyboard. I swear I grew horns and a pointed tail at this exact moment. I released the safety. I lined up the nozzel. I LET 'ER RIP!!! I flash-froze the little bastard right where he stood. *Insert evil smiley*. Now, the idea of squashing a now frozen spider is less scary - but just as gross - as squashing a live spider. But, having never freeze-dried another living being before, I'm not quite sure if it will still be alive once it "thaws". So I did what any other woman would do. I trapped it under a cup. Pity the first man to knock on my door, he shall be put on spider-squashing patrol. ;) So there he remains, looking out on the world with an icy, frozen stare, from his upturned glass purgatory.

*Of special note: If you ever trap a frozen spider under a cup, and then nudge the spider with the cup, it will skitter across the horizontal surface like a little frozen-spider air-hockey puck. I'm so going to Hell...

Sunday, 10 February 2008

Sunday Confessions - Feb. 10/08

  • I confess it's 12:36am, and I just made Rice Krispie squares - and will probably end up eating all of them by myself!
  • I confess that sometimes my blog makes up it's own edits and layouts, and it bugs me.
  • I confess that my 5 and 6 year olds are not very agreeable creatures.
  • I confess I DO think the "I Eat Mop" joke is funny! ;)
  • I confess that I hate the word "orientated". I know it's a "real" word - albeit a relatively new word - but I still don't like it. What's wrong with the origional word -> "orient"? Why do you need the extra "ate"? It just sounds like a double ending. It's like saying "believe you me". What the hell does that even MEAN? Ok, I feel better now. ;)
  • I confess I still nap when the baby does. When does this stop being allowable? Oh well, raising three kids by oneself is tiring.
  • I confess that if my lovely daughters tell me one more time that "she hit me/she pinched me/she's being mean/she's looking in my general direction" I'm going to lock myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. I thought only boys fought physically like this?!?
  • I confess Goodwill is getting a big bag from us today! HOW did my kids end up with all this dollar store CRAP??? And McDonalds toys take up a LOT of space for being so small...
  • I confess I've considered donating it ALL to Goodwill - maybe kids there will appreciate it. Hmmmm...
  • I confess I cleaned the kitchen, living room, and dining room in the time it took them to clear out HALF of what's under their bunk bed.
  • I confess I'm so frusterated with them I could cry.
  • I confess I wish Andrew was here to lay the Daddy Smackdown on them and get them straightened out.
  • I confess I can't clean without listening to the oldies, and it's all my mom's fault. ;)
  • I confess I'll be able to clothe all the homeless in my town after I finish cleaning out my closet. And they'll be the best-dressed homeless vagrants EVER!
  • I confess I get happy every time I log in and see my ticker going up up UP! Thank you!
  • I confess Finnigan is wearing sweatpants for the second day in a row. Those who know me know how painful this confession is! Lol.
  • I confess I'm going to bed early. Good night world.

Saturday, 9 February 2008

Annnnddd... He's Off!

Who needs to sweep or vaccuume? I've got a mobile baby!

(Sorry for the video quality, I just took it on my little digi cam.)

"I'm hungry/I'm bored/I can't sleep and NOOOOOO!" 87 Ways Small Children Say "I'm Tired". Lesson One: Stalling.

Me: "Rachel, why are you out of bed?"
Rachel: "I wanna show you sumsin'."
M: "What do you want to show me?"
R: "Ummmmm..."
M: "Go to bed, you're tired."


Me: "Lillian, why are you out of bed?"
Lillian: "I'm hungry."
M: "What do you want?"
L: "I don't know."
M: "Bread? Apple? Steak dinner?"
L: I"'m just not hungry for any of those things."
M: "You're not hungry for anything. Your little brain is confused."
L: "No."
M: "Go to bed, you're tired.


Me (exasperated): "WHY are TWO GIRLS out of bed?!?!?!?
Both: "We can't sleep"
M: "You've been in bed for three seconds."
2: "We tried, but we just can't sleep."


Finnigan: "Gbsplxt?"
Me: "Go to bed, I'm tired."

Thursday, 7 February 2008

Chip Rock: It's What's For Dinner.

I was slicing up a ham this evening into hamsteaks and sandwhich slices, and I moved to adjust the plate I was putting the cuttings on - totally forgetting about the big-azzizzle carving knife in my hand - and stuck the knife into the wall. Oops.

New rule: No more knives after 11pm!

*Edited to add that it would figure this is the subject of this post - lucky #13. ;)

Checks and Balances. ;)

If someone knows how to use blog spellcheck, please PLEASE teach me. I try clicking on the little icon dealie, but my efforts thus far have been in vain. Do I have to send it flowers first or something? Re-editing posts for every instance where my brain couldn't keep up with my fingers is tedious and time-consuming.

Thanks in advance!

Life, With Personality!

Something has been bouncing around in my brain today. How do you treat someone, online or "IRL", that has very recently come into your universe? Let me give you a "for instance". Let's say you belong to a group of "regulars - and maybe a few "irregulars" ;) - at your friendly neighbourhood coffee house. You all get along, you may differ in opinions on varying topics, but as a whole there is an air of respect and general friendliness. Now one day you're sitting there with your newest cup o' calories, and in walks someone new. It's a public coffeehouse, nothing you can do even if you wanted to. Newbie McNewPerson ponies up at the counter, and brings their coffee - and commentary - into your already established group.

How does this scene play out? Are you the type to think of this latest joiner as simply a friend you haven't yet met? Or are they a tresspasser who must prove themselves worthy of inclusion? I've discovered that most will fall into a "gray area". They say - it all depends on how the new person acts, and reacts to the origional group. I know some who would land like a bomb among packing peanuts in a situation like this. You know the type - loud and boisterous, they have an opinion on EVERYTHING, and they are not afraid to share it. People like this tend to over-share their opinions, ie. "YOU'RE wrong, I'M right, and if you don't agree then I'm just going to steamroll over you." On the opposite end of the spectrum, we've got the type who will pull up a chair to the outer circle and simply take it all in. Get a feel for the group before getting right into the thick of things. Do you treat these types of people differently? Or was your answer secret option 3 - move your coffee group to someplace that WAS private and exclusive, and be done with newcomers all together?

I suppose my real question is, do people have to BE LIKE you for you to LIKE them? Me - I'm more like the quiet addition. I like to scope out a scene before I throw my hat in the ring. Therefor, I tend to have a higher tolerance for these kinds. While I don't neccessarily have a problem with Bomb People, I tend to be quicker to judge them, and that first impression can be difficult to overcome. Luckily for me, Bomb People seem to dissappear as quickly - and flamoyantly - as they arrived. The once-quiet ones don't get the immediate attention that Bomb People do, but when you do notice them, it seems like they've always been a part of things. Bomb People are great for a heated debate, but it generally ends with hard feelings all around, and reorganization of the group hierarchy undoubtedly follows. Those who have taken the time to become ingrained into the group have built up respect to and for their fellow people, and debates tend to be lively without being degrading. Bomb People NEED to be right, and they NEED to be right RIGHT NOW. Their more mellow, laid-back counterparts can (and do) enjoy the trading of ideas and perspectives without being personally offended when someone doesn't share their viewpoint. Now, I'm not saying I immediatly write off anyone who blows into my life like a hurricaine, but I've found that those with staying power are the ones who are able to appreciate the getting there.

I have plenty of "Bomb" friends, but those are the friends who are only good for one tiny aspect of my life. My Shopping Bomb. My Political Bomb. My Bar Bomb. My nearest and dearest are multi-faceted, and can relate to me on more levels - as a mommy, a young woman, a 9-5'er. These are the ones I can picture in my life in 5, 10, 15 years. Bombs have no "give", and you need give to grow.

So sit back, relax, take in the scenery. Learn everything you can before declaring yourself a master on your choice topic. Remember, it is he who knows most who knows best - not he who is loudest.

And do it over a Venti, two-shot, extra-hot, full fat, full sugar, no-foam latte with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. ;)

This is what SPOILED looks like:

Wednesday, 6 February 2008

It's True - I've Got ADS.

(You just read that title twice, didn't you? ;) )

As you can see - I now have ads. As in "advertisements". You'll have to locate them on your own, because as I understand it I'm not allowed to call attention to them. These ads generate revenue for me, though I'm not allowed to say how much or how often. There are a lot of rules and restrictions for having ads, most of which were WAAAAAAY too technical for my poor strained blogger brain. But, I figure if it's something I don't know how to do anyway, I'm probably safe.

I just wanted to post and let you all know I am fully aware of my ad infestation, and it's a symbiotic relationship we have. Ads are like vampires - you have to invite them in!

All ads courtesy of Google.


Baby Products That Need Inventing.

  1. A walker with a built-in vaccume. This way A.) baby is not creating trails of sweet-potato puffs everwhere he goes, and B.) baby actually improves his environment! It will be like a baby-propelled Roomba. Genius.
  2. Whine-cancellation device. Like noise-cancelling headphones, except the size of my house. a baby "mute" button would work too.
  3. An Easy-Change crib bumper set. These things are SUCH a PITA to get on and off. Apparently it's easier if you are 7 months old.
  4. A vibrating crib. why is it that they have all these newborn beds with a million bells and whistles, but then you have to transfer LO to a crib that's just... a crib? Where's the vibration? Where's the gentle, soothing rocking motion?
  5. Baby mouth guards. Not for baby, but for mommy! Those little white chicklets are SHARP.

If I were a little better at following through with these things, I could be RICH.

Views from the Drivers Seat

Winter, in BC, seems to exist in a kind of stop-motion reality. Year after year it returns. And yet somehow each year drivers young and old seem amazed every time it does. In the interest of clearing up the confusion, I'll take the time to explain it to them. It's called SNOW. It's white, it's cold, it falls from the sky. Think of it as stray shavings from God's SNO-CONE maker. This "snow" makes roads slippery. Thus, one must compensate by slowing down from the muderous speeds one (most) seem to regularly function at. Tip: Take your lead-foot off the gas pedal. This does not mean you must slow down to a speed that even our Shaw friends the Snailskis would be bored at. Winter also, unfortunatly, means an increase in the need for Emergency Response Vehicles. You'll be able to identify these life-saving vehicles by the assortment of lights and sirens they utilize to capture your attention. A very loud large red truck full of firemen, with a ladder on top is one of these ERV's. A very loudly idling large red truck with brush guards and a middle-aged man trying to light his stogie is not. Now that you've identified such a critically important co-traveller, can you kindly GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY? I understand you are in a hurry to get to your destination, but unless you are on your way to single-handedly save the life of another human being who may very well expire if you do not arrive in the most timely manner, THIS MEANS YOU. Just move to the side, just for a moment. On behalf of heart-attack victims, blazing buildings, and bank managers being held at gunpoint everywhere, thank you.

The Good, The Bad, and The June. ;)

A big old fashioned shout-out to my fellow June 2007 mommas! We've built up quite the community since our BFP's, and I just want you all to know how much I value each and every one of you. (Well, not ONE of you, but we're getting to that.) I love that I have somewhere to go where everyone there understands exactly where I am coming from. You've offered up some much-appreciated advice, given me an ear to vent to, and made me feel like a valued part of a greater whole. This June Momma lubs you much. :)

That's the good. The bad news is that it has recently been brought to my attention that we have a bad seed among us. I know there has been theories bandied about of late about hypothetical posters who are lurking for the wrong reasons. Though that may or may not be true, I'm afraid that in reality, our board does have a very real troll. I recieved a comment on my own humble blog from an unidentified blogger who has quite obviously spent many hours among us. This blogger then went on to create a blog of their own, dedicated to "holding nothing back". Indeed, she doesn't seem to! Quite a few of our nearest and dearest were forever immortalized in less-than-stellar "poetry", yours truly included! (Actually, I should mention that I was immortalized "first". If my oh-so-disenchanted fan is reading, to what do I owe this honor?) The mommyblogger, who hides behind the simple pseudonom "bs" (indeed) includes an ode to our board as a whole. As you can see in my column "Get To Know My Friends!", I like to link to blogs written by all of you! However, in this instance I've made an exception. June mommas are welcome to "click me" from our board, and I will be more than happy to supply you with the link. Try to get past the poor grammar (even WITH poetic liscence, basic sentence structure and appropriate use of words is so SO important. Please, blogger, if you don't know what it means - look it up. is a wonderful resource.) and the open hostility that all but oozes from each post, and check it out.

I know my fellow BBC'ers will prevail over this troll as we have every other. We pride ourselves in being one of the most tame, easy-going boards of all! Just check out the IL board or the BH board if you don't believe me. ;) Let's not let one petty person with more time than creativity colour our friendships, commaradarie, and community.

As for "bs", maybe next time you slink back to your bridge you jump off it instead of crawling under it, k?

Sunday, 3 February 2008

This is what happens when you have a clean house.

Serves me right. I went to bed with a clean house. As anyone who's ever had small children can attest, these creatures despise order and cleanliness. On an ordinary morning, I would have stacks of dishes on every available surface in my kitchen. However, on THIS morning, the kitchen was spotless. Which means that Lillian, bless her stick legs and helpful heart, had plenty of room to wander along the countertops wreaking havoc - er, "making breakfast" - at every available opportunity. You know that ridiculously high cupboard that only the freakishly tall can reach without a ladder? That's where we keep the cereal. Apparently we now keep it loose and all over the dining room floor. Moving along to the next cupboard, we find 6 empty kool-aid packets of varying colours, missing both a small strip of paper at the top and all of their rainbow-hued contents. In the land of 5- and 6-year olds, kool-aid mix is best kept in the teapot. This is also the ideal vessel for holding prepared kool-aid. And by prepared, I mean a teapot full of water, 6 packets of kool-aid, and equal parts garlic salt. Mmmmm. Doubles as Drain-O. As for the bran-flakes berber, the small mobile one has mastered the army crawl, and by my estimation should be quite "regular" until he's 25. Next stop: 9am.

9:20am. Lillian is successfully off to school, and due to the fact that we're now completely out of cereal, Rachel, Finn, and I went to Tim Hortons for breakfast. Rachel likes their muffins, I like to get out of the house, and Finnigan likes the lady who makes the bagels. So there we are, I'm totally zoning out on carbohydrates and caffeine, Rachel is regaling me with tales out of kindergarten (which sound remarkably like last-night's episode of The Simpsons... Hmmm...) and Finnigan is mowing down on the biggest oatmeal cookie ol' Timmy-boy has ever produced - which he always manages to snag for free. (He's got that bagel-girl wrapped so tight around his pudgy little pinchers!) Anyway, this wrinkly old no-hair gets right up close to us all and starts telling me what a lovely little girl Finnigan is. *Smacks forehead*. Let's see, blue blanket? Check. Blue snowsuit? Check. Blue hat, blue toy, blue bottle? Well, you get the picture. I was smiling and nodding vacantly as per usual. Enter Rachel. *~Insert huge, defeated sigh here.~* She pins him with that oh-so-"Rachel" look (you know the one: one hand on hip, eyebrows up into her hairline, nose in the air.) and says, in a voice one would only expect to hear in a cartoon, at a volume more suited to the Indy 500, "He's not a GIRL, he's my BROTHER. HE HAS A PENIS, I even SAW it." *Repeat sigh, add closed eyes.* To normal people, this would be embarrassing. To me, this is simply Rachel. Opinionated - and blatant - little beast.

Lunch Time: Rachel has decided that she wants tea and toast for lunch. Will that be all, governess? You should know that she went to school today wearing a pink shirt, pink skirt, red sweater... and brown floral tights. 'Atta girl.

I was cleaning out the bathroom today and I had a definite "light-bulb moment". I was going through all my makeup, and it occured to me that maybe if I let the girls play with some of my makeup, then my "good" makeup would not be snuck into dark corners and be used to decorate any available surface. Hey, I never said it was a bright light-bulb moment. I gathered up all my expired lipsticks, foundations, mascaras, blushes, and some metallic purple eyeshadow that I do NOT remember buying, and put it in a box. I pulled out the roll of kraft paper, covered the table, and put the box in the middle. Then I went and picked up my hurricaines, er, children.

Setting: Your average dining room.
Players: One 5-yo girl, one 6-yo girl.
Props: The most indelible forms of pigment known to man, in varying shades of dark.
Alternate Title: 101 Ways to Induce High Blood Pressure.
Subplot: Mother (off stage) has an aneurysm.
Scene: Disaster ensued. What was I thinking?!? Did you know that in the minds of little children, foundation makes GREAT fingerpaint? I thought it could be used sparingly to create skin tones. I forgot that "sparingly" does not exist for anyone under 22, except as it applies to restraint. The first length of paper will forever be remembered as looking like a giant skin graft. That got balled up and discarded.
Let's try this again. This time, MINUS any and all liquid forms of makeup. Take two actually turned out pretty good. Just in case you need a little artistic deciphering, this is "Princesses Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Mrs. Veen's Beautiful Castle". Makes sense now, right?

My little "Artists":



I have a broken toilet,
It just won't flush that poo.
So every time you "go" in it,
It just turns into stew.

I have a broken toilet
I don't know how to fix.
But it's my ONLY toilet,
So I'll pee into the mix.
A bad thing for a girl.
I can't go pee outside on tree,
But if I pee in IT I'll HURL.
(I'll be calling a plumber tomorrow. Morning.)


Pictures from today:
This is Lillian trying to feed Finnigan his pureed peas. LOVE the open mouth, Lol! As you can see, this is reflexive - we all do it. :)

Mmmm, pureed peas.

Finnigan loves strings. Imagine his delight when I gave him strings he could EAT!

I call this one, "Finnigan Testing the Effects of Gravity on Melamine Bowls".

I call this one, "Finnigan Testing the Effects of Gravity on Spaggettini Noodles". Yup, gravity works. On both sides of ones booster seat.
Judging by the amount of water on the bathroom floor after the girls' bath tonight, they think I LIKE mopping floors. Although, I suppose it should be done tonight after my minor disagreement with the above-mentioned toilet. Flushy McFlusherson decided he does not want to accept any new material. My plunger and I begged to differ. A rather sloppy and slippery battle erupted, and in the end we compromised. What was in went down, but nothing more. Let this be a lesson to everyone: Be kind to your neighbours, you never know when you'll have to shit in their house.
Tomorrow is another blog - er, day. Peace has been restored to this blogger's domain, three sets of eyes have closed, three pairs of hands are at rest. Three stack of dishes await me in the kitchen, three loads of laundry need to be folded, three hours since my brain shut down for the night, and only three more cupcakes left. And a partridge in a wilted, indoor pear tree.
Blog night. :)

Sunday Confessions

Today is Sunday. I've decided to dedicate Sundays to confessing things about my universe that need saying. Don't expect a coherent pattern to any of it, it's just my way to declutter my mind and concience. :)

  • I confess I have a laundry pile that very closely resembles one of the Alps. Sometimes, late at night, I hear faint yodeling...
  • I confess my mother was the one who sorted said laundry pile. Thanks mom. :)
  • I confess that at 2:04pm, Finnigan is still in (half) his pajamas, sitting in his bumbo eating a cookie.
  • I confess that Banana Arrowroot does not come out of anything. Ever.
  • I confess that although I know nobody yet knows about this blog, and that this is only my second post, I'm still a little bit dissapointed that I've received no comments. I feel so in-sig-nificant. *Edit: Thank you for my FIRST comment Malisa! Mucho Hugs! :)
  • I confess that my two daughters drive me absolutely bat-shit crazy, but I can't imagine life without them.
  • I confess my blog just became pg-13 due to my last confession. ;)
  • I confess I hide sweets from my daughters and husband, otherwise I don't get any.
  • I confess that the next person who tells me I have a shopping problem isn't getting anything EVER from me that costs more than a hug.
  • I confess I fold laundry two loads at a time because it seems like less that way.
  • I confess that the one-way feud between my husband and the news lady on A-Channel makes me giggle.
  • I confess I really couldn't care less about the Superbowl if I TRIED. However, I've heard that Superbowl Sunday is one of the biggest days of the year for organ transplants, both coming and going. I guess that's something.

*This post has been edited. Repeatedly.

Losing my Blogger-ginity

I gall-darn gone and done it. I got a blog. Because, what else would one do at 1:49am on a Sunday? Having never blogged before, I'm winging it - so bear with me. (Not you, 'Tu Bar.)

I started this blog because:
  • A.) It is now 1:53am and I can't sleep.
  • B.) I can't sleep because I wanted to know if this blog name was already taken.
  • C.) Once you start blogging, it's hard to stop.
  • D.) I'm tired of family/friends/coworkers/that weird guy at Tim Hortons asking me "What's new with you?". Now I can just tell them all to go blog themselves! (Kidding... Mostly)
  • E.) I once read a blog where the blogger listed 100 things about them, and ever since I've wondered if I knew a hundred things about me.
  • F.) I'm on the computer all the time anyway, I might as well be doing something productive.
  • G.) I'm the mommy - that's why.

So there you have it. No longer shall I live a meaningless, blog-free lifestyle. I am mommy, hear me type. I officially exist in cyberspace.