Tuesday, 30 September 2008


A four-bedroom unit is coming available in my Complex. My name is next on the wait list for a four-bedroom unit. My rent would not go up.

Ain't that always the way.

Monday, 29 September 2008

Virtual Tour - the fun continues!

Dining Room: Not much to say about this! Pretty basic! Yes, that's a dishwasher in my dining room, you'll remember from our kitchen tour that there's no where else to put the damn thing, lol. So we've got that, some art, a china display cabinet, an antique desk with a chalkboard hanging above it... That's it, that's all.
Just out of camera range on the left is this little spot. The top of a bookshelf that holds the girls' art supplies. I just think the plant on the wall is cool, lol. Lily made me that pot for Mother's Day when she was in kindergarten.
(The picture is of a young Rachel in Singapore.)
The pumpkin candle holder you see is the extent of my fall decorating.

All aboard the Virtual Tour bus!

Welcome aboard, virtual tourists! On today's tour, we will be visiting my KITCHEN! Now, I can tell you're all excited, but please keep your arms and legs safely inside the Virtual Tour bus at all times. Be sure to stow all baggage and small children in the overhead compartments, and refrain from eating or drinking anything non-alcoholic. Pull out your sketch pads everyone, because there will be no flash photography permitted. Thank you, and enjoy your tour!

As we approach the kitchen, we get our first glimpse through the doorway. Take note of this doorway, because it will be your only means of escape should we crash or I start cooking.

To your left, you will see some counter. This corner was made famous for it's appearance in the last post, "Bread. At least I think that's what it's supposed to be." Note the lovely foliage, complete with elusive pink iPod mini, and oooh! Princess calendar!
Next up is the sink area. The sink area comes complete with hanging ramekins, decorative plates, and blue-glass cat-shaped dish soap holder:

(You will note that I am more than a little OCD about the inside of my cupboards.)

Approaching the far end of the kitchen, you will see the cat-theme continue (which I just noticed) with the kitty paper towel holder! The dishes were from tonight's dinner and bread-baking festivities because well, I'm real like that.
Ah, the Far Wall. A storage wall of sorts, with pegs for lunch kits and other kitchen-related paraphernalia. The little plaque on the end says "Ask about our free cup of coffee!" though I don't recommend doing so. The last guy who did is still in the hospital.
Rounding the corner for our return trip, we see the toaster oven! This was a gift from an ex-boyfriend, and outlasted the relationship by A LOT. It now supports various tea things, and supports my pastry/cutting boards. Fascinating. An interesting factoid is that the drawers below are the only drawers found in the entire kitchen. I mean, besides the ones we're wearing. Most of us, anyway. ;)
Up above the toaster oven is the Spice Cupboard. It's anal-retentive organization is blindingly apparent.
Beside the toaster oven is the standard oven with stove. Canisters on the back contain, in order, Tea, Sugar, and Coffee. A bread warmer hangs above, awaiting fresh rolls! (Hey Del, that teapot is full of fresh "Lacey Tea"!)

Moving on, we have come too the space between stove and fridge. This is where the microwave lives! (I know you've sensed a theme... All my appliances are on ONE SIDE. Food and cookers on one side, smaller machines and dishes on the other. Anal retentive, I told ya so.) Look, you can see the bread! The stuff that looks like poo!

Finally, we reach the refrigerator. This last stop on our virtual tour is dull, so I took the picture at an angle to spice things up. (Get it? Spice? Kitchen? LOL!)

Thank you for touring with us today! Coffee and refreshments will be served by you at your own house. If you've purchased the extended tour, please remain seated. We will be departing for the Dining Room as soon as the cheapskates who only paid for this leg of the trip get off.

Sunday, 28 September 2008

Bread. At least I think that's what it's supposed to be...

I found a recipe on a blog I luuuuurrve - Itty Bitty Bistro

Well, it used to be a blog. I think it's a real live website now. I digress...

I attempted to make their "Boston Brown Bread" and I'm pretty sure I failed.

Lemme show you:

I assembled my fixin's.

(And yes, I always "arrange" them like that. Honest.)

Combine dry, combine wet:

Combine dry with wet:

Put in cans for steaming, add water, cover:


Remove from pot, uncover:

Remove from cans. Please not that said removal was more than a little tricky because my can opener staunchly refused to open the wrong end of a can. It's all the can opener's fault!

See? I did it wrong. It's not bread. It's not pretty. It smells like bran muffins, which could be a good thing.

I'll make the kids eat it. Even if it does resemble poo. ;)

Saturday, 27 September 2008

That's three - so that's it, right?

First, Lily was sick and throwing up.
Then, she started having really vivid dreams about her sister scattering food on her bed and that food turning into bugs which were then biting her. This caused her to FREAK. OUT. and took me a good half hour (at 3am) to calm her down and convince her Rachel was asleep, her bed was clean, and there were no bugs.
NOW, she rolled over, bashed her face off her bunk rail, and gave herself a nosebleed.

Sigh. Bad things come in three's - so this is it, right?

Somebody tell me what to do

You all know how I was laid off in August. :( Well, I haven't gotten another job, and I'm pretty much totally and completely out of money. I can't afford to live here anymore. It's time to move to the Island.

I have no money to move.

The thought of packing for a move by myself with three kids is making me want to go to bed for a very very long time.

I'm stuck. I don't know what to do. Somebody tell me what to do.


Boys are gross

Finn was being a little too quiet playing in his room, so I went in to check on him. He'd gotten ito his diaper pail and was stuffing the turds he found into a sock.

Boys are gross. So, so gross.

This is what happens when you're bored and you own a curling iron:

So, whaddya think?

Friday, 26 September 2008


Telling people where to go so nicely that they actually look forward to the trip.

I have a theory

I have a theory. (No, not a dream, that's been done.) It's a theory about customer service.

Let me start from the beginning.

I had a teacher once who wrote his Master's thesis on... Thesis writing. I shit you not. He won awards for it. It's genius. This was fascinating to me, the English geek. If I learned anything in school, it was how to write a killer thesis.

I apply my stellar thesis-writing skills to all of my structured writing.

Maybe I should teach you all how to write really good thesis..es? Thesii? Thesis'? Anyway...

Let's write a thesis on bumblebees. Your point is going to be that bees are important. With me so far?

Paragraph 1: State your point.
  • Bees are important. (Stay away from using the terms "I think", "I feel", "I want to prove". Your point is not personal, it is universal. Full stop.

Paragraph 2: Clarify.

  • Bees are important because they pollinate flowers, and to a lesser extent because they give us honey.

Paragraph 3, the body: Explain and support.

  • In gathering nectar to make honey, bees come into contact with the pollen in flowers. This pollen rubs off onto the bees hairy legs and is transferred to other flowers the bee comes into contact with during his pursuit for above-mentioned nectar. This is important because it fertilizes the flowers and allows them to propagate and continue the species. Without this natural pollination, the flowers would die off, as there is not any viable alternatives to bee-pollination that would work on such a large, world-wide scale.
  • Then they make honey which is actually for baby bees but we eat it anyway. It's an excellent and healthful replacement for sugars and high fructose corn syrup in the human diet.

Paragraph 4: Tie up loose ends.

  • If bees die, flowers die. Fruit doesn't grow, vegetables don't grow, food resources die off, people die off.

Paragraph 5: Conclusion. This is the same as your original point, which if you've written a well thought-out and convincing thesis, your reader should now agree with.

  • Bees are important. (Never use the phrase "In conclusion". It's not good. You should be writing so that people forget they are reading, and instead get involved in what you are saying.)

End teaching session. With me so far? Good.

Now as for how thesis writing applies to real life:

I cloth diaper. I use BumGenius diapers exclusively. I love them, but lately they have begun to to malfunction. The elastics in the leg holes have lost all their snap, causing them to leak out the sides and become, for all intents and purposes, unusable.

So I wrote a very nice letter to the BumGenius (CottonBabies) corporation, in award-winning thesis form.

Paragraph 1: My point.

  • I use BG diapers, and they are malfunctioning due to product defect.

Paragraph 2: Clarify.

  • I use your product exclusively, follow all your enclosed directions to the letter, and my diapers are failing well before they should be. They have lost all elasticity, and as such are no longer usable.

Paragraph 3, the body: Explain and support

  • My son is 15 months old, I bought diapers back on such-and-such date(s), from such-and-such company. It was my understanding that these diapers would last the entire length of time my son would be in diapers, and that fact was one of my deciding factors in choosing your product.
  • Having followed all care instructions as listed on the enclosed pamphlets that came with the diapers, as listed on the diapers themselves, and as listed on your own website, I am disappointed that the diapers have not held up as well as I was led to believe by your company in paragraph blahblahblah of your website. (Cut and paste paragraph)

Paragraph 4: Tie up loose ends.

  • I love your product, aside from this issue. I love x and xy and xyz about it, specifically.
  • I do not want to have to go to a different company. *HINT*
  • I do not want to have to re-purchase these diapers when there is a reasonable expectation that this would happen again, as it is a tremendous expense and one of the reasons I chose your product was that I would never have to purchase another diaper for this child. *HINT*
  • I have recommended your product to many people and have converted numerous parents from disposable diapering to cloth diapering solely on the strength of your diaper. *HINT*
  • I'm a member of several Internet forums where the discussion of your product would be a natural and recurrent theme. So far, I've had nothing disparaging to say. *HINT*

Paragraph 5: Conclusion.

  • Your product FAILED.


The Mommy.

Good, right? I sent it late last night. I woke up this morning to not only a letter from corporate head office in the States, but to a letter from the head of Canadian Distributing. They asked a few more questions, which I answered, and they both made reference to replacing my diapers.

I'm just. that. good.

My theory? Articulate people get what they want because they're harder to argue with. Be articulate. Get what you want.

I pretty much always get what I want. Now you can too!

Thursday, 25 September 2008

Now why am I not surprised?

Just looking through my StatCounter dealie. Someone found my blog by googling "Humans raising wild animals".

Yep. That's me in a nutshell.

It's not cancer

The theme this week at the girl's school is Terry Fox, in honour of his walk across Canada to raise awareness for cancer. Commendable, to be sure, but it has turned my children into hypochondriacs. They both know the story of how I cracked my skull open when I was a child. They're convinced it was because of cancer (which it wasn't). Lily asked me today if when I was a kid my head split open because the cancer grew to big for my skull. I explained to them, again, that it wasn't cancer. I was going down a slide, and another little girl was walking up a slide, and we knocked noggins. (Please people, slides are for going down. Be responsible!)

Lily: My head hurts. Do I have cancer?
Mommy: You don't have cancer. You have a headache because you have the flu.
Rachel: Mommy, I cut my finger. Am I gonna catch cancer?
M: Cancer is not contagious, Rachel. But clean it anyway.
L: Terry Fox had cancer and his leg fell off.
R: Yes, it fell right off.
M: His leg didn't fall off. It was removed. Because of the cancer.
R: Did he catch cancer from a cut? (still looking at her finger.)
M: Cancer is not contagious. So no.
L: But what if it was contagious?
R: Then would we get it from cuts?
L: My head still hurts.
M: Mine too.
L: Do you have cancer?
R: 'Cuz cancer would make your head hurt you know.
M: It's not cancer. And you're not a doctor.
L: But cancer hurts, right? Because my tummy hurts.
M: You don't have cancer. You have the flu.
R: I think I had cancer once.
M: You've never had cancer. Cancer is serious.
R: But I had a tummyache.
M: A tummyache could just mean you ate too much candy.
L: She did mama, I saw her.
R: No I didn't! When?
And thus it continued all day. All I could think about, the entire time, was that scene in Kindergarten cop where Shwartza-whatzizname said "It's not a tu-mah".

When even thongs have too much material...

TOTALLY stolen from Ashley. (The site link, not the panties.)

Do not open in front of children or child-like husbands. And no, honey, I will not wear this. Don't even ask.

C-String - clip on underwear!

More ta-ta's

Again, not bewbies. Ta-ta as in gimme whatchu got 'fore I beatchu, Finn.

What I asked for: The carton of milk. What I got: His hockey stick.
What I asked for: The puzzle pieces. What I got: A secret cookie from under the couch.
What I asked for: Rachel's Home Reading book. What I got: One of it's pages.
What I asked for: Citrus reamer. What I got: Ice cream scoop.
What I asked for: Bag of baby carrots. What I got: A pre-chewed carrot he decided he didn't like after all.

School meet-n-meat

Side note - Isn't that the most pathetic looking hamburger you've ever seen? It was burnt beyond all recogniton, too.

F-I-N-N-I-G-A-N spells Finnigan!


Baby Jail:
(Please excuse the mashed banana on his jammies)

Wednesday, 24 September 2008


Numismatics are Lillian's newest passion. (Numismatics being the collection and study of coins, naturally.) She is obsessed with the concept of taxation, too. I'm constantly counting her coins, and trying to answer her questions as to how much tax that equates to, and how many dollars she could afford to pay the tax on (theoretical dollars, she's counting all her money as tax). This is not my area of expertise. This requires math. The only part of math I'm good at is spelling it. Her daddy could tell her. I ought to have her call him with all her questions.

She's got quite the system for coin collection, too. She spends her dollars and saves her small change. The girl needs a wallet and a purse, she's got envelopes everywhere full of nickles and dimes and pennies. She's got them all earmarked for things though. One envelope is for Nana and Granddads Christmas present, one is for the dollar store, one is for a chocolate bar...

Naturally, when Rachel finds the envelopes, they become Rachel's envelopes. Perhaps what Lily really needs is a Rachel-proof box. To put Rachel in. And then a safe for her money.

Rachel just spends every cent she has. She's got no concept of money. If something is $1.16 and she has a toonie, she'll just hand it over and leave. Lily capitalizes on this and accepts the change on her behalf. As in, Lily be "half"ing it.

Finn still just wants to eat his money.

Really? No, REALLY??!?


PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) wrote a letter to the ice cream guru's over at Ben & Jerry's asking them to substitute the cow's milk in their dairy products for human breast milk.

Wait, what?

Most women don't even breastfeed their babies, let alone nursing the general public. Not to mention the fact that every ounce you put in ice cream is an ounce taken away from a child. I understand the cow's-milk-is-for-baby-cows arguments, but last I checked we humans were slightly higher on the food chain.

To even suggest this is ridiculous to the point of stupidity. Instead of lobbying for harsher regulations for the treatment of dairy cows, THIS is what PETA suggests?? This letter was designed not as a plausible solution (to something that the vast majority of people don't even see as a problem), but to create sensationalism in the media. What it actually achieved, however, is to make the PETA organization as a whole look like cow-hugging fools who more than likely rode the short bus to school.

Reality Check #1: Cow's don't understand the concept of freedom/slavery. That's why a cow who has no fences will remain the same distance from the barn as a cow with fences. Cows understand pain, and in fact will lead themselves to milking stations to relieve over-full udders. (As a former nursing mother, I "udder"stand.) PETA will argue that taking calves away from their mothers causes stress for mom and baby alike, but the reality is that all cows (nay, all mammals) wean eventually - the only difference being that after Bessie Jr. is weaned, mama cow is kept lactating through artificial - milk farming - means.

Reality Check #2: Cows are dumb. Really, really dumb. They've been bred for generations to be dumb. Dumb cows are easy to control. If cows are no longer required for dairy/meat, they WILL die off. Because PETA is not only against raising animals for food but also against keeping animals as pets, it's safe to deduce that the only place they want cows to be is in the wild. Cows are not smart enough to survive in the wild - because they are bred to be dumb - thus, they will become extinct. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals becomes People for Extinction Totalus of Animals. That seems better. Oh wait, no it doesn't.

Reality Check #3: Mammals cannot produce milk without first being pregnant, and even then only for a period of about 1 year afterwards (At which point milk from even the most prolific producer changes vastly in terms of nutritional/sugar/fat content). Daily volume of breast milk from a lactating woman equals approximately 600ml, or 58 gallons per year, providing they exclusively breastfeed and have no supply issues. Children born per year in the entire world = 140 million- therefore total human breast milk production of the entire world - assuming all mothers were to exclusively breastfeed all children born = 8120 million gallons/ year, or 31 million tonnes/year. Annual dairy milk production of some countries: Germany 28 million tonnes, Russia 33 million tonnes, US 67 million tonnes, India 96 million tonnes. So, if we force every mother in the world not to breastfeed their children, somehow collect all of this milk including all milk from all mothers in places with no refrigeration, we will have just enough milk for the Germans, and still have no milk for the rest of the world OR all the babies that induced their mother's lactation in the first place. Perhaps PETA would suggest keeping all women of childbearing age pregnant every year and farm them just like cows? It still wouldn't be enough to keep the US supplied with milk, but hey, we don't care about people - we care about cows!

Reality Check #4: Cows play an integral part in the world economy. No cows = millions of lost jobs = losses of BILLIONS of dollars. Not just in milk/meat sales, but in the farming and production, and harvesting, and transporting, and storage, and packaging, and selling... Plus all the people who make the equipment to harvest the milk, barn makers, cow-food makers, transport vehicle production, storage facility construction including materials producers, am I getting through to anyone yet? It's not just MILK, it's a whole INDUSTRY. An industry that employs millions of people all over the world, who's taxes pay for welfare, and schools, and health care.

Reality Check #5: There is NO all-around replacement for cow's milk. We can replace it in certain areas with certain things such as soy (which can rather drastically affect estrogen levels, and in high levels can actually lead to impotence in humans) or "juice" from various nuts and seeds. However, these all react differently in the presence of other chemical compounds found in other foods, or when heated as in cooking. Let me repeat: There is NO be-all-end-all replacement for cow's milk. Milk from other mammals would, in theory, however it is impossible to produce the sheer volume necessary for world demand. Unless of course we swap out another large land mammal for the cow, in which case we're right back where we started from. Never mind the amount of additional resources that would be required to farm enough of the alternatives to keep up with the demand for milk replacement. Just the amount of land required far surpasses the acreage required for the cows required to produce a comparable amount of milk.

Sheesh. PETA has gone from a respectable organization to a bunch of extremist Eco-terrorists alarmingly quickly

Note to PETA: People will not follow those we don't respect. We're not cows.

Decide for yourselves:
www.peta.org vs. www.petakillsanimals.com


Caution: Do not open while eating. Do not open if you have OCD. It's really best you don't open it at all. However, if you currently have a mess or two (or a lot) that you're looking for motivation to get off your butt and attackle (what, it's a word. Lily says it all the time.) then open while peeking out from between your fingers. Doubles as a diet plan, because you will never eat again.


Yeah. Gross. I've been cleaning ALL. DAY. I feel like it's on me. Is it on me?!? I've cleaned and sanitized everything that stands still (and some things that don't) and scrubbed my fingers to the bone. It's now 1:00am and I'm actually contemplating mopping the floors... *Shudder*

Perspective: I've lost it.

There's no NEW way to say this

Remember oh, 200 posts ago when I told you about my toilet that doesn't flush. Yeah. It's not flushing again.

There's gotta be a bowling ball or something down there.

I think I'll just move.

Sick Stick

Silly stick's a sick stick,
Scorching, searing, slick stick.
Sad and snotty sweaty stick
Lily's got the flu.

Rotten Ray-ro razzes her,
Rattles and re-rankles her.
Ribs and rubs and rags on her,
Rachel is a pest.

Finny-Finn's a fine Finn,
Funny, flirty, Finnigan,
Finn is feelin' fine.

Those Who Shall Not Be Named

The ones who live in children's hair. SHHH! DON'T SAY IT! Just an update: Both girls have passed their hair checks at school. We're commited to our hair routine, and knock on wood, it's working. Dare I say it... We're clear.

*Waits for lightning bolt*

Rachel, however, managed to somehow glue her hair to her back at school. This, I can live with.

Monday, 22 September 2008

I'd like to thank the academy...

My first blog award! And just when I needed it most. :)

Bridget over at Mama Belly Blog has cured my case of the sadz. She likes me! She really likes me! *Sniff*

Now, the rules, that I copied at pasted pretty much ver batim from Bridget. ;)

* Pass it on to any bloggers that you feel are "Kick Ass Bloggers"* Let 'em know in your post or via email, twitter or blog comments that they've received an award* Share the love and link back to both the person who awarded you and back to Mammadawg, the inventor of this award.* Hop on back to the Kick Ass Blogger Club HQ to sign Mr. Linky then pass it on!

So many deserving peeps, so little time... I think I'll bestow this honor on Dawn, the reigning coupon-queen of the western world. How she gets some of the deals she does is beyond me. Check her out for budget inspiration, and drool over her beautiful baby girl! (Back off boys, she's Finn's.) Dawn, you're my shopping hero.

My heart is in my shoes

Finn is ours. Kevin is going to relinquish his rights and release Finn so Andrew can adopt him.

There are no words to express how I'm feeling.

He's ours.

All ours.

No two homes, no two families, no school year here and summers there, no restrictions, no messy legalities, no more sharing the baby boy.

Praise the Lord, and thank dear sweet baby Jesus. I need to lay down.

(For those wondering, we have every intention of raising Finnigan to know he has a father AND a daddy. It would be stupid not to, both medically and psychologically. Finnigan will know of Kevin, but having Kevin in his life is not what he needs and would do more harm than good. Please respect this decision, as very few people know the whole story and those that do have all been involved in making this momentus, life-changing choice.)

Notes to self:

Self, please remember the following:
  • You need a new butter dish. Somehow you managed to crack yours.
  • You also need a new potato masher. You broke that too.
  • You need TOILET PAPER!!! Still!!! The tissues are clogging up the whole complex!
  • Two girls + new bubble bath = Clean bathroom floor.
  • Nothing gets green sharpie off a white fridge. Yet.
  • Children will eat any orange vegetable, as long as you call it "carrots".
  • The baby will not eat bananas when you first give them to him. He will instead mash them into all the crevices of his highchair and save them for later. Later he will eat them. When they're good and black.
  • You really need to deal with that black spot on the beige carpet that the raw egg left. You may have to use enough chemicals to burn a hole clear through to China, but deal with it already. It's yucky.
  • Lay off the snickerdoodles already. Even your fingers are getting fat.

Self, that is all.

Saturday, 20 September 2008


Today was a bad day. I woke up with a massive headache, and it all went downhill from there. The girls got up and got into their art supplies. My new(old) wooden dining room table now has permanent-marker "art" all up one side. That'll need refinishing. My tablecloth was glued to the table. No, I'm not kidding. The baby decided he wanted in on this "art" and chose my least-favorite medium - poo. Apparently I'd missed a turd when I was emptying his diapers before washing them. If there is a bright side, it's that he's short and we have wood floors. I found the remainder of the rogue turd with my foot. Score.
  • There's sugar on the kitchen floor.
  • There's spilled juice in the fridge.
  • The girls somehow smashed their lightbulb in their room, so there's shards of that on the floor at the end of their beds.
  • The baby has toys strewn all around his room, and piles of clothes that I'd had packed up because he grew out of them.
  • The diapers are still dirty.
  • The dishes aren't done.

They cleaned up their room, but only because I was standing there with a wooden spoon, barking orders like some demented drill sergeant. When that was finally done, THEN they smashed their lightbulb. I don't know how that happened.

It took them an hour to clean up their "art". There was a LOT of little bits of paper, a LOT of random marker lids, and a LOT of globby glue. I have yet to find any actual, completed art.

THEY WHINED. FROM SUN UP, TO 2300hrs. I seperated them. I made them work as a team. I pitted them against eachother. I tried to bribe them. I tried to pay them. I yelled. I screamed. I threatened spankings. I had a complete meltdown, and smashed a plate they were supposed to be cleaning, because they WOULD. NOT. STOP. with the she-did-she-said-but-her-fault-no-I-didn't-HER-fault-OH-MY-GOD-SHUT-UP. So I lost it. I smashed the plate I was holding as hard as I could and it SHATTERED. It was corelle ware, too. They shatter REALLY well. It shattered EVERYWHERE.


Then I looked at them, and said through clenched teeth, "Are. You. Finished?"

Two little bug-eyed bobble-heads nodded.

Mommy: "Good. Because the next thing I smash like that is going to be YOU."

They cleaned.

They swept.

They restored order to their disaster areas.

They went straight to bed.

Mama needs wine.

Migraine log, day 16,878,135,794,212,348

I get headaches. The bad kind. I've had one for about five days now. It sucks.

Symptoms: Sore head (duh), muscle weakness, sensitivity to light and sound, nausea, I see halos, my depth perception goes all wonky... Ugh.

I'm fairly heavily medicated. Tylenol, codeine (which I'm highly sensitive to, T3's knock me completely out cold), Sumatriptan, Alieve (I big-fat-puffy-heart you, Dawn!), the list goes on.

I top it all off with heavy doses of caffiene.

Then I sleep.

The next day brings the dreaded Headache Hangover. This is a lot like recovering from the flu. You feel like absolute shit. I'd rather recover from childbirth. When I have a migraine, I want to cut open my head and scoop out my own brain.

Anyway, that's where I've been.

I'd rather be blogging.

Eggsperiments with mommy's blood pressure

(Note: I'm posting this for posterity, as it happened before I started the blog but I think it's a story that bears telling. I just posted it in commiseration with a poster on my baby boards, and well, someone liked it. So here it is.)


Eggs were my cross to bear.

Three dozen eggs smashed into the carpets of TWO ROOMS, with shells scattered clear from the kitchen to the OTHER END OF THE HOUSE.

All was quiet in The Mommy's household. Children were happily Barbie-ing in their room, baby was nestled snugly in mommy's womb, and I had to pee. So I did. When I got out, not three minutes later, I heard it. Crunch. I though I'd stepped on a beetle. I wish I'd stepped on a beetle. It was an eggshell. How odd for an eggshell to be at the door to the bathroom. And in front of the washing machine. And another in front of my bedroom door. And another, and another, and... OH. NO.

An open fridge door. Three egg cartons, open and empty on the floor in front of it. Eggshells. Everywhere.

No children.

No sound.


Bedroom one: mine. Clear.

Bedroom two: Rachel's. Clear.

Bedroom three: Lillians.


There were raw eggs EVERYWHERE. On toys. On clothes. On beds. In drawers. In doll beds. On tables. On the curtains. On both children. Big, gelatinous globs from the doorway through to kingdom come. I couldn't talk. I couldn't scream. I couldn't think of ANYTHING except for the fact that it was a bright sunny day, and if I didn't get this cleaned up soon I would have three dozen SCRAMBLED EGGS mashed into my LIFE. I went numb.

Honestly, I don't remember what happened next. I've blacked it out. I remember very calmly, very quietly putting them in Rachel's room and closing the door. I remember very calmly calling a friend and asking him to come watch them, because if I had to see their faces I would slit my own throat.

Then I cleaned.

God bless Bissel. I used my Little Green Machine to suck up all the egg-snot. I threw out EVERYTHING. The girls lost easily $1k of stuff that day. Later, I found an egg smeared into the carpet behind Rachel's door. It left a black mark that remains to this day.

I still can't see a raw egg without feeling a little panicky.

I'm pretty sure they're still grounded.

(Special thanks to Jenny for help with the title!)

Thursday, 18 September 2008

I'm such a follower...

Of blogs, that is. Send me your link, I need more!

Wednesday, 17 September 2008


Today Rachel started drama class. She is learning "AckTing".

Ahh Grasshopper, methinks the student will become the teacher.


This is my daughters ultimate insult. It's a cross between Mean + Maniac. You do NOT want to be called this.

I think it's genius.

Thursday, 11 September 2008

He's crying, I'm cracking up!

It was really REALLY hard to hold the camera steady while I was dying laughing.

Tuesday, 9 September 2008

A Career is Born

Holy crap he's fast

This is just before Finnigan decided to get up and walk everywhere. One, two, three, GONE!

First Day of School (Belated pics)

Guess we're not done yet...

Finn was in the bath tonight, and after I'd scrubbed him head to toe, he'd done his standard "swimming" (crawling with as much splash power as he can muster from one end of the tub to the other. Rinse, repeat.) I pulled the plug to drain the tub. I placed the plug in it's usual spot on the side of the tub. Finn took the plug, and put it back in the drain. This. Was. HYSTERICAL to him.

He's such a beast. :)

Monday, 8 September 2008

So, so gross

Disclaimer: Do not read this post if you have small children. Seriously, it's contagious. I caught it from Cristin.

I went to get Finn up from his nap today.

The smell hit me first.

He'd taken off his socks, pants, and diaper.

He'd poo'd.

He'd smeared it EVERYWHERE.

He dropped the remaining turds through the slats onto the floor, and then apparently PEEDLED on them.

He'd even covered his bottle with poo.

It was gross.

Luckily, I know how to handle this, because his sisters were MASTERS of the poo-portrait.

Baby wipes - not just for tushies.

It took two baths to return him to white again.

I'm calling BumGenius and suggesting a chastity diaper...

Be glad my camera is busted.

Closet of Gibralter NO MORE!!!

I donated the ten bags of clothes to Value Village. It took up my whole trunk, and most of my backseat. Finn almost had to ride on the roof.

I feel so. much. better.

I'm not even done yet.

Sunday, 7 September 2008


I currently have TEN GARBAGE BAGS of clothes to be donated.

Yes, 1-0.

Seriously, who has so many clothes that they have this many they can GET RID OF?!?

I'm just thinking about how many fewer loads of laundry I'll have to do, how much easier it will be to have it all neatly put away, and how much faster I'll be able to find something to wear in the morning...

I feel fantastic. :)

Creative Punishment

The girls woke Finn and I up this morning by SCREAMING to high heaven and beating the everloving snot out of eachother.

As punishment, they are now on hands and knees, scrubbing the hardwood floors.

I think that's fair.

Saturday, 6 September 2008

I have a Follower!

(As defined by blogger.com)

Anelys, I e-lurve you. ;)

Friday, 5 September 2008

Beware the Baby Kiss

We were at a party in the park the other day, and Finn leaned in to kiss his gramma. Just as her lips were about to meet his wide-open mouth (his standard "kiss") he puked. All down her chin, and party dress, right in front of everyone

It was really, REALLY funny.

And more than a little bit gross.


(However, it reminded me of the time Andrew took a just-been-breastfed baby Lillian, and played "airplane". She puked right in his mouth. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even help the poor guy. That's a lesson you don't need to be taught twice.)

Lillian Says:

Lillian: Mommy, can I please have some sourcream?

Mommy: Sure baby, it's in the fridge.

(For the record, we were eating tacos at the time, she doesn't just randomly ask for sourcream.)

L: You have to get it for me.

M: Why do I have to get it for YOU?

L: Because you're my slave.


Hrmph. Methinks a reality check is in her future...

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

You can't see me. :(

The Mommy's camera has gone to the great photo lab in the sky. Thus, until y'all start clicking on those ads over there ------>
and raising me some revenue, there will be no new pictures here.

It's a sad day in Mommyville.


It ain't bento'd, but it's beautiful

This is what I've packed my girls for their first day back at school. These things happen only when my kitchen is clean.

Lunch, day one:

  • Single-serving sized carton of white milk.
  • Bottle of water (in reusable waterbottle, thankyouverymuch).
  • Celery and carrot sticks.
  • "Champagne" (caviar) grapes.
  • Vanilla-yogurt dipped granola bar.
  • Sandwich: Ham and cheese on rye. One with tomato, one without.
  • Dessert: Baked apple with cinnamon and sugar.

Take THAT Martha.

Monday, 1 September 2008

Yearbook yourself

This is how I might look had I graduated in 1960.
Go to www.yearbookyourself.com and waste some time!