Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Fast Times in the ER (well not really....)

Early this morning my lovely 5.5 month old daughter looked at me and projectile vomited on me twice. While changing the sheets her majesty yakked again. By vomit #3 there was bile and I was frantically looking on the internet at webMD to determine how serious these events were. Serious for the clothes as I am sure bile stains - but more importantly were we off for our first ER visit?

While researching Ev yakked agin - very sad to see an infant throw up bile. Again and again and again. Trying to wade through the google hits was painful too - most of the articles that were found talked about vomiting in 5 month old dogs (dashuhounds seem to be especially prone - beware).

Finally decide to ditch the web search (somewhere between puke 5 & 6) and call the nurses line. I know what they are going to say even before the words leave their mouths. I have never called them and not had the same CYA response. You need to see a doctor within 12 hours or my personal favourite you need to go NOW.

So then the decision. My gut is saying BCCH because we have a history there and there is little chance of a drug addict walking into the waiting room asking for spare change. But it is 2:30am by this point and HWSNBN has voted for SMH. He toddles back to bed to wait for the call and I pack up the van with babe. Who has yakked again in her car seat.

The ER is surprisingly quiet. I thought that maybe with the stat some people would be tying one on. I was fully prepared to turn around and book to BCCH. We triaged and waited with 2 homeless people in the waiting room. One was passed out and the other commented how cute Ev was (she was sleeping). But the comment was followed by some high pitched preaching about God so all the warm fuzzies that I take from those compliments was washed away and replaced with a desire to sit as far away as possible.

Finally we are called back to the peds section of the ER. Admitted. Yakking ensues. More bile with time with foam. Nurse goes to tend to stupid 17 year old who doesn't want to sign consent to get her appendix taken out - even though she is becoming toxic. Almost removed her and signed the consent myself just to get closer to having a pediatricians attention. Stupid girl eventually concedes that she does not want to die in a cess pool of toxic shock and is wheeled away.

But then the nurse starts to comment that WADE the pediatrician has not been by her ward all shift (he didn't even come to see 'too stupid to live' again because he had seen her earlier in the day and she was now in the hands of the surgeon). So I slept in a chair with my head on Ev's crib mattress. For about 15 minutes before asthma baby started to wail. Again thought about removing him from his incompetent mother and placing with other care provider who would actually remember his nebulizer the next time they went to visit rellies with cats. Thankfully Ev slept for a few hours.

Mercifully WADE went off shift at 7am without showing his fizzog and Dr. Chung arrived and saved the day with some Gravol and a syringe of water. Nurse Courtney (no not my sister but another equally charming Courtney) administered first Gravol and syringed water. Babe slept. Took 3 ccs more of water without yakking. Sent home at 9am to sleep it off. Probably a stomach bug. Why couldn't WADE have taken the 10 minutes to to that at 4am??? If I ever find WADE I am going to make him scrub out bile stains from Ev's clothes until he cries.

So the morale of the story is - go to BCCH. Even if your kid only has an infected hangnail. Otherwise you could wait a whole shift for WADE to make an appearance. At least at BCCH you can wait in peace without hiding your purse and constantly worrying about the public toilet.

ACK! Now onto tackling the stains from last night.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Gymboree, I love you

I must confess to becoming an insane person when it comes to shopping for the Ev.

And really only one store rings my bell these days (an honorable mention to the Gap as I adore their denim jeans & can always find something for the little men). It is Gymboree. And the reason why I love them so much is multi layered.

I don't always like shopping in their stores. The one in Bellingham is a bit scungy and the two close to me in Metrotown & Oakridge aren't really close at all. But I hold my nose and go into the stores to spend my Gymbucks - even though you can't reasonably shop with a stroller in there. I usually find several great deals and even complete sets that I thought were sold out on the website.

But what really gets me hooked is the brilliant marketing strategy. The multiple lines of clothing. The discounts. The random flipping through Cookie magazine a few weeks ago was a jack pot as there was a coupon for 20% your total bill. So I bought 8 items from a line that I had been watching. It was already 60% off. So I got 80% off! Fabulous.

And just recently I went on the website again and got multiple items and had another coupon for 30% off my total bill. I am honestly all a twitter thinking of all the money I have saved and all the great deals. Even with the dollar doing a nose dive I still feel good about these purchases.

I shouldn't be surprised. I was out shopping for Everly 5 days after my c section. That is major surgery. And there I was popping Advils and asking if a certain dress came in a 0 - 3 month size. Crazy. Maybe I need a support group.... but only if they share their coupons....

Monday, November 3, 2008

Made In China

A few weeks ago the kids and I were watching a show about the human body. They were excited about all the mucus and poop and whatnot. And of course there was the obligatory discussion about private parts. Boys have penises and girls have vaginas. Only when asked the kids shouted out that girls had chinas. Despite repetition to the point of boredom the kids were still affected by the speech impediment. Whatever.

But last night when I was sorting out the kids candy they asked me what I was doing. I explained that I was making sure that they didn't get any treats made in China. Both boys looked at me with the strangest expressions. Finally Linden asks the obvious - Do chinas really make candy?

It took me a few seconds to see where he was coming from. And then a few more seconds before I could stop laughing.

The moral of the story is this - always make sure your kids can pronounce important words correctly. Otherwise they may grow up to think that chinas really are magical.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Ebay and other dying hobbies

Well the plunging dollar has left me bereft with grief. For over a year I was enthusiastically buying and trading item from the US. I bought a new stroller for Everly (1/2 of the canadian price with free shipping!), a trip to Disneyland (dollar was over 1.10 us!), one black friday shopping trip with the intrepid Jackie, and many many ebay finds.

But now I am still addicted to the shops known as Ebay & Target - however my shopping high now leaves me feeling a little bit blue. And now there is far more math involved. I was so shocked into reality last week when I purchased something and the dollar was listed at 77 cents! Gasp! That is like mid 1990s!

I again made the trek down to Bellis Fair today. But this time it was to pick up a vacuum cleaner for my mom and it was still 1/2 price even with the exchange. But it didn't feel the same. Instead of gleefully telling the border guard my total, I did so today with me head hung low.

It's just not the same. But I will still shop online - whether through Canadian shops or American because you just can't beat the selection (ever tried to find a Jimmy Neutron DVD here?).

Plus there is a sale at Gymboree on the 6th - 30% off your order. A good shopper can't be kept down. Maybe I am the saviour the American economy needs? Super Tassi!

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Wool - and other fabrics on the do not buy list

I was given a few gift certificates for The Gap for my birthday this year.

I dutifully went and vowed to spend the moola on me and not the kids (honestly a difficult challenge as I am always scouring the racks for great deals on clothes for the monkeys).

I couldn't really find anything that was a great find (style & dollar wise) so I settled on a creamy cardigan with a loose knit texture and big creamy buttons. It was much more expensive than I usually spend on a sweater from the Gap - but it was being financed by someone other than me (mother & brother & sister). So I splurged and bought the sweater.

Day in and day out I dodge toxic chemicals and bio hazard wastes. From permanent markers (for the love of all things alive who puts these markers with kids colouring books!! Flayed alive I tell you when I find the person putting these packages together!) to poop to throw up - it is all a part of my daily life. Understandably I have not bought anything wool or silk for years. Everything
I own needs to be absorbent (who knows when you are going to have to catch a boogie nose at the playground), durable and above all else washable.

Of course the creamy sweater stays pristine for about 1 week (miracle) but it is ambushed by a green felt marker in the end. Before putting it in the wash I clipped off that annoying square patch on the inside and read the washing instructions. It said hand wash in cold water. I usually take that to mean 'delicate' cycle on the washing machine. No harm no foul with the rule so far. In the sweater goes with the rest of the whites.

And out it comes - Eloise size!! Imagine my horror. My beautiful large loopy sweater now all tightly bound into size 6x.

Turns out said sweater was made of 100% wool. I should have been a bit more curious about the hand wash direction. But it was made in China (don't get my started - I know that I broke one of my own rules) and I figured that the best it could be would be a wool / cotton / rayon hybrid. But no. They went all out and made something nice in 100% wool!

HWSNBN thought that I should take it back to the Gap. But even I could se through my anger (self directed) that this was not the fault of the chipper staff at the Gap.

But I do have some advice for the Gap as it seems that they are starting to market to my demographic again (super moms looking for something stylish but not skanky). If we are in fact their new market & they want to respect the toxic to clothes atmosphere we work in - then maybe they should consider housing the fantastically shrinkable clothes in the back of the store. Similar to the porn huts at your local Blockbuster. That way we would know by visual cue that we were about to venture into fantasyland......

Monday, July 28, 2008

Trying to Live Without China

I'm trying to live without products from China. This has led to some tears and many deviations.
Everly's preferred soothers are made in Germany (Nuk), second soothers are made in England (Avent).
My preferred layette is made in Canada (Kushies Baby). Umbrella stroller is made in Italy (Peg Perego), jogging stroller Australia (Phil & Ted), car seats in America (Britax).

But most toys are from China and my beloved Gymboree clothes seem to all be made in China.

What is my beef with China? Well it really isn't a specific beef - except that over the last 30 years of my consumer life I have made the observation that most items made in China are poorly made and break easily. Cheap plastics or poorly cut fashion items. There are some exceptions to the rule (I am humbled by Gymboree - please find another country to manufacture your little girly frocks!). The one time I found a plastic container with a lid made in Canada it broke with little resistance.

But I am committed to avoiding products made in China. This is not about their human rights violations, relations with Tibet or propensity to eat dogs. It has everything to do with quality. I would rather spend a bit more money and buy something that I am not going to need to replace very 3 months.

Wish me luck. I predict that I will be making many exemptions but I am going to try.

Monday, July 14, 2008

CBSA Meet The Hague Convention

A few days ago on my way back into Canada I was questioned repeatedly by a Canada Border Service Agent whether or not I had a letter of permission to take my children out of Canada from their father.

I questioned her about her authority to ask me this question as I was bringing my canadian born children (with recent passports) back into the country. Not only that but she kept repeated the incorrect number of children that I had in the vehicle - 3 not 2 - which tells me her eagle eye for things askew was a bit askew itself.....

She continued to dogmatically repeat her question - did I have a notarized letter from the father? I advised her that I have never been questioned by the American border guards about whether or not I had permission (and they are the ones who would be denying my travel). She responded that was because the Americans don't care about Canadians and their custody and guardianship status.

At this statement I balked as I know that the Americans care very much who is coming into their country. They have signed onto The Hague Convention on the Civil Aspects of International Child Abduction (1988). Albeit they signed 5 years after Canada did - but the intention was the same - to assist parents in stopping or having their children repatriated to their native countries if they are unlawfully removed (Elian Gonzales ring any bells?).

So why was this Canadian border guard giving me the raspberry on an issue that she had no remedy for? Could she detain me in some sort of fashion like the Tom Hanks movie The Terminal? Living at The Peace Arch with my three kids.... limbo. No she could not deny me entry back into my country with my Canadian born child (with valid Canadian Passports - which their father had to sign for). Given that the kids have valid passports there is in implicit consent by HWSNBN is somewhat ADVISED that the kids are traveling into foreign lands.

But more to the point isn't it the job of the CBSA to make sure that they are protecting Canada by vetting international travelers that wish to mingle among us? Isn't their job to collect 'lost taxes' from shop happy Canadians returning home? Aren't they there to ensure that people aren't bringing back any biological pesticides / foreign invaders to keep our agricultural areas safe?

Did she ask if I am going to be visiting a farm? No
Did she ask if I had anything to declare? No

Buts he did ask if I had purchased any firearms or knives / weapons during my trip.

PULEEEZE. How many overweight mid 30's moms with three pre school aged kids have time to go shopping in the states during a day trip let alone have time to pick up a firearm?

What ever happened to common sense?

Saturday, July 5, 2008

We Shall Not Return

HWSNBN took the boys out today to cash in their sticker credits for toys. During their trip HWSNBN decided to go into a store (which looked like a toy store) with the boys to inquire about a special motor. The store was in Old Langley. The store owner was in a crabby mood. Now bear in mind that this was a small store, in an economically struggling part of Langley. In any event the store owner made it clear to HWSNBN that the kids were not welcome in the store. Which is a bit weird when you consider that it was a toy store and this guy clearly wouldn't hurt for making a sale. HWSNBN assured the owner that if anything was broken he would pay for it. This was NOT an antique store or a store which had any business putting limits on which kinds of people could come inside. Had either child broken anything HWSNBN would have bought up the store out of guilt - let alone pay for the item that was broken.

In the end they left quickly as the store owner was making them feel very unwelcome.

I started to think about what would have happened if instead of discriminating against kids, the store owner had said no black people in his store. Or no women. Or no gays. Or no First Nations. Or no wheelchairs. That would have been a scream from the community. But somehow we accept that people discriminate against kids.

One would think that the last group of people you should be rude to would be those who can afford to buy your pap from your store. Especially parents of young boys who are itching to increase their train collection & Hot Wheels breeding program. But more importantly I started to think about all the times that kids have been made to feel unwelcome. Who do these shop owners think that they are? I am probably the last person who you want to piss off because of your behaviour as a retailer. I will tell everyone about my experience. I will blog about it. I will boycott your store.

The store was C & Rs Hobbies Collectibles and the man who runs it clearly does not want your business. Grant him his wish.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

I Can Still Hear The Snare in The Square

Summer always evokes memories of summer cam p for me. And it wasn't a sleepaway camp where we made crafts, made out by the campfire and ate smores. I went to cadet camp for 5 years. It was more like 6am wake up calls, french fries for every lunch at the mess and grueling wedge head (because I was an air cadet and even when I was at an army camp in Whitehorse, I had to wear my wedge - fabulous for the forehead).

Believe it or not but these were some of the best summers of my life. I felt like I lived, loved and laughed the whole 7 to 8 weeks that I was at camp. I went to Band Camp in Vernon in 1990 - a hideous hair year completed with Sun In streaks in my hair and an impossible crush on a guy named Ferris. I then wen to on to win a panel to go to Tech camp in Borden 1991. I made a radio and won top Tech cadet in BC. I was able to learn about Inuit culture (Whitehorse 1992) when I was a staff cadet. I will never forget the humiliation when I marched up to the dias when they called out Warrent Officer positions - they said Curly and I thought that they said Curry. I ended up being an admin clerk. Which may be the place where I fell in love with flying staplers. Then it was onto Penhold for true Air Cadet Camp (the first 3 were mainly army cadet camps with a few positions for air cadets to beat drums or staple documents).

I surprised myself (and I think my home squadron officers) when I landed a WO2 position at Penhold. I suspect that this had much to do with the fact that I had no history with the people on staff (and hence no rekindled friendships) and a massive ear infection which rendered me deaf. So I had no one but myself to commiserate with and this meant that I didn't talk myself into blowing off lesson plans, didn't talk myself into sneaking out after hours and didn't really make any friends until after the staff cadets had been assigned. I was determined to work hard and redeem my previous placement the summer before.

And of course then there was Penhold 1994 - when the mighty had fallen and the old regime had been replaced. Which ultimately led to me having a demotion (although same pay rate) to flight sergeant and one of the most moody summers of my life.

I will blog more about this - but for now given the time of year - I am always transported back to that initial excitement of leaving home for summer camp.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Little F*&$er

There is a little man who chooses to drag race his vehicle around my neighbourhood. This has been recent - however it always happens this time of year. Something about it being spring time and little men with little penises road raging around the hood.

I hate this man. He may be a teenager or he may be a middle aged guy on his lunch break- I am not sure. But if I catch him I guarantee that I will change his religion.

Today he scared Rowan so badly while he was in the backyard I vowed to catch him this summer if it is the only public service that I do.

For those of you who can remember the verbal smack down I gave to '9pm Rev My Motorcycle' guy you should looking forward to how I handle no Muffler Man.

Stay tuned.....

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Instant Gratification of Ebay

I love ebay. I just love it. There is a drama placed out with every transaction. Will I win it? Will I be outbid? Can I hit the bid button fast enough??

of course there is a dark side to all this 'shopping'. There is the crushing defeat when someone outbids you by 50 cents on an item that you thought that you had in the bag. Or the scary reality that you might have bought 3 Incrediblocks (no small mistake at $25 shipping per item). Or the relief that you in fact only bought 2 and had already found a home for the extra. There is cheeky smugness if you outbid someone. There is the excitement of the doorbell ringing - especially when you didn't pay extra for direct shipping to Canada.

Some recent finds - $3.74 for a Matt & Nat wallet (that matched my purse), 7 Gymboree summer outfits for Everly for 2 dollars a piece, Bjorn spit cover for half price. I LOVE ebay.

Next goal is to buy kitchen fixtures & bathroom faucets... about 75% cheaper on ebay.

Truly satisfying on a rainy weekday....

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

You Oughtta Know....

I would estimate that 50% of my parenting energy goes towards 'crime prevention'.

By this I mean that I try to avert disaster before it strikes. LIke putting all sharp knives up high. Removing all things breakable from the play room. Hiding chocolate and other treats up high before the little truffle sniffers can find them and demand TREATS before breakfast. Putting my favourite and my best bath bubbles under the sink so that they do not get used for general bubble making. Poopi - scooping the backyard before allowing the kids to play in the backyard. And up until two weeks ago this list also included putting all paints and paint brushes on top of the bookcase in the den so that the kids could not make eye contact with said contra ban and I was totally in charge of when and if there was going to be 'fun with paint time'.

I should also note that part of my crime prevention program includes vetting out inappropriate gifts such as paints with warning labels which include instructions which explicitly state that you must wash paint immediately off anything you don't want stained forever. Unless said paint gift is from a relative that we see quite frequently. In which case I divert to plan B which is keep the paint but keep it out of sight. Honestly when this gift was given I spent a long time searching the instructions on the bottles for the words WASHABLE or Water Soluble. Nada. Might as well be oil based melamine as far as I was concerned. Who the hell buys permanent paint for a 4 year old???

In a moment of blind stupidity, or perhaps due to extreme sleep deprivation, or an undeniable need to putting everything back in its place during my nesting phase prior to going into labour on May 19th, I grabbed the paint and assorted brushes and put them back with their art supply brethearn.

Sure enough yesterday while I was trying to mesh swimming schedules there was an unearthly quiet in the dinning room. After the quiet registered I got up to see two little people looking really guilty with a streak of gold in their hair. And fists full of wet wipes which also look like they have been used to mop up a large amount of gold PAINT. In the dining room. On the dining room CARPET in three separate pools of paint (with some hot pink for flair).

On my knees and scrubbing for what seems like hours (but honestly must have been for about 5 minutes) and there is only a wisp of a colour change to the pools. They resemble huge skid marks. In that special mopped up post gold way - sort of green and brown after tones. So I DRENCH the carpet in fantastic Oxy clean. And then I spray it again with cleaner. Then I let it sit and start to scrub again after HWSNBN gets home ("Why weren't you supervising them?"). Nothing. Just three huge skid marks.

Now before anyone starts a bottle drive for me to get my carpets cleaned ASAP I should say that we have already bought the hardwood and planned on the weekend that HWSNBN will be putting the hardwood down. In fact the reason why the art easel is even in the dining room is because of the plans to change the flooring. The only glitch is that this particular project is not scheduled to begin until September.

So it shall be a summer of skid marks in the dining room. Please look away when you come over....

For the record I have dispensed with the unwashable paint. And I dare the wrath of the relative to rain on me. Of course I will give them the Van Gogh tour when they come over next......

Monday, May 19, 2008


So here I sit - my last Sunday morning sort of alone at the computer. It is the last day of a long weekend and the count down to baby has started in earnest (3 more sleeps). I am in clean up mode - which is nice for the living space, not so nice for my husband (Do you REALLY need to keep this Metallica CD? When is the last time you actually listened to it? What about this Diablo gaming manual? What about this joy stick?). The kids could care less. They don't even play with the toys that I have already downsized. The dogs aren't miffed (as demonstrated by the fact that they are back to snoring at 7:28 am after breakfast & a trip outside).

But I am thinking of all the things that we do keep in our homes which really have no monetary meaning - but sentimental meaning galore. My mother was cleaning out her garage this past weekend and produced a shoe box to me filled with pictures that I had packed away from my days at summer camp. They were framed and everything. There was even a Bean figurine with a saying about kids stenciled on its belly (which my sister inexplicably wanted to have for her office). What am I going to do with that kind of stuff? I am a scrapbooker - but this stuff seems beyond the pale. I can barely finish off the boys baby's albums (super sorry - I have given myself an Olympic time clock for those items) let alone start looking at things from the mid 1990s. I think that we have stopped taking so many pictures because it is associated with scrapbookers guilt! ;)

So I guess I need to cull out the truly bad pictures and pack the rest of them up for reflection when my kids leave the house and I have more time. In about 20 years. Good grief. They should have an organisational aisle at London Drugs called - Putting Away Stuff for Decades. BPA free!

Thursday, May 15, 2008

To Tie or Not to Tie.....

My GP has asked me whether or not I want to have my tubes tied during my c section next week.
Initially I thought no, HWSNBN should be responsible for something physical in this childbearing scenario. But then my GP made the point that HWSNBN will not get blood work completed for a relatively minor ailment - what are the chances that he will actually follow through with a vasectomy?

So I called HWSNBN and advised him that the GP recommended that we get the tubes tied during the section and that we could advise the OBGYN the morning of the surgery that we wanted it done. Initially there was whooping on the other end of the phone. I have to admit that I did offer to get this done if we could agree to a third baby.

But then HWSNBN started to think about it and decided (base don what kind of science I am not sure) that maybe having a tubal ligation was not as effective as a vasectomy. However I pointed out that in theory that may be correct (what do I know?), but at least with the tubal ligation we would know that it was done as opposed to the mythical "I'll get a vasectomy when I pluck up the courage to get some blood work done". If the blood work that has been waiting for the non life changing / altering condition (coming up on one year) is anything to go on then we will be pregnant again by the end of the year with HWSNBN's plan.

Every fiber in my being is telling me that if I want to be in control of this then I will need to get my tubes tied next week. I am still not sure that is what I really want to do. I know that having a 4th section isn't a safe choice either as the risk of complications rise. And to be honest I have had some bad mommy moments this year.

But still if I leave it up to HWSNBN - will it ever get done?

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Things I will miss, Things I will not miss

I know that this is my last pregnancy and I have spent some time thinking about what I will miss about being pregnant. It was an admittedly short list. So I had to make a counter list of things that I would not miss. After much contemplation, here it is:

Things I will miss:
feeling baby move (summersault, kick, push & turn)
elastic band pants
glossy hair

Things I will not miss:
pitting edema
carpel tunnel syndrome (numb fingers)
random nausea
not being able to see my feet
bladder the size of a thimble
gaining 4 pounds in 1 week
blood work
epidural fear - last time he missed
not bending & stretching

9 more days and I will be finished with my physical state of pregnancy. As noted I am ready to say good bye to this stage. Too bad you can't record the feeling of the baby moving within - because that is really cool. Sort of like that scene in the original Aliens without the chest bursting.

But alas all good things need to end.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Pink Crocs

Well I finally broke down - 18 months after the fad hit - and bought some pink crocs.

I know that by the time I actually get it together to find scissors, paint nails, hot weather etc they will not only be hideously out of style but may have taken on the popularity of lead painted Thomas trains.

But they are sooo tempting to wear outside. I see myself romping around in the back yard, picking up dog poop and kids toys the like with a little pink waddle to my step. The beach! The back yard! Pool parties! The opportunities seem endless.

I do hope that I use a big more discretion with the crocs than I do with my Lululemon cropped pants. My increasing dependence on them is a bit scary this late in my pregnancy considering they are not 'panel'. Which results in belly hand over. Which results in my looking like a sexy plumber from the belly button down.

But what is the worst that can happen with the crocs? Fungal foot?

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

The Other Woman

My husband is addicted to Zelda. It is really my fault as I brought her into the home as a Valentines gift.

Little did I know that she would replace me at night time, replace the inherent desire to unload the dishwasher, replace the urge to pack lunches and make sure that all the doors are locked and secured at night.

He Who Shall Not Be Named hates it when I blog about him - however tonight when I tried to talk to him about the issue of playing Zelda for 2.5 hours when there was a dishwasher full of dishes to be unloaded and loaded - he said that I could have done that task in the morning (on top of my other tasks such as getting 2 small children up, dressed, fed and watered and in the van for 2 daycare drops). Not withstanding the fact that I was busy organising the boys clothes and condensing them into one room last night - collapsing into bed at 9:30pm with a large bag of clothes to be donated and all the new little spawns things in the 'baby's room' when Master Wii player HWSNBN was playing with his other woman.

I agree that no one wants to unload the dishwasher. But there needs to be some kind of compromise - like cut your play time down to 2 hours a night so that you can do some household chores.

Normally HWSNBN does participate in household chores. Not with the same capacity as me to multi task - but he does a share of the duty. Until she came along.

Perhaps it is time for Zelda to swim with the fishes...... then at least I might some evening participation!

Friday, March 21, 2008

104 weeks of pregnancy

I can't believe that I have been pregnant for 2 years (not counting the misfire). I have been more tired this time around - could be because of the product from the first 72 weeks of pregnancy. But I am faced with the knowledge that I have been pregnant for 104 weeks. And I am sure that I am done at the end of this one.

It is a nice feeling to know that you are done. I know that I am not technically done yet - there is still the anxiety about the spinal epidural, the fear of being alone with three kids with no daycare and a whole summer stretched out in front of me, post partum depression. But there is some satisfaction knowing that I will be complete after baby #3 enters into the world.

Phew. But a part of me knows the truth - that this is the just the beginning of the marathon of parenthood....

It's Official

I did the unthinkable (for a scrapbooker) yesterday.
I bought a box of 50 handmade cards from Costco. For $12.
Because I have been unable to muster the strength, desire and inspiration to make my own cards.
Despite the fact that I have spend hundreds if not thousands of dollars on scrapbook stuff over the past 3 years.

I am not sure where my mojo went in regards to creating paper crafts. It could be the fact that I go to bed around 8:30pm which is putting a damper not only on my crafty side but also denting my sex life. I also can't seem to organise a thought about any kind of page layout.

I did manage to make a card for my niece a few weeks back - and I will make her an album. But it will suck all of the energy I have to complete the task.

For now I am a scrapbooking untouchable.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

The Jig is Up

Well the little people in our house have wised up to the fact that there is going to be an invasion in about 14 weeks.

Linden asked me as we were leaving daycare one day this past week whether there was a baby in my big tummy or maybe I just ate too much lunch. Clearly time to show our cards to the little people. We weren't going to tell them until after their newest niece or nephew is born (in about 2 weeks) - but maybe I should be pleased that they knew that I was getting rotund.

Both boys have put their orders in - only a sister will do thank you very much. When I try to dissuade them by saying that a brother would be nice as well and they could show him how to play with all the Thomas toys they each give me the hairy eye ball. As though only an insane mummy would suggest that sharing toys could be a benefit to having a sibling enter into the house. Maybe only an insane mummy would see that as a bonus.... Clearly it is interpreted as an act of war.....

This does cause a dilemma though - what happens if we do have another boy and there is a mass revolt? Burning of the power ranger costumes, hiding of Thomas toys, purposely developing a love for mustard which would simultaneously destroy all of their clothes... Maybe we should find out what we are having so we can do some prep for the boys....

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Maternal Guilt - the gift that keeps giving

We invited a friend out to the movies on Saturday. This was the first time that we had 'gone' out to a movie since Blades of Glory in the Spring of 2007. This was HUGE for my friend and I. Lame, but huge to actually get out just the two of of without kids for the second time in 10 months.

Third friend invited regretfully declines invite as she had gone running that morning then a haircut and she felt that she needed to spend the night in because of all the time she had been out of the house that day. Fair game. But it got me thinking about whether I had ever heard a dad decline an invite out because they had attended a sporting event & got a haircut that same day and were feeling guilty about being out of the home.

Well those words have yet to be uttered by He Who Shall Not Be Named in my house and I hazard a guess that he is not unique.

I continually feel as though I need to justify my social activities to HWSNBN. Not because he demands it, but because I am so hung up on the fact that if I choose to go out with my friends (second time in 10 months - what the heck is wrong with me? Clearly I am a wanton hedonistic gal getting my social needs met before my kids needs) it means that I am choosing movies or Starbucks conversations over my little buddies. And that had better be a really good caramel machiato to pull me away from the kidlets.

I don't think that I am particular in this as a mom and I believe that it is something that our male parents do not really struggle with. Hockey three nights a week? No big deal. Proof is that the kids don't forget who they are even though they at times don't see them for 1, 2 or 3 days at a time (given that little buddies are only awake from 7am to 7:30pm respectively). So why don't I feel that same freedom to scrapbook or work overtime without incurring hideous and debilitating levels of guilt?

Monday, February 11, 2008

A Bridge Too Far

There is a mom at daycare who I really do not like.

She never says hello - yet is inexplicably there sitting in the living room every night I come to get my kids.
She has never attended a birthday party that we have invited her to for the kids - although she does RSVP with the usual vapid - "We can't come to the party." It is especially annoying as it was a pity daycare invite in the first place as her child is odd as well.

Last summer she actually subbed in for the usual daycare provider and had the cajones to reprimand my child in front of me in a nasty tone. It was a good thing that I was not 100 % (just had the D&C) otherwise I would have leapt over the couch and tied her braids together and booted her saggy ass back to her home. But I kept my mouth shut (all the while giving her hairy eye ball) and kindly requested that my d/c provider NEVER ask her to look after my children again.

But despite that huge parenting / daycare I still say hello to her and goodbye to her and her weird kid everyday that I see her. And she is silent. I have thought that maybe she is autistic. But I have come to the conclusion that she is just rude.

And to top it all off we are having babies at the same time. She looks like a brown haired Heidi Remake cast off and I still look remotely stylish. Maybe life is fair after all......

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Be True to Thy Self

I have a confession to make. Most of you who are my friends will already know this confession. But here it is.

I am a bad friend. I rarely return phone calls, I randomly send emails, I make plans and then cancel at the last minute, I sometimes don't cover my mouth when I sneeze, the list could go on and on.

I would like to say that all this bad friend etiquette started when I had kids, but there are too many of you out there who know differently. For a while it was masked because I lived in Victoria and actually sent out Christmas cards to a whole host of people. Little did they know that one Christmas card was me running at full friendship capacity. It just looked good because I didn't live in the same town.

The weird thing is that I genuinely like / treasure all of my friends. I think of you guys often and wonder how you are with your families and careers and lives. If I called or emailed every time I thought about you guys then I would be bordering on stalking..... well maybe not. But there would be more than one or two calls a year.

How did this happen? Am I lazy? Is the Metro Vancouver to blame? Are we simply too thinly spread between working full time, parenting, random acts of exercise and commuting? Throw in a 30 minute drive to the old stomping grounds and it is kaput?

There is no excuse. I am not an artist, I am not involved in any team sports (they would kick me out for lack of participation), I am not actively involved in any sort of time consuming hobbies (scrapbooking 1x a month if I am lucky), I do not have any debilitating illnesses (unless you consider 3rd pregnancy in 5 years incapacitating) and I do not cook very much or bake. There is no reason for me not to eek out some time for my friends.

So here is to you - the friends who have hung in there and call even though I am criminally negligent. I enjoy all of our conversations and I value your input. The emails and random cards brighten my day.

I will do better!

Sunday, January 20, 2008

The Wii Mii

She is quite a catch. A nice bob haircut without any fly aways, she has a clear complexion, no need for glasses and seems to always be smiling.

She has a 120 average in bowling. There are no hissy fits when she gets a gutter ball. She doesn't stamp her feet or curse everyone around her. She smiles and picks up another ball. She doesn't do a dance when she beats Wii Mii Colin at bowling. She even smiles as she boxes Wii Mii Rowan (always to a KO - cyber child abuse?).

I would love to be Wii Mii for one day.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

I want Nunavut!

All this time I was saying "I want None of It", but clearly after seeing the Jobs section of the Vancouver Sun this weekend, what I really meant was "I want Nunavut!"

I have reached the top of my pay scale as a social worker in BC. This is a livable wage and it generally keeps me in the way in which I have been accustomed. Sure the merlot is sometimes in a box - but I really have no complaints.

Until now. Turns out that if I was plying my trade in Nunavut I would be making $65,228.00 per annum with a $25,030.00 pre annum northern allowance. Or should I make it as a supervisor the wage would be $73,398.00 per annum plus the northern allowance. To me this would mean, without a lot of thought into why the northern allowance is so high, farewell boxed merlot, hello fresh from France merlot.

$90K to be a social worker in Nunavut....... $98K to be a supervisor. Now depending on how much money I would need to make a comparably lifestyle up there.... this could be very tempting. Even if it meant mail order Lululemon for two years and months of snowmobiling training in order to make it work.

I am clearly not a Nunavut Land Claim beneficiary... which could be detrimental to my success of panelling for the position. There is the distinct possibility that my children could be lost in a snow drift. And of course I can not ignore the massive amount of education I would require in order to learn about the North and the distinctive cultures of the people who live there. Safe to assume that my limited knowledge of first nations people is seriously lacking. But for $90K plus a year (and that is the starting wage!) I would be a fast learner.

Just something to ponder on a Sunday before the beginning of a long work week....

Thursday, January 3, 2008

The BEST job EVER!

After much deliberation and many years of questioning peers about the attributes of the best job ever, I have decided which job is the BEST. Sadly it is not my job. But I know someone who works in this employment and he gets 8 weeks of vacation and is off every day between 2 - 3pm.

The job is..... Canada Post Mailperson!

Sure they have to work in the rain sometimes - but they get standard issued uniforms complete with rain slickers and matching short outfits for summer. All in navy blue! My favourite!

Sometimes my mailperson has their own mini golf cart type vehicle which they drive on my lawn and leave idle while they deliver their wares. Rarely does a parcel weigh more than a few pounds and my mailperson has wicked muscle tone in the leg.

I am not the first to 'discover' this dream job. A good friend who is currently a teacher in Delta first claimed this to be the best job ever while we were still in university. Why she never pursued this dream is unknown to me. Instead she spends her days with cheeky elementary school kids.

If I could do it all over again, I may have taken a different route.