Lexablog

Warning: Geeky Knitting Post

2005-08-09T19:36:00.000-06:00

Psst... Check out those sweaters - and the men in my life are pretty cute too.
Jack's sweater a.k.a. the woolen colonoscopy took no less than a zillion hours of knitting up a great pattern: The Manly Sweater designed by Kate Wisson as found in Debbie Stoller's cool little handbook for knitters Stitch 'N Bitch.

Materials: I used very nice Galway Heather Irish worsted 100% pure wool in three lovely colors. My only major complaint is that it took such a long time. Seriously, *cough* MONTHS of knitting but I worked through the pain. I knit the sleeves at the same time and I seriously had moments where I was may have been thinking about what a nice vest this would make.

Minor glitch: the fact that I was so worried about making the sleeves too short that I inevitably made them about an inch too long. Ahhh well, I have to say that overall I am very pleased with the results. That being said - I am not sure if I would ever again knit another men's XL sweater without the promise of *ahem* some serious jewelry in return.

I have got to say that Jack was an incredible sport over the past few months of the process. Ex. every time he would walk into the room it was not uncommon for me to hang bits of knitting off of him and take endless measurements. I also may have talked about knitting a lot and he still managed to at least feign interested and smile and nod in the right places. Good on ya hunny!

2005-08-09T19:34:00.000-06:00

Matthew's sweater was a blink in time as compared to the woolen colonoscopy I made for Jack but it was not without it's moments.

The pattern is from Cast On Magazine May-July, 2005. The Designer is Laura Bryant and the pattern is called Barefoot in the Park Boy's Pullover.

* At this point you may have inferred two things about me which you may find alarmingly geeky.
1. Knitting Magazines
2. I purposely removed my son's socks for this picture - I know, I know...

OCD moment: I am also seriously fighting the urge to get Jack and Matthew to pose for more pictures - but separately - and maybe in some natural lighting - as the green couch and the two green sweaters are clashing in a bad way. Deep breath Lexa - move on...

Anyway - let's see what else can I tell you about this sweater?
It took about two weeks to knit. I did not use the yarn called for in the pattern. The pattern actually calls for a lovely 100% cotton crepe BUT as the sweater is destined for a soon to be 3 year old, I wanted something a bit more washable. I end up using a wool/ acrylic blend from Phildar called Pegase +

Glitch: This sweater was almost one size too small and if it were not for the meager 30% wool content of the yarn that allowed me to "aggressively" block the crap out of it - it would have been a bad, bad scene involving a big fat hissy fit. Thankfully it ended up fitting Matthew nicely but will probably only last this season until it is outgrown.

So I guess, overall I am pleased. Well except for the badly lit clashing green photos that are now making me cringe a bit.

25 days left until school starts…

2005-08-04T12:24:00.000-06:00

Every year without fail we purchase one of those advent calendars for the kids, you know, the ones that count down the month of December to the BIG DAY. Each morning the kids religiously pry open the corresponding perforated cardboard window and extract the questionable tasting little chocolate that has been badly molded into the shape of a sprig of holly or what have you.

For this one month out of the year my daughter will repeatedly inform you, every family member, the dogs, and unsuspecting telemarketers of the exact day and date. She will also add in other handy information, for example, on on the evening of December 19th she will advise you that there are ONLY SIX more sleeps until Christmas and ONLY FIVE more shopping days left.

* This morning - 7:35 am.

Emma (loud): MOM!?
Me: Yeah?

Emma: So, is it Saturday today?
Me: Nope, it’s Thursday.

Emma (suspicious): Huh… It feels like Saturday. Are you SURE?
Me: Yes I am sure.

Emma (loud): MOM!?
Me: Yeah?

Emma (whiny): I’m bored!

Wouldn’t it be great if they also had advent calendars for parents that counted down the month of August? Perhaps each little window could contain - say an Advil - OR - even better, maybe those little airplane bottles of vodka?

I would buy one.

Another Day Another Holler: Telltale Signs Of Motherhood

2005-08-01T12:15:00.000-06:00

1. Even though everyone who resides in your house has several of their own grooming devices - your hairbrush is the one that is always missing.
2. Once you find your hairbrush - you then have to spend 15 minutes picking sparkly doll hair out if it.
3. You have designated “time-out” locations in your house.
4. You spend your “free-time” doing laundry.
5. You have come to the conclusion that - left to their own devices the other members of your family would indeed all die from scurvy while wearing dirty underwear.
6. You have shouted variations of: “I swear to GOD the next one of you who starts crying, screaming or whining will be sold on ebay! In Canadian Dollars!!”
7. You used to be thinner and go out to places ALONE. Ahh… Good times…
8. You have stepped on pieces of Lego/ ello/ Clickets/ Hot Wheels etc…at 2:00am and had to stifle your scream for fear of waking the baby.
9. The mere thought of packing for a family camping trip causes you to have an anxiety attack.
10. You used to be able to remember things – now you write lists.
11. You have had to pull off of the freeway during rush hour traffic and find a gas station not because you are low on gas, but because somebody in the back seat “Has to go really bad!”
12. You wipe the counter in your kitchen about 500 times a day and you never seem to have any clean spoons.
13. You know the difference between a fake cry and a real one.
14. Your house is stocked with Band-Aids that sport Disney characters on them.
15. Your husband understands that a hard elbow to the gut at 3:00am while he is feigning sleep means that he had better go deal with that screaming child in the other room.
16. You have at one time signed a permission form with an orange crayon because there was no other alternative and the bus was coming.
17. You have sympathized with other parents whose children were misbehaving in public places while at the same time thanking God that this time it was not you.
18. You are expected to know where every bloody thing in the house is and are met with complete disbelief when you “don’t know where the Gameboy is.”
19. You are up to speed on subtle differences between: Groovy Girls, Barbies, Bratz Dolls, Polly Pockets, and My Scene dolls.
20. You are now resigned to the disgusting fact that none of the clothing and accessories for any of the above will fit any of the other dolls.
21. You have looked at the family dog who is curled up on the floor next to the garbage can peacefully napping and have been jealous.
22. You have learned things the hard way such as: Natural Childbirth REALLY FREAKING hurts but that a sleepover party at your house with 10 eight-year old girls is much, much worse.
23. You have realized that unless you are the one to put the groceries away that your family will simply graze right out of the bags.
24. You feel quite accomplished when you have managed to keep the dirt level in your house down to silt.
25. Your war wounds include: stretch marks, cellulite, gray hairs, a facial tic and the crazed look of a woman on the edge that will motivate your husband to install the new kitchen sink taps and may occasionally inspire your children to pick up their rooms.
26. When you start cleaning the house you notice that family members seem to disappear - yet when you go into the bathroom and shut the door they miraculously reappear and need you to do stuff for them.
27. You have stayed up really REALLY late making a child’s Halloween costume only to be met with a comment like “it’s okay, I guess…”
28. You now buy your children’s Halloween costumes.
29. You notice that your own mother appears to be enjoying your complaints of “The kids are driving me nuts!” just a little too much.
30. You really enjoy when all is quiet - but fear above all else when it is TOO quiet.

And,
31. You would not change one thing about your life.
(Except for maybe that being thinner thing…)

Things that make you go Hmmm...

2005-05-22T09:33:00.000-06:00

Abu Dhabi

2005-05-04T09:53:00.000-06:00

Apologies for not posting in a few weeks - I have been just plain bummed out.

The reason: Jack, the love of my life & father of my children is going to work in Abu Dhabi. Yeah, no shit - Abu freaking Dhabi!!

Fun facts: as well as being just a fun name to say, Abu Dhabi is also the capital city of the United Arab Emirates. UAE is a country located between Saudi Arabia and Oman. Sadly, until recently I have only ever known Abu Dhabi as the place where Garfield always threatened to mail the cute kitten Nermal. My age is showing here a bit.

So Jack is going over there to do some consulting work for drilling rig construction. He will be gone for at least a month. I guess I am "fairly" okay with it now. But it sure hit home hard yesterday that he was really going when he went for his Typhoid & other various travel immunizations.

Well out of curiosity, I just checked the weather over there - it is a balmy 107 degrees Fahrenheit with mild to moderate dust levels.
Well there you go - I don’t believe Jack has ever been that hot before in his life. He has been that dusty before - so at least he has got that one covered.

I will post more later - I have been knitting lately. I know, knitting?!?
Yep, knitting cures the soul. Okay so maybe I am just a closet geek - whatever.

I have been to hell and back…

2005-04-11T11:27:00.000-06:00

Okay, no not really… We have just been doing more home renovations. And good news! Jack and I are still together! Hahahaha, seriously, but nothing really tests a relationship like home renovations do. (Especially when there are children to be attended to and dogs underfoot.) Not that I am bitter or anything but The Home Depot should also have an aisle for the do-it-yourself home marriage counseling kits…

Here is a tiny excerpt from last week:

Jack (grumpy and pointing to the dining room floor): AH CRAP!! Well, I can’t put any of the new flooring down yet.
Me (shrill): WHAT? I thought we had decided to go with the oak flooring in the dining room?

Jack (big sigh): I said YET! Look, there is a huge crown in the floor here. See it? I have to fix that first before I can put down the new flooring?
Me (walking on the area): Oh wow, it is a little slanty here isn’t it?

Jack (grumble): Yes, if by a little slanty you mean like a ski hill…
Me (grumpy): Okay whatever, so there is a BIG BUMP in the floor! How do we fix that? Do we need some floor leveler?

2 minutes later:
Me (shocked): Jack! What are you doing with that pry bar?

30 seconds later:
Me (groan): There is going to be a huge hole in the floor soon isn’t there?

10 seconds later:
Me (sigh): So, is there any beer left?

Anyway, this time it was the living room/ dining room that were renovated. Jack fixed the uneven floor (my hero!!) then we painted, put in new oak flooring, lovely new ceramic tile, and new baseboards, casing and trim all around. It looks really nice AND there is no more view of the basement from the dining room – so you know, it’s all good.

*** FFF Results – progress is SLOW but still going:
I had lost a total of 11 pounds by the end of week 3! Yay!
BUT then I gained 3 ‘reno pounds’ back because I was eating pretty much like crap all of last week. I don’t want to make excuses… *Ahem, but it is really hard to cook healthy meals when there is a table saw set up in your kitchen AND I would like to state that when you are tired, crabby, and covered in paint the only way you want to do any cooking is with a credit card and a phone. Oh AND, it also seems that beer goes down amazingly well when one is painting walls. It must be the same phenomena as when doing yard work. Mmmm beer…
So needless to say I am back to 8 pounds lost. BUT, now that the house is getting back to normal and all the beer & take out food has been disposed of my goal this week is to lose the three “reno” pounds I gained back.

I also recently celebrated my 32nd birthday – ACK! I am not going to hide my age or be overly sensitive about it - BUT it just occurred to me that I am now closer to 40 than I am to 20, sorry one more - ACK!

On the day of my birthday Jack taught me how to cut ceramic tile using the wet saw. It was actually kind of fun though my lovely manicured nails really paid the price… BUT, I didn’t cut a finger off or anything so YAY ME! Later that evening we celebrated my birthday in the very dusty, debris filled room with the lovely (BIG HOLE) view of the basement by enjoying fabulous but evil, artery clogging, and calorie ridden take-out pizza and a few glasses of yummy sparkling wine. At one point, Jack gazed lovingly into my eyes and said “Happy Birthday darling!” and then he reached over picked a shard of ceramic tile out of my hair.

So anyway, apologies for the break in posting – I will be more vigilant now that I can physically get to my computer again. I will also post pictures as soon as I can find my camera!

FFF Week 1 Results Are In!

2005-03-16T15:55:00.000-07:00

FFF Challenge Week 1 Results:
I have lost 8 pounds people. You heard me - EIGHT POUNDS!! I know I know it’s probably mostly just water weight – but I will take it. I also measured body parts and the results for that are about ½ inch smaller in some places but nothing yet in others. So I don’t really know where this eight pounds came from – but as I said before – I will take it.

Here is what I have been doing to lose the weight:
I am tracking everything I eat as well as my daily activities. I have been trying to stick to about 1500 calories a day. I have been working out 5-6 times a week for about 45 minutes each session. I do about 30 minutes of cardio – usually on my treadmill then 15 minutes of weight training using the universal gym and free weights. I am lucky in the sense that I do have some nice equipment at home and therefore do not actually need to go to a gym to work out. Aside from this I am drinking a lot of water and taking a daily vitamin. I do have protein shake type stuff in my house as but haven’t started using that yet.

Things I have noticed:
I really hate cardio – I think I have mentioned that I hate and last week, my time on the treadmill was absolutely horrible. This week though I will admit that the treadmill experience of absolutely horrible has been downgraded a notch to now being simply incredibly unpleasant. My stamina is improving slightly and I have already noticed that I can do more reps and crunches than last week – so that is pretty cool.
I am peeing ALL the time – obviously due to the fact that I have been drinking a lot of water and caffeine free herbal teas. Actually the herbal teas are helping me with my food cravings. I have a sweet tooth and have been really enjoying Licorice spice, Chai, and Apple Cinnamon teas immensely.

Emma’s Birthday Party:
We rented out the local pool, which also has a party room facility to have Emma’s 8th B-Day party. As it was a pool party and NOT AT MY HOUSE I encouraged Emma to invite a few more kids than I would normally allow. She invited 20 kids. I thought at MOST maybe 10-13 would actually show up. Well – wouldn’t you know it - ALL freaking 20 of them came. It was total insanity. Jack took one for the team and hung out in the pool with the kids while myself and another kind parent who offered to stay supervised from the pool deck. Yes there were lifeguards AND all the kids were wearing life jackets but still, 20 eight year olds at play is a force to be reckoned with. At any given moment Jack had about 7-12 kids hanging off of him in the pool. It is amazing that they did not inadvertently drown the man – but he was a trooper and hung in there. My favorite moment was watching Jack go off the rope swing and cannonball into the pool – all the kids cheered at the resulting BIG splash. It was very cute.
The party afterwards went also well, though it did take a long time for Emma to open 20 gifts – good grief. But the kids were ravenous little monsters and ate all the cake, chips, sandwiches, and pop that I brought – so no tempting leftovers for me!

My trip to the city:
After the dramatic 8 pound loss weigh-in I then promptly took off for 2 days to go visit my best friend Holly. It was fabulous we chatted, drank too much sparkling wine and there may have been an *ahem all you can eat buffet involved… BUT – overall, I think I did pretty well and did not go too crazy with too much overeating. It was a very nice break from the kids and a nice visit with a good friend.

So now after my little two-day hiatus from the eating plan and work out regime I am whole heartedly back on the program and do hope to lose 2 pounds by the end of this week. It would sure be nice to see a 10-pound loss after two weeks.

Wish me luck!

Gearing up for FFF week 1 weigh-in...

2005-03-11T14:33:00.000-07:00

So tomorrow I will be doing my week one progress check from the Fatty Family Face-Off challenge. Actually I think I have done very well this past week. I have stuck to my diet and I have worked out every day this week. Have I mentioned that I hate cardio yet? Well, I REALLY hate cardio. Today on the treadmill my mantra was “This SO sucks… This SO sucks…” but I got through my work-out. I feel pretty good (definitely been sleeping good) this week so hopefully this is a positive weight loss type sign.
I am hoping for a 5lb loss but I will really be proud of any loss. We shall see.

Tomorrow is my darling daughter Emma’s 8th B-Day party. We are having it at the local pool it should be hectic but fun. Emma is really looking forward to it.

Then I am off to visit my best friend Holly in the city on Sunday-Monday. Hi Holly!! I can’t wait to see her & of course to have one whole evening away by myself. I know somehow I will pay for this though. The last time I went away (to attend a funeral in Sechelt, B.C.) and left Jack with the kids for 3 days I came home to a broken hot water tank… not his fault, the thing just died but somehow it still felt like God was punishing me for having the gall to leave my family.

Anyway after the BDay party tomorrow I will take the measurements and weigh-in and post the dreaded Week 1 FFF results.

Yikes.

Fatty Family Face-Off

2005-03-06T20:21:00.000-07:00

My family is doing a weight loss challenge together.

The parameters have been set. We have all weighed in, measured inches and assessed our individual body mass indexes. Time frame is starting today until July 6th. The person to lose the most weight/ inches/ BMI fat % will be crowned the winner.

And naturally, to make things a little more interesting we have each wagered $100.

Sometimes I now get asked (well mainly by Jack): "So is that going to end up on your blog?" My answer: "Well yeah it might - but you still love me right?"

This time, (suprisingly) those involved in this family experience have stated that they don't care if I write about this on my blog. Apparently this experience is to be a positive family venture towards a higher state of health and happiness (and yeah, so maybe a few hundred bucks also gets exchanged - whatever.) BUT, being that we were all somewhat horrified and reluctant to share measurement results amongst ourselves - well, I don't know about them, but I myself am not quite ready to make the exact degree of my chubbiness public. (Denial? I know, bite me Dr. Phil.) Also, these are the people that babysit my children for me - so ultimately, I don't care what they say, it would be just plain stupid to write about their weight.

I will however describe MY personal weight situation as follows:

My current weight: Gee, you don't look like you weigh THAT much.
My goal weight: I can't believe you've had TWO children - you look frigging AWESOME!

So bear with me because I will be writing about my progress during the weeks ahead as well as my fitness level which I hope drastically improves. Overall, I hope to lose 25-30 lbs. My goal for this week is 5 lbs let's see if I can pull that off. I have decided to basically just stick to the Weight Watchers core plan - but this time without the *ahem ice cream and lime margaritas... and of course to exercise daily.

Wish me luck & please feel free to cheer me on or to suggest how I should spend my winnings!

Oh, this is SO ON!!

I’m so busy I’m standing still

2005-02-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

I took a break on posting – which is probably a good thing because the posts would have simply been incoherent ramblings. This month has been just crazy - like irritable bowl syndrome crazy.

I also missed reading my favorite blogs and will definitely spend some time today catching up with what you all have been doing for the past week. I took a peek at what some have been up to already and I see I have to update another one of my links. A slew of people way cooler than me - well maybe not WAY cooler - but definitely slightly more - have been migrating to dot com land or doing neat stuff to their existing templates. Sigh... I'm SO jealous - but all of your sites look extremely nice and when I have the time to learn how to - ah, who am I kidding... Nevermind.

You see, Jack had been away working for 5 weeks straight – that bastard – okay he was hard at work providing for his family, putting food on the table and more importantly contributing significantly to my “I REALLY need a new car” fund. But, after week number three of being alone with my children, I did start to hate him a bit. Add to that four birthday parties and a sleepover for Emma. Matthew with the flu then baby measles (puke everywhere), countless loads of laundry and then a trip to vet for dimwitted Shlabby dog (who is now barking in falsetto) to get neutered.

Oh right - and my job (which I do really enjoy) but it has also been a bit hectic as of late. I gave spectacular presentation at a workshop at the beginning of the month. Okay so there may have been a few Power Point slides involved BUT nobody actually fell asleep – so basically it went pretty well. I also took a 2-day seminar course on Leadership & Communication skills - learned about 'active listening' and some other stuff yadda, yadda, yadda… Then the days became a mad blur spent playing catch up in office for the above activities. Oh my GOD the EMAILS…. I didn’t realize how many emails could be amassed during a 2-day absence from the office.

Then there is the course I am taking. One of the very cool perks about working at a progressive postsecondary institution is that we (the employees) can take the courses for FREE. That’s right FREE UNIVERSITY COURSES! Being that I am still paying student loans from my previous university endeavor NINE years ago, what could be better than free university? But somewhere in all the ‘Woohoo it’s free!’ excitement, I keep forgetting that in my previous university endeavor I did not have the 2 kids and the full time job… Result: I enroll in courses that are fabulous and incredibly interesting and then I am too busy or tired to work on them for a LONG TIME then I realize by way of a panic attack at 3:00am that I have a paper due and that should really just give up sleeping all together for the next week.

So, this weekend all I that have planned: to play with the kids, to run my dogs, and to relaxabitgoddamit. Well actually I have to do some laundry as I had to hunt for a clean pair of socks for Matthew this morning. And - I do really need to get groceries because I did also have to get a bit creative when packing Emma’s lunch yesterday. This is scary because at 7:00am and the house empty of standard lunchable type items there was a real possibility that the child could have ended up with a can of tuna, a few saltine crackers and a juice box in her Hillary Duff lunch kit.

BUT - I sure as hell am NOT vacuuming squat or cleaning any toilet bowl today! (Unless things get really gross - but rest assured that I will do a half-assed job that is for darn sure...)

The Core Plan

2005-02-14T15:57:00.000-07:00

Remember my New Years resolution to lose weight? Well here’s an update.

Weight Watchers: the Points Plan just did not work for me. Turns out that it was way too much of a hassle for me to track every bloody thing I ate and then look up the assigned point value for that item and then calculate the total daily points to see if I was within my allotted pointage for the day. So, I have decided to just stick with the other Weight Watchers plan – it’s called the Core Plan. As interpreted by me, the Core Plan is outlined below:

1. Have as many vegetables as you want! No really, AS MANY as you want - here have a carrot.
2. Put the Doritos DOWN! Now WALK AWAY from the Doritos!
3. WHOA! Seriously, you call that a portion? HAHAHAHA - Whew… No I don’t think so… Cut that in half and then divide by 2 and THAT will be your portion missy.
4. HELLO? What do you mean you don’t know what tofu is? No it’s not gross at all. Why don’t you try some with this carrot?
5. My you seem grumpy today… Gagged on the tofu did you? Here, have a carrot.
6. Your daily water intake should be 8-10 glasses per day, so that means you need to increase your water intake by about 8-10 glasses. No, ice cubes don’t count.
7. You may not really enjoy this plan in the beginning, we call this the detox phase – but you’ll get past it and in the mean time you can simply enjoy having very regular bowl movements.
8. Oh, couple of minor details: there will be no booze, you should cut back on the coffee intake to no more than 1 cup a day, and if it tastes good you probably can't have it.
9. And yeah, you should really get off your ass and dust off the treadmill about 3-5 times a week. And by the looks of things, *ahem, lifting weights a few times a week would probably also be a good idea…
10. Hey fatty, stop your whining! Here have a carrot.

So that is what I have been doing lately. I also have been working out. I ran 3km today and then did biceps and chest. I expect that I won’t be able to lift anything heavier than a carrot tomorrow.

Shlabby Valentine's Day

2005-02-13T21:46:00.000-07:00

100-Day Project

2005-02-09T22:27:00.000-07:00

The elementary school here celebrates the one-hundredth day of classes by having the kids (with the extensive help of their parents) bring in a project that exhibits a collection of one hundred items. It can be anything, as long as there are one hundred of them, it fits in their backpacks, and can be easily displayed.

Now I am a not the overly competitive type - but I didn’t want to be the mom of the kid who brought in the 2 rolls of pennies either. Last year, was my first experience with the 100-day project. Emma was in Grade One and my hobby du jour happened to be winemaking so and I had a bunch of corks handy.
Supplies on hand, Jack and I were inspired to craft a magnificent corkboard using - you guessed it,100 corks, a sheet of cardboard, a hot glue gun and a black sharpie.
I’m not going to lie, it took some time to complete this project but we were in good spirits. Jack and I only disagreed a few times over the layout and design of the corks and I only burned myself the once. We finished up about 2:00am and were thrilled with outcome as well as with our totally unique concept. I was so proud of our offering, because dang it, it was a pretty cool exhibit of 100 of something.

The next morning:
Me (holding up the cork board): Hey Emma, look at this! Prrretty Cooool huh?
Emma (squinting): What is it?

Jack (car salesman voice): It’s a corkboard! See, mommy and I stayed up really late to make your 100-day project for school today. See how we glued 100 corks on there? Neat-O huh?
Emma (skeptical): There’s no glitter on it.

Me: We don’t have any glitter and corkboards don’t usually have glitter anyway.
Emma (still skeptical): Well, it’s okay. I guess.

Jack (grumpy): It’s time for school let’s go.

So off went little Miss Emma to school that day with our masterpiece 100-day project in tow. When I picked her up after school, naturally I wanted to hear all about how everyone ooed and ahhed over her project.

Me (excited): So what did everyone think of your awesome corkboard?
Emma (distracted): They liked it I guess.

Me: I bet they liked the pattern huh? Did they touch all the corks?
Emma (uninterested): Ummm, I guess. Oh, Mitchell jammed a pencil in it and it stayed there.

Me (slightly irritated): Well what did the other kids bring?
Emma (loud): WELL, Katie brought one hundred of those paper birds in ALIMONY!

Me (confused): Do you mean ORIGAMI?
Emma (grumpy): YES! They were the folded paper birds and they all had GLITTER on them!!

So you do you all see what Jack and I are up against? Who the heck has the time to be folding up 100 frigging origami cranes with GLITTER? Who ARE these people? Psychos…

Anyway this year, I knew better then to invest a bunch of time and energy into this project only to be outplayed by the origami lady again. Yet I still didn’t want to be the mom that sent her kid to school with the box of 120 paperclips minus 20 of them. You know?

*** Solution = CANDY.
Our 100-day project this year:
One small Gladware container + 100 cinnamon hearts (Valentines theme) + the assembly time of 2 minutes = the BEST 100-day project EVER.

So here is how it went down when I picked up Emma from school this time around:

Me: So how was your day?
Emma (excited): Mom it was great, EVERYONE LOVED my100-day project and we all shared the candy.

Me (snickering): So everyone liked the cinnamon hearts huh?
Emma: Yes LOVED them!

Me: That’s nice – so what did everyone else bring?
Emma: Natasha brought a house made of 100 Popsicle sticks that had a backyard with a pony AND a tree in it!

Me: That sounds nice. So… what did ol’ Katie bring this year?
Emma (thinking): Oh – she brought 100 dog biscuits.

Me (shocked): What? DOG BISCUITS!?
Emma: Yeah Katie said it was a “last minute” project.

Me: HAHAHAHahahahahaha!!!

People, I am having a GOOD day!

The Lazy Spot

2005-02-08T16:51:00.000-07:00

One of Jack’s biggest pet peeves has been in regards to a place in the house he has dubbed ‘The Lazy Spot.’ Oddly enough, the location of the so-called ‘Lazy Spot’ is indeed the garage door doorknob. That’s right – the DOORKNOB.

You see, I have this CRAZY habit of gathering and rinsing out all of the empty juice boxes, milk jugs (and the odd scotch bottle) and placing them into plastic bags. Once in a bag, I will then walk through our laundry room to the door that enters into our garage and hang this bag on the doorknob of the door. I do this because the next person (usually not me because I am much, much too busy and important) who goes into the garage (Jack) will see the bag hanging there and then take said bag into the garage and empty it into the bigger container that we reserve for all of our recyclables.

Jack feels that it “wouldn’t kill me” to actually open the door and walk into the garage and empty the bag into the recycling bin - as opposed to merely hanging it on the doorknob. You see merely hanging the bag is being “lazy.” Of course a whack of empty bottles can be littering the countertop in my kitchen ALL week and go un-rinsed and un-moved, yet a bag hanging off of a doorknob is unacceptable? M’eh, actually he’s right. See, I HAVE mellowed over the years. It probably wouldn’t kill me to take the bag into the garage and empty it into the big container. So what the heck, I was all about to change my evil ways and conform to this plan but unfortunately Jack decided to he had to go and illustrate his point by doing the following:

This past August, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, I was looking out of the kitchen window and noticed Jake ‘the Shlab’ dog dragging a hacksaw across the lawn. Naturally, I freaked out because dimwitted dog + hacksaw = potential trip to the vet. So I quickly went and retrieved the hacksaw from the dog and hung it back up on the pegboard in the garage.

That night, Jack and I were lying in bed and something (his incessant tossing and turning) reminded me of the fact that I had failed to (bitch at) mention to Jack the fact that the dog could have been MAIMED because of the hacksaw being left outside – and really, how could one forget to put away a hacksaw?

Me: So what were you doing with the hacksaw today?
Jack (yawning): What?

Me: The hacksaw - the one that I found in the backyard today?
Jack: Oh I cut back the apple tree – I hope that bloody thing dies.

Me: So why did you not put the saw away? Jesus Jack, the DOG was CHEWING on it!
Jack (sitting up in bed): AHA! So you don’t LIKE it when things don’t get put away in the GARAGE where they BELONG either huh?

Me (baffled): Jack did you leave the hacksaw outside on purpose to irritate me?
Jack: Damn straight! It’s annoying isn’t it?

Me: I suppose that this is all because the bag of recycling hanging off of the garage doorknob isn’t it?
Jack (huffy): Well it isn’t much to ask to take the bag into the garage … I mean really.

Me (sigh): You are a twit.
Jack: So, did you put the hacksaw away in the garage?

Me: No.
Jack (concerned): What? Well where is it?

Me: It’s under the bed. Good night dear.

********************
(Disclaimer: neither Jack nor myself would ever leave a sharp pointy tool outside in reach of our kids – they were away at the grandparents being spoiled and pampered that weekend. The dog – well, I am surprised he has made it this long being that he also eats the soap out of the bathroom if we don’t put it away.)

After twelve years...

2005-02-04T15:12:00.000-07:00

After twelve years of active participation in any relationship the following situations have likely occurred: One person has tried to change the other person and has failed miserably, both parties have at one point threatened to leave or worse - have suggested marriage counseling. Both have slept on the couch, both have not spoken and then have left nasty voice mail messages or notes – and both have at one point had to dig way deep down inside the centre of their beings to find that extra little bit of patience and understanding that was needed to prevent a potential murder suicide (PMS) situation. There has been nagging, oh yes, a plethora of nagging AND there has also been an abundance of psychoanalyzing (or so he says.) Hurtful things have been shouted and then instantly regretted, eyes have been rolled, doors have been slammed, and the snoring of one party (coughJackahem) has at one point been an issue.

That being said, after twelve years, I really think Jack and I have pretty much fought our best fights and in doing so have learned how to compromise and to breathe and to just let things go. Our major issues have been hashed out and put away neatly. We have grown up a lot, mellowed out a bit, and learned to appreciate and to respect each other immensely. (FYI: having kids really helped to speed up that learning process...)

So what does that leave after twelve years in a relationship when you don't really fight anymore? Well I’ll tell you - it leaves bickering or as I like to refer to it - as “keeping the magic alive.”

JACK: Why does she fail to notice the sticker EVERY time? There’s a Goddamned STICKER on the bloody windshield of her car, for Christ sake, that SAYS when the next oil change is due – yet here we are MONTHS after the indicated oil change due date and has there been an oil change on her car? NO there has NOT! GRUMBLE…

ME: Why can’t he for GOD sake, just fold the clothes when the dryer buzzes instead of letting them get cold and SO damn wrinkly that I need to iron every SINGLE item – like I don’t have enough to do already that I need to iron every single piece of clothing that I own – because SOMEONE couldn’t take the THREE minutes to fold the clothes while they were still warm. HMPH!

And they lived happily ever after.

A couple for the grandparents - it can't be ALL about me...

2005-01-26T20:42:00.000-07:00

More Snow Fun

Matthew & Emma had a great time sledding this past weekend.

2005-01-26T20:41:00.000-07:00

Got Snow?

A Roadtrip With The Folks

2005-01-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

A few months ago my mother called to inform me that my aunt had passed away and that the memorial would be in Sechelt B.C. on the weekend. Sad news but not overly shocking as she had not been doing very well over the past couple of years. My father thought it would be best if we all drove to Vancouver (13 hours) and then we could take the ferry (3 hours) over to Sechelt. A sixteen hour drive - to attend a memorial - sounds fun right? So now then how about a little road trip with the folks?
My parents are both highly educated, witty, intelligent, and wonderful people but there is something about driving anywhere with them for any length of time that makes me want to gauge my eyes out with a rusty butter knife.
Oh-nooo... I feel some flashbacks coming…

Driving with them - Flashback #1
In the summer of 1989, we took a family vacation to Kelowna, B.C. I was 16 and I distinctly remember thinking that my parents were trying to ruin my life by dragging me along on some lame vacation specifically when my best friend Dawn’s parents had already said that I could stay with them for the week. SO, I didn’t even have to go! My parents made me go with them anyway and naturally I hated them for it. I was also sure that that slut Tracey was probably going to take this opportunity to try and steal my boyfriend away while I was gone. Proof in itself that my parents were ruining my life.

To say that my father is a pretty thrifty guy is a huge understatement. The man never and I mean NEVER pays retail. He can smell a sale like a shark smells a drop of blood in the ocean and he knows how to maximize coupon usage to achieve the cheapest possible solution – to do otherwise would be wasting his hard earned money. Now if he can meet all of the afore mentioned criteria and the establishment also happens to be giving something away FOR FREE as a promotion, well my father is camping out for some of that action.

At the time, there was this “free with fill” promotion going on at a local gas station that also conveniently offered bonus airmiles as well. My mother and I were instructed by my father to ONLY gas up at that location until we were notified differently. The “free with fill” items were these cassette tapes, of the ‘you can collect them all’ musical compilation variety entitled: The Best Hits of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s etc.

Me: Dad can I borrow the car?
My Father: Do you have five bucks for gas?

Me: Sigh… Yeah.
My Father: Okay here’s another ten dollars. Make sure that you fill up at the gas station on 149 Street and make sure you get the airmiles and this week’s tape.

Me (groan): Okay.
My Father: Oh and here use this coupon – it’s for a free wash.

We were about an hour into the nine hour drive to Kelowna, B.C. We were coming up to Red Deer, when my dad pulled out the big tape cassette holder briefcase, you remember the kind lined in red velvet on the inside. I shuddered. My father announced that it now was time for us to be entertained by the complete set of the “free with fill” tapes. At 16, surprisingly, I wasn’t really into ‘the best of the classics’ type of music. To tell you the truth, even now when I hear the Big Bopper bellow “Hellooooo Baby! You know what I like!” I die a little on the inside…

So for the next 4 hours:
My Father (two notes into the song): Do you know who this is?
My Mother: Sounds like Buddy Holly?
My Father (shaking his head): Not even close, this is THE GREAT Roy Orbison. I have to tell you this sounds great! Cathy, doesn’t this sound great?

My Mother (for the millionth time): Yes dear, it sounds pretty good.
My Father: You would think that free music would be of inferior quality but I have to say this is sounding great. Oh, Do you know who this is?

My Mother: Sounds like Ritchie Valens?
My Father: Are you kidding me, this is THE GREAT… and so on…

My Mother: Lexa, this is the music that probably inspired the groups you listen to today. Like those Jalapeno Peppers.
Me (losing my mind): It’s the RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS – UGH!

Driving with them - Flashback #2
My Father will tell you that he is a superior driver. I would call him an aggressive driver. My Mother could provide you with many more colorful names for my father depending on the situation but that’s neither here nor there.

My Mother (looking over): Jesus Paul, slow down.
My Father (grumpy): I wouldn’t have to slow down if we would have been out of the house at 8:00am like we were suppose to. Now we are WAY off schedule.

My Mother: I’m sorry, WHO couldn’t find his wallet?
My Father: You have to quit moving my stuff. If you wouldn’t move my stuff it would have been where I left it.

My Mother: Paul, I didn’t touch your wallet and where you left it was in with the dry cleaning.
My Father: Exactly!

My Mother (looking out the window as a red car went speeding past): Just look at that idiot – he is going to kill someone.
My Father (giddy): AHA! There’s my rabbit – heehee!

Definition of a rabbit: An idiot driver who is speeding excessively while driving down the highway, thus permitting a superior driver to follow closely behind said idiot driver without risk of getting a speeding ticket. Naturally the police will spot and pull over the idiot driver thereby giving the superior driver enough time to slow down avoiding penalty and give a little wave to the idiot driver while the police officer is issuing his speeding ticket.

Driving with them - Flashback #3:
The family dog, Licorice was a cute little poodle terrier unit who also happened to have a severe doggie car ride-a-phobia. We knew this, so during extended car trips my mother would go out of her way to cater to the dog’s comfort and emotional well-being. She would pack up the dog’s dish, toys, chew bones, a baggie full of treats, a bottle of water, the leash, a few more treats, the dog’s pills, the dog’s brush, a package of chicken wieners (because the dog had one chicken wiener every day with her dinner for 17 years), a couple of balls, and the dog’s blanket. She would create a special area in the back seat of the car for the dog to sit. She would spread out the dog’s little blanket and arrange the dog’s favorite toys and throw down some treats and finally she would put the dog in its nest like designated area. The car would start to move and Lic the dog would stiffen up and start to shake and pant profusely every now and then emitting a deep guttural moan.

My Mother (soothing): My goodness Lic calm down. It’s oookay. Gooood dog. Lexa, pat Lic and tell her it’s okay.
Me (sigh + petting the dog): Good dog.

My Mother (reaching back and grabbing the dog): Okay come here Lic, you silly old girl.
Lic: pant, pant, pant, shake, wince, shiver, pant…

My Mother: Stop it Lic, you’re fogging up the windows. It’s oookay. Paul, look at this dog. Does she look okay to you?
My Father: She’s fine. Good Lic. Calm down. Good dog. Give her a cookie.

Lic: pant, pant, wheeze, pant, moan.

My Mother (concerned): She won’t eat the cookie. Look at this dog. I can’t believe you Lic, it’s like she’s having a bloody seizure. Look how much she’s shedding – Oh! There’s dog hair everywhere now.
My Father (irritated): Lic! Calm down Lic!

My Mother (worried): Do you think she has to go outside? Lic, do you have to get going? Go for a pee outside?

My Father: We are NOT stopping again until Jasper. The dog is fine.

Today:
At the ripe old age of 31, I have to tell you that I definitely vetoed the 16 hour drive to Sechelt B.C. with my parents. I once had to have a procedure called a sigmoidoscopy. I won’t get into the particulars but let’s just say it involved about three feet of fiberoptic tubing, my ass, and 100psi of air to ‘inflate’ the area so that the doctor could poke around and check things out. That being said, if I was forced to choose between reliving that procedure, or driving to Sechelt B.C. with my parents – well, pass me the hospital gown…

My Father: We can get out of town early, nice scenic drive – it’ll be fun. Remember that nice trip to Kelowna we took when you were in high school?
Me: Yeah so, I’m going to catch a flight. I’ll see you people there.

Sometimes it is nice to be a grown-up.

Jake the Shlab is getting “tutored”

2005-01-19T11:46:00.000-07:00

Last night’s telephone conversation with my mother.

My mother (laughing): So what has that free dog of yours wrecked today?
Me (tired): Oh, let’s see… a deck of cards, and it looks like he got into something black…

My Mother: Black? What?
Me: I don’t know there are just these itty-bitty black pieces of something all over the floor.

My Mother: What do you think it could be?
Me (concerned): I have no idea.

My Mother: Well what do they look like?
Me (irritated): Little bitty pieces of hard black plastic!

Emma (calling to me from the den): Mom! I can’t find my Sleeping Beauty movie.

Me (cringing): Ohhh nooo…

My Mother: What? What is she looking for?
Me: Mystery solved.

Emma (from the den): Hey there’s a bunch of black tape behind the couch….
*Rustle, Rustle, rustle….

Emma (shrieking): MOM!!! JAKE ATE MY MOVIE! JAKE IS RUINING MY LIFE!

My Mother (matter of fact): You need to get that free dog of yours fixed.
Me (crabby): I KNOW!

* Appointment is booked for January 28th.
Lick ‘em while you got ‘em Jakey-boy.

The Actual Cause Of Mad Cow Disease:

2005-01-14T14:58:00.000-07:00

7:00am yesterday morning.

Me (freaked out edgy voice): Hello???
Assistant from work (apologetic): Sorry to wake you – just calling to let you know that I won’t be at work today.

Me (looking at the clock & trying to sound polite): S’okay I was up. You know, you can just send an email. I mean, I’m glad you called but you don’t have to call, you can send me an email. Just for next time… you know? Never mind, nothing that comes out of my mouth before 7:30am makes any sense…
AFW: Yes I know, I just figured you wouldn’t be in either – what with the school busses not running and the daycare being closed due to the extreme weather conditions.

Me (sitting up fully in bed): The busses aren’t running? The daycare is closed? Jeez! What’s the temperature out?
AFW: Well, It’s –40c out here at the farm but I’d say close to –58c with the wind chill.

Cow: Mooooooooooooooo!

Me (groggy): What? Is that mooing in the background?
AFW: Fraid so. I’m actually calling from my cell phone. Me and the husband are out in the field with the blow torch trying to melt the cow’s water so they can get a drink.

Me (damn that sucks voice): Really? Damn...That sucks! What do you do with the cows when it gets this cold?
AFW: Nothing, they just huddle together and pretty much freeze their knackers off.

Cow: Moooo…jesus…christ…moooooooooooo!

Me (giddy): So I guess it’s a snow day then. Well at least the kids will be thrilled. Stay warm and see you tomorrow! Oh, and good luck with the blow torching. Boy, you farm people are sure tough folk.
AFW (teeth chattering): You bet, stay warm!

Cow: Motherfuckingmoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!

Site Update

2005-01-12T10:40:00.000-07:00

I have added my new Gmail address, lexagirl@gmail.com, to my profile. I would like to thank the newly engaged AnonymousCoworker http://anonymouscoworker.blogspot.com/ for the invite. Gmail is indeed pretty spiffy – thanks dude.

That being said, I really enjoy receiving email that isn’t about where I can get the cheapest Viagra online, so please, send me an email if the fancy hits you. Or you can leave a comment, or not - whatever, it’s not like I’m begging, or that I didn’t feel loved enough as a child or anything. Did I ever mention that I am an only child?

FYI: I had to break up with my site meter. Yeah that’s right, I had to take that bad boy down. Seemed the blasted thing was interfering with my life in a negative and unproductive way. Picture me compulsively checking to see how many people have read my latest post and you are getting warm. Add to that, me then getting irritated because, wait a minute, 13 seconds isn’t long enough to read that post and then being miffed at Mr. IP address# 123. 456. 789 - you had better come back here and finish the story buddy – don’t you recognize pure genius when you read it?

So anyway, now all three of you who read my drivel can be secure in the knowledge that I am not stalking you anymore…

That’s it.

Daddy says...

2005-01-10T22:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend my father, my daughter and I went on a trip to the big city to take advantage of some of the boxing week sales. Oddly enough I found the selection at Extra Foods and the SAAN store here in town a little limited. Anyway, we are driving through a city called St.Albert when my daughter piped up from the back seat.

Emma: I don't like driving through St. Albert.
Me: Hmmm? Why not?

Emma: Daddy says all the people here drive like retards.

Grampa (nearly choking on a sip of coffee): Ahem... Cough... What sweetie?
Emma (matter of fact): Well it's like this Papa, see all these people driving down the road? They're retards!

Me (shocked): Emma! That is NOT a nice thing to say.
Emma (indignant): Well Daddy says that they are!

Me (mortified): The things that come out of her mouth... Emma, I am sure Daddy didn't mean what he said. He probably just got angry when he was driving because someone cut him off or something.
Grampa (soothing): Emma sometimes people can lose their patience when they drive and get angry and maybe say things that they don't mean.

Emma: Like swears?
Grampa: Sure, or just not nice things to say about other people and they do have a lot photo radar in this area.
Emma: Okay.

Emma: Papa what is photo radar?
Grampa: Well it's when this guy hides in his van and then takes mean pictures of Papa's van as he is driving by and then he sends him a bill in the mail for $118.00.

Emma: Yeah Daddy says those guys are sneaky bastards.

Shlabby And His Barbie Fetish

2005-01-05T19:55:00.000-07:00

What would Ken say about this?

Resolutions: Past and Present

2005-01-04T00:33:00.000-07:00

Okay it’s time to come clean. Deep breath okay, here goes. I’m not perfect. Nope, not even close. I mean, I suppose that I am okay and I that do fairly well in some areas, and even excel in a few select others, but for the most part I am your standard run-of-the-mill flawed human being.

That being said, I do like New Year resolutions. Yes, even when/if they get broken. Why? For the simple fact that for one day a year you are encouraged to open your eyes, I mean really open them and take a good look at what is going on with yourself and the world around you. You can then assess the situation and make a conscious choice to try something different, even if it is only for a few days. I believe that is truly a positive concept.

So before I post about my current resolution (yes only one, just keepin’ it real people) for 2005. I wanted to go over what went down in 2004.

New Years Resolution 2004: Horrible flawed non-perfect human problem. Smoking.

My success rate for quitting smoking up until last year had been 0-3. I had started and stopped a few times. I was getting pretty good at quitting but not so good at staying quit. I quit during both of my pregnancies; I quit when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I also quit for about five minutes back in University that time when I went out with that guy, oh, let’s call him Jeff, who so adamantly hated smokers that he tried to make me choose between going out with him or smoking. I believe Jeff’s exact words to me were “It’s my way or the highway.” So naturally I lit up a smoke and told the bastard to hit the road.

Anyway, the week leading up to New Years 2004, I psyched myself up about quitting. I chain smoked right up until the bitter end. I stubbed out the last cigarette at approximately 11:59pm. I then promptly went to bed very excited and truly committed to being a non-smoker, oh yeah, and the wine had hit me pretty hard so I needed to lie down.

I woke up the next morning feeling none too perky and then the realization set in – that’s right today I don’t smoke anymore. I hid in bed for another hour. Then Jack made me get up. It was at that moment that I decided to hate him for the next few days and make him suffer.

I am not going to lie, it really sucked. I was mad and grumpy and emotional even the dog was avoiding me like the plague, unlike Jack, she knew when to lie low.
Exactly four days later, with a scowl on my face and shaky hands, I ventured out to the grocery store and promptly bought a pack of cigarettes.

I remember sitting in my car and just looking at the package. After about fifteen minutes of trying to justify to myself how I could have just one and none would ever know, I had to admit that I needed help with those bloody cravings. I went back in the store and bought some Nicorettes and on my way out threw away the package of cigarettes.

For those of you who don’t know, Nicorettes is the nicotine gum that is supposed to help you get through the kind of moments like I had just experienced. Once I was back in the safety of my car, I ripped open the package popped a piece of gum in my mouth and started to chew the hell out of it. The effect was horrifying – it promptly made me gag, sweat profusely, and I even got the spins. It’s a good thing I hadn’t eaten yet because I would have most likely sprayed down the interior of my car with puke. The Nicorettes were awful, the most vile thing ever, ugh… Fruit flavor my ass! With the delicacy of a major leaguer, I lugied the gum out the window and crammed the rest of the offensive smoking cessation aids in my purse. I spent the next 10 minutes cussing to myself for throwing away a perfectly good pack of cigarettes for this putrid Nicorettes crap.

A couple of hours later, I wigged out at Jack because he had improperly loaded the dishwasher by placing the bowls where the cups should go. I mean come on, it’s like the man was blatantly going out of his way to drive me nuts! I realized, while I was haughtily rearranging the dirty dishes to their correct dishwasher locations that I could possibly be experiencing another one of those silly little “nicotine cravings.” I remembered the Nicorettes were in my purse and went and got the box. This time I stopped and read the directions. Wouldn’t you know it, it seems that you have to chew the rancid gum slowly… well okay then. I chewed… slowly… and it didn’t taste quite so vile.

Thus began my love affair with the Nicorettes. I basically ended up chewing the gum a lot. It started out innocently enough, as per the directions on the box, but ended up – well never ending. The plan was to chew the gum for a few weeks to get me over the bumpy bit and then, well stop chewing, see good plan right?

Not only Jack, but also other people began to notice that I was always chewing the nicotine gum and not actually progressing to the stage when you stop chewing. I remember thinking that they were all being absurd. I mean I smoked for years, so of course it would take a bit longer to get it under control. Stop chewing? Are you people nuts? Yes my jaw ached and I now seemed to get these weird tension headaches, but stop chewing? Hell No!

It shames me to admit this but I would actually start to freak out a little if I was down to my last couple of pieces of Nicorettes. I would then resort to rationing them by cutting them in halves until I could get to the store to buy more gum. Jack used to joke that I would have to go on the patch to get off the Nicorettes. Ha-Ha.

So basically, I chewed my way through January, February, March, and April. By May even I had to admit that the whole Nicorettes thing might possibly be an issue. I was really afraid that I would start smoking again if I stopped chewing the blasted gum. I went to my doctor. I secretly hoped that he would tell me about some shocking new study where by Nicorettes was found to be more harmful than actual smoking and he would simply recommend that I light up immediately. Unfortunately he just commented (with raised eyebrows) that I should definitely get off of the nicotine gum pronto and he suggested another smoking cessation aid called Zyban. I asked about the patch – but something about if I still “accidentally” chewed the nicotine gum while wearing the nicotine patch might possibly result in a massive heart attack or some such thing, so the Zyban route may be a better option for me. I know some people have mixed opinions about Zyban but I will say, that for me, it must have helped because I finally gave up my precious Nicorettes for good on May 31st, which was also the annual world no-tobacco day, it seemed fitting.

I guess that technically I can now celebrate one year without a cigarette and believe me I am very proud of that, but I think I will also celebrate again on May 31st. Might even get me a pack of Trident and remember the good ol’ days.
So yay me! Last year I quit smoking and now I am a 300 pound alcoholic, but whatever…

Segway into New Years Resolution 2005: Horrible flawed non-perfect human problem resulting from two childbirths and last year’s resolution: Weight loss.

I got on an actual scale and took actual measurements. Okay realistically it is not that awful but it turns out that the amount I need to lose is a tad bit more substantial than I had predicted (damn rum & eggnogs.) So the reason I haven’t been posting for a few days is because of the Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and the fact that counting points and tracking every bloody thing you eat is a bit time consuming. I am in fact doing the Weight Watchers Points thing but I would not be surprised if I have to go on Atkins to get off the Weight Watchers. Ha-Ha.

But, so far so good. Knock on, dammit - laminated wood look surface.

Why are you crying mommy?

2004-12-28T21:28:00.000-07:00

Emma: Why are you crying mommy?

Me: Mommy was watching something very sad on TV.

Emma (gives me a big hug and pats my back): There, there, you are all better now.

Me: Mommy is very lucky to have such a special little girl who gives such good hugs – thank you sweetie.

Emma: Maybe you should stop watching the TV if it makes you so sad.

Me: Emma you are right sweetie, let’s go on the computer and see if we can send the people in Asia a big hug also.

Emma: Okay, but after can I go to Polly Pocket Dot Com?

Me: Sure baby.

http://www.redcross.ca/article.asp?id=011440&tid=001

http://www.unicef.org/

https://www1.worldvision.ca/CampaignsSecDM2.nsf/Asia+Earthquake04?OpenForm&id=02994598

http://www.kintera.org/atf/cf/%7BA54B526F-06CB-4D53-8A37-C33976730CAB%7D/dwb.htm

Den Reno Pics

2004-12-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

See a little time off from work: presto Lexa finally gets around to posting crap that she promised to post a month ago - I know, shocking!

Okay so we haven't ordered the area rug yet.
So in the mean time we are just going with presents and this big tree - which I think, really compliments the room.

2004-12-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

At this point it is really late and I am trying to convince Jack that we should just put up the last of the baseboard using this big spotlight for lighting. Jack is not overly impressed with me but we keep working.

2004-12-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

Jack telling me to put down the camera and help him move some other bloody heavy thing...

2004-12-27T14:33:00.000-07:00

New flooring...

2004-12-27T14:32:00.000-07:00

Lots & Lots of primer...

2004-12-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

Progress - new lovely patio doors - YAY!

2004-12-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

Den before pic:
Obviously we have the room cleared and taped and poly-filled and we have commenced sanding walls- note all the dust in the air. Also, there is the lovely stained grey carpeting I was telling you about.
Just look at all that wood paneling - yep awesome ain't it?

Lexa's Christmas List

2004-12-23T10:58:00.000-07:00

1. The number of dollars I’ve spent on presents: LOTS, stupid holiday commercialism…

2. The number of presents still to be wrapped: 12

3. The number of paper cuts from wrapping presents: 2

4. The number of hairs pulled out while standing in line to pay of Christmas presents while holding a screaming 2-year old: 87

5. The number of grey hairs discovered in said 87 hairs pulled: 80 – sigh…

6. The number of screaming 2-year olds: just the 1, THANK GOD

7. The number of festive snack platters assembled by yours truly: 3

8. The number of boxes of chocolates single-handedly eaten by me: 2 (okay, 3)

9. The number of Christmas cards sent out: 0 – yeah I suck… Hope all my friends & relatives enjoyed my two-liner “Happy Holidays” email.

10. The number of items per day that my daughter Emma adds to her Christmas list to Santa: 1 per every commercial seen = roughly 3 per hour…

11. The number of items Jake the Shlab has destroyed thus far today: 2 (1 bathtub plug & 1 Christmas tree ornament.)

12. The number of treats Jake will be getting from me today: 0, ZIP, ZILCH. NADA…

13. The number of times I have said the phrase “Be good Santa is watching.” to my children this week: 2134

14. The number of rum & eggnogs consumed by myself this week: 7 (okay, 17)

15. The number of calories per every 1 rum & eggnog beverage: 500 – ah, crap…

16. The number of days left until my diet and exercise regime commences: 8

17. The number of rum & eggnogs yet to be consumed by yours truly: probably a good 8 days worth…

Happy Holidays Blogworld!

Santa!

2004-12-21T22:01:00.000-07:00

Santa & Matthew

Well, pretty damn close to sainthood...

2004-12-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

Except that I am a chubbier whiter version of course - and my nose is much cuter - oh yeah, and I am a woman in her early thirties and okay, not dead- but aside from that the similarities are just mind boggling.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

I am a saint people, a SAINT!

2004-12-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Super Shlab

2004-12-14T23:08:00.000-07:00

So apparently, German Shepards rank third as most intelligent breed of dog and Labrador Retrievers rank 7th. http://www.petrix.com/dogint/1-10.html

Naturally, one would assume that a union between these two breeds would beget a genetically superior dog with remarkable intelligence. So when the following email went around my workplace FREE to a good home Lab/ Shepard cross puppies. The word FREE really should have tipped me off!

You see for reasons stated above I was under the impression that Sheppard /Lab cross i.e. Shlab, would ultimately prove to be a genetically superior breed of dog. This dog would be able to herd, retrieve, predict earthquakes with remarkable accuracy, perform advanced mathematics and perhaps also prepare my income tax returns. I actually had grandiose visions of getting requests for assistance from the RCMP - for example: Pardon me officer? Did you say that little Timmy fell down the well? Well you tell him Jake the Super Shlab is on his way!

I have to be honest here I now have reason to believe that Jake the Super Shlab, though incredible cute, may actually rank down there intelligence-wise with the "I eat my own feces" Shih-Tzu. Sigh...

Take last night for example: This god-awful noise woke me up out of a dead sleep. A-flippa-flippa-bang-scrabble-scrabble-thud-YIPE! And it was coming from the upstairs bathroom. I got up in a panic, because that sound at 3:00am evokes such behavior, and sprinted into the bathroom only to discover that Super Shlab had trapped himself in the bathtub. The little shit effectively ripped down the shower curtain and then proceeded to get himself all tangled up in it. Let me tell you, there is just nothing more pathetic in this world than the sight of a dog wrapped up in a shower curtain with a bar of soap in his mouth trying frantically to get out of the bathtub.

Being a wee bit concerned that my dog had eaten half a bar of soap, I made sure that Super Shlab had a big long drink of water. When he was done drinking there were actual bubbles in the water dish. Is there a support group out there for this kind of thing?
Yep, Doggy Einstein he just ain't. Obviously we have some recessive genes at work here.

Never trust a seven-year-old

2004-12-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

While I was folding laundry in the den.

Emma (running into the den from the kitchen): Mom, me & Matthew are playing wading pool, okay?
Me: What? No,no,no! That sounds too messy. Why don't you colour or something instead?

Emma (rolling her eyes): It's just pretend mom.
Me: Okay, as long as it is pretend.

Emma: Yep, it is.

Me (suspicious): Emma, NO running the water from ANY room or taking ANYTHING out of the fridge.
Emma (running back into the kitchen): Okay mom!

Emma(from the kitchen): Matthew lets roll up your pants buddy!
Matthew: heeheehee...wat-ter.

Splish Splash Splash, Heeheehee,
SPLASH! SPLOOSH!

Me(walking into the kitchen): What the?

Me(shocked): Emma and Matthew! Get out of the dog's water dish NOW!

Emma (defensive): MOM! I asked and you said okay!
Me (irate): Emma, you said you were going to play PRETEND wading pool, so what are you and you brother doing standing in the dog's water dish?

Emma (shrill): Mom, it's just a PROP! JEEZ!

Watch the hair buddy.

2004-12-06T09:09:00.000-07:00

Jack: So I see you are doing an 80’s thing with your hair today.
Me(aghast): Pardon me?

Jack: Well it is kind of flippy in the front there, it looks cute but a little flippy – is all I’m saying.
Me(deep breath): Did you want to rephrase your last statement hunny?

Jack: You look beautiful dear.
Me: And?

Jack: I love you.

Traction Control

2004-12-02T16:36:00.000-07:00

There are many things in this world that cause me to laugh uncontrollably but watching my beloved dog Jake adjust to the new flooring is now ranks right up there in the top 10 for me.

I walked into the house today at lunch just in time to witness a furry blur slide right by me and slam into the wall emitting a shrill “yipe.” Jake then attempted to shake off the embarrassment of his nose first collision with the wall. Unfortunately, the shaking process created further velocity and momentum that he obviously wasn’t expecting. This resulted in a nicely executed but poorly landed half gainer with a twist. Another scrabbley attempt to get up on all fours resulted in splayed legs each pointed in a different direction and then another nose first encounter with the floor.

At this point I intervened I helped him up to a shaky standing position. He just stood there, tail down, ears back and glared at me. Then he cautiously turned and walked gingerly out of the room with a click, click, slip, click, click, slip, slip.

Jake is just fine. He enjoyed a few more lunchtime treats than usual & a couple of reassuring neck scratches and head pats from me once we reached the safety of the linoleum. I am hoping that he learned enough about traction control today to prevent any future ass over teakettle experiences involving the laminate flooring.

It was pretty funny though.
Heeheehee, whew…

Swedish for divorce

2004-11-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

Jack and I are currently testing the boundaries of our relationship. I mean, we renovating our den. (FYI: the construction aspect is okay but assembling the IKEA entertainment unit was in fact Swedish for DIVORCE!)

The den was a horribly disgusting room all around. It had a horrid carpet and horrid paint and horrid wall paneling. In a nutshell it was very seventies - but not in the cool retro way – more like that *blech, shabby, gross way. Mental image for you: baby blue paint + dismal grey carpeting that had seen better days and then we got a puppy (need I say more) + icky wood paneling + an ancient old sliding patio door that was essentially broken so you had ease it open inch by painful inch to get outside. Sound nice?

Jack’s parents got us started by coming over and installing the new garden doors that we had sitting in our garage for over a year waiting to be installed. Of course, the doors were then too nice for the room so we were forced (in a good way) to continue the process. We tore out the carpet, painted walls, and are now installing the new laminate flooring. So far so good, knock on um, laminated wood type surface.

But of course the house is now in complete shambles. Furniture and loads and loads of crap are stacked randomly all over the kitchen and living room. Add the mix two dogs and two kids to and well it equals complete and utter chaos. Thus far, our relationship is holding and we haven’t had too many “disagreements” while working side by side in one room for 3 days straight – with mallets & power tools & and sharp pointy things. It was tense there a few times but we pulled through. Ultimately, I had to accept that due to my “lack of experience” with anything related to construction, that I would have to be delegated a bunch of lame-ass, crap jobs. Like: pulling staples out of sub-flooring, being a human paperweight, holding and passing tools, and shop-vaccing saw dust and other debris. On the plus side, I got to wear foamy purple kneepads.

Now for a little payback, much to Jack’s chagrin, I have advised him that the furniture we had in that room may be no longer good enough to remain in that room. In fact, said furniture may have to be demoted to basement furniture status. Though Jack is strongly “encouraging” me not to go off on any wild shopping tangents – I may have to pick up a few new items to spruce things up a bit…

I have a credit card and a computer – that combo makes me a dangerous woman indeed (insert maniacal laugh.)

Wish us luck & I hope to have some pictures to share soon!

Not that I'm bitter...

2004-11-26T11:56:00.000-07:00

I wish someone would have been kind enough to have explained to me that once I became a mother, that I would never be aloud to get sick EVER again. That would have been a nice little tid-bit of information to have been aware of. I could have at least prepared better – at the very least I might have begun a hearty vitamin regiment or gotten myself bubble to live in.

Recently, I was very ill with the flu. As you all know, the human body’s response to the flu virus is to FLUSH it out. For me this process was a complete evacuation of everything and anything that I had consumed during the past year at a very, very rapid rate. I will spare you the gory details, but I will say that at one point I passed out cold on the bathroom floor next to the toilet. I have to say, that it does kind of irritate me that I did not even have any of the hazy, drunken, speaker dancing memories to go along with all of the retching and bathroom floor sleeping experience. SO not fair! Oh, and a little FYI - it sucks WAY worse to be completely sober and heaving your guts out all night because you are simply more AWARE of every little nuance involved with the overall experience.

The next day I was terribly weak, shaky, achy, and even small sips of water evoked my gag reflex. Every time would attempt to stand, I would promptly break out in a cold sweat. As wave after wave of nausea hit me, my shaky legs could barely get me to the toilet fast enough to pay further homage to the porcelain gods.

Of course this timely experience happened when Jack was away at work. Just like when the pipes in the house burst, my car broke down, the hot water tank died and many other fun filled moments that I got to describe to Jack via voice mail on his cell phone – not that I’m bitter.
I suppose because crap like that happened and because I was forced to deal with said crap, that I am now a stronger woman because of it. A woman who, I might add knows where the water shut off valve is, how to light a pilot light, and how to use Jack’s air compressor. I am a little disgusted to admit that, I did not learn any of these handy skills at University. Can you believe that a forty thousand dollar education does not include one bloody class on what to do when water is gushing through your basement ceiling? Dammit! I want a refund!

Anyway back to my pity party - the next morning when I could barely stand up, I was quite dismayed when it became inherently obvious that the children still needed me for things like you know, surviving in this world for yet another day. *Sigh – the nerve of them, I know!

So exactly when do I get to suffer in peace? When do I get to lie down and have someone bring me medicine, glasses of water and dare I say even a bowl of soup? When do I get to do nothing except just recover? Well, apparently the answer is NEVER! NEVER, EVER AGAIN! Not that I am bitter, just wish I would have know that…

So now Jack is home from work and is currently and predictably sick with the flu.
It is probably not surprising to the other mothers out there that the extent of my sympathy for the man is as follows:

Aw hun, I’m sorry you are sick now take an Advil and get your ASS out of bed!

Hmm, apparently I may in fact be a little bitter.

Alberta Votes 2004

2004-11-22T20:42:00.000-07:00

11 years we have now suffered!! PLEASE - let it end...
(Now I know what it feels like to be have been a Democrat in Texas.)

2004-11-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

If you can't say anything nice - just write it down and tape it to your door...

Mission Impossible

2004-11-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

My mission on Sunday was simple: laundry, shopping, and of course play with my darling children. Because of reasons pertaining to national security I can only now finally disclose the events of Sunday November 14, 2004.

Stage 1
RE: Chipping away at the Mt. Everest of a laundry pile.
Status: Mission aborted.

On my third and final attempt to physically leave the childproofed family room that contained my children I managed to make it all the way to the laundry area. As I commenced the folding of the clothing ritual I heard a series of blood-curdling shrieks that actually shook the house and caused the dogs ears to bleed.

Naturally, I hurdled the three baby gates that separated me from the family room at an Olympic pace. My two-year old son Matthew was holding the torso of my daughter's favorite Mermaid Barbie doll in his right hand and the tail fin along with a bit of pink Mermaid Barbie doll hair in his left. As he showed me the carnage he stated "Oh-oh, bwoken." My daughter had sunk to her knees on the carpet and had begun flailing her arms dramatically over her head. "Why Mommy? Waahaahyy?!"

Obviously doing the laundry was proving to be to damn risky. I made the quick call to switch over to the main event of the day, the grocery shopping. It is amazing how a pot and a half of coffee mixed in with a little cabin fever will make you feel idiotically brave.

Stage 2
RE: Endure public humiliation while gathering foodstuff for my family.

I piled the kids into the car - the overall mood was eerily calm. We reached the Extra Foods supermarket incident free and all in high spirits. It wasn't until we were inside the store and had begun to proceed leisurely towards the produce aisle when things started to go horribly, horribly wrong.

Out of his peripheral vision, Matthew had spotted the cookie aisle. My futile efforts to distract him with my keys, cell phone, and every other item in my purse had been easily thwarted. Matthew's little body contorted and he began to bounce spastically and point his chubby arms in the cookie aisle direction. He soon realized that mom was still proceeding in the wrong direction away from the cookies. Matthew then upped the ante by trying to launch himself out of the little seat at the front of the shopping cart. During the struggle that ensued between us, his boots dropped to the floor with an ominous thud, thud. Because I was apparently not going to release him from the confines of his shopping car seat prison, the little devil spawn then decided to summon the dark side.

That is when the screaming began.

I was awed by the both the quality of pitch and timber of the sound that erupted like lava from out of the little mouth of my son. "WAAAANNNAAA COOOOKIE!"
I soon succumbed to the sheer loudness of the deafening noise and had to resort to desperate measures. Admitting defeat to the entire store, I opened a box of unpaid for cookies in front of the horrified group of onlookers who had gathered. I heard a few audible Tsks but the pregnant lady and her spouse who were picking out cake mix just stared at me, mouth agape. Welcome to your future people. That's right, take a good, long, hard look.

Immediately peace was restored.

I managed to actually pick out a few more items before I noticed the utter filth that was my post-cookie son. I am thoroughly amazed how one two year old, plus one Oreo cookie, plus the elapsed time of one minute, equals Armageddon. It seriously looked like he had been dunked in chocolate syrup and then gingerly rolled in coffee grounds. I am not sure how pieces of Oreo ended up in my hair, the little bugger must have flung cookie bits while I was reading the nutritional contents label on the pasta sauce. I retrieved my emergency stash of baby wipes from my purse and managed to swipe away most of the horror and pick the worst of the cookie globs out of my hair.

Shopping tentatively resumed.

The world came to an abrupt halt five minutes later when Emma shrieked a squeaky shriek that, once again, caused every other shopper in the vicinity to turn and gawk in our direction. Of course, they also kindly bestowed upon me a further assortment of disapproving glares. Reason for shriek: Emma had spotted the toy aisle. Immediately, Emma was as my side looking at me with those big, big, BIG eyes. I could deduce from that knowing look the she was sizing me up. As if on queue, with the skill and charisma of that guy who sells the spray-on-hair in a can on the shopping channel, Emma hit me with the dreaded sales pitch. "Mommmyyy? LOOK AT THIS!" The packaged doll she was holding up had a grotesquely sized head and appeared to be dressed up as a prostitute. I cringed. "MOM! These are AWESOME! Can I have this one little thing? PLEASE? Rebecca has one!" The fate of her childhood obviously depended entirely on this purchase. I would undoubtedly scar her for life if I were to deny her. She then closed her routine with a good rendition of the "All of my friends have them"number. I half expected the other shoppers to call out for an encore - her performance was that good. So basically, our entire mother daughter relationship was teetering on this life altering decision. Oddly enough, the decision was made quickly as I noticed that the price tag on the misshapen hooker displayed the outrageous price of $49.99.
Upon hearing the verdict, Emma stood there with a look of pure disbelief on her face. "You are SO mean and I wish you were not my mom!" She bellowed. The ladies standing by the fabric softener gasped. Emma was fast reaching my breaking point and I had had enough. I growled from between clenched teeth "Listen little girl, you had better go put back that doll pronto, MOMMY is at her wits end with you both right now. You had better..."

That is when the bomb dropped.

Emma, being at shopping cart height smelled it first. Then, the stench that oozed from out of my son (who had been unusually quite) wafted up and slapped me hard in the face. I felt my sinuses shrivel up inside my face and my eyes burned. I knew in my heart that Matthew had just delivered the mother of all poops. Indeed, the little guy looked quite pleased with himself and started acting downright giddy. The putrid aroma was, if anything, impressive. I would liken this nasal experience, that had rolled in like thick fog, to a slew of bloated skunk corpses piled high atop a mountain of garbage that had of course been festering in 90-degree heat for at least three weeks. I gagged. I dry heaved a few times and out of desperation tried to envision Joe Rogan from Fear Factor screaming that I could handle it and not to puke! Somehow I managed to regain my composure. It was then that Emma announced to the store in a voice loud enough that someone could have done a price check on it, "UGH! MOM! Matthew really stinks! P.U.!!"

Panicked, I began to aimlessly pull random items off the shelves and put them in my cart - as long as it met the criteria of edible I no longer cared. At one point I nearly passed out, but my instincts were telling me to keep moving, just keep moving. The group of people ahead of us began to anxiously sniff the air with disgusted and pinchy looking expressions on their faces. I overheard one elderly woman's plea of "Doris do you smell that? Dear LORD! That has to be worse than that time my Jimmy ate that jar of spoiled sauerkraut!" Unfortunately, I could not do anything to save the poor people who were caught in our wake. Caught unawares, they did not even have a fighting chance. When our tailwind blind sided them, they dropped like flies.

Finally, through the hazy stench, I glimpsed the checkout counter through squinty watery eyes. It was almost over. Thank God.

Let me just say that I have never in my life had a cashier at a grocery store be faster and more efficient then Extra Foods cashier Darla was when we oozed into her checkout lane. She sped through my produce punching in a flurry of item codes without hesitation, like it was her shot at the gold. I noticed during her rapid-fire grab and scan movements that she was leaning back in an attempt to conserve precious oxygen. Like the seasoned veteran she was, Darla risked only one quick breath per every five items bleeped across the scanner.

I was not overly surprised when neither Darla the cashier, nor the James the bag boy extended to me a token Have a nice day or offer me a hand out with my groceries. The bastards.

Status: Mission completed - casualties unknown.

2004-11-18T22:41:00.000-07:00

Nope - just Matthew nine months olds.

2004-11-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

Elton John?

Where's the beef?

2004-11-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

Jack’s uncle has a farm and on the farm he has some cows. With a moo, moo here and a moo, moo there, here a moo... Ah, never mind.

Any way, Jack’s uncle recently butchered a cow and the meat from said cow was split up amongst the family. First let me just say that we like meat in here in Alberta – apologies to the PETA people in advance but being a vegetarian in Alberta is apparently kind of like being gay in Texas. We even have bumper stickers that say “I Heart Alberta Beef.” We like beef that much (except my mother brings shame to the family with her evil veggie burger eating ways.) Anyway, Jack’s parents brought over about 150 pounds (one – five-oh!) of beef to my house last week. So if anyone really wants to know where the beef is, I will gladly show him or her to my deep freezer. I have steaks, hamburger, roasts, and ribs – I got it all baby. Ah life is good!
Thanks to Jacks parents and I just want to add that people who will deliver 150 pounds of meat to your house are very good people indeed.

So to Caesar the head landing Cockatiel – you are one lucky bird. It seems that I have some beef to get through before you end up in my oven!

The Migraine Toy

2004-11-13T17:38:00.000-07:00

Every household with children has one. The most annoying toy ever designed and probably crafted by Satan himself in the deepest, darkest bowels of hell. I call this gift to humanity, the migraine toy. The migraine toy currently infesting our happy home is my daughter Emma’s toy cellular phone.

I cannot emphasize enough how truly evil this thing is. This toy cell phone has actively chipped away at my sanity for the past 234 days now. On occasion, this toy has even reduced me to a blubbering wreck that has needed a stiff shot of whiskey at 9:00am.
Now, out of self-preservation, whenever I hear the following verbal queue: “Mommy! Have you seen my cell phone?” I immediately proceed to the bathroom (where there is Tylenol) lock the door, and curl up in the fetal position on the cool damp bath mat.

Not only does this toy cell phone light up in a spectacular seizure inducing way, but it is also conveniently voice activated. This toy can indeed be brought to life by noises such as clearing one’s throat, stepping on that creaky spot in the floor, and blinking. The toy plays a myriad of obnoxious life-like ringing tones and will even simulate actual conversations. The conversations are actually a variety of recorded greetings in dismal accents so annoying that they will make you want to chip away at your forehead with a rusty butter knife. Oh – and one final important detail. There is NO VOLUME CONTROL. Any sound emitted from this lobotomy in a box is at an inner ear pulverizing decibel. The sheer loudness of this toy will cause every neuron in ones body to simultaneously fire. The effects of this varies from person to person, but usually include varying degrees of spasming, hyperventilation, and of course ye ol’ faithful migraine. Studies have yet to be preformed but I would hazard a guess that prolonged exposure to this toy will eventually lead to paralysis, coma, and death.

Naturally this is my daughter Emma’s favorite toy in the entire world.

Unfortunately, now that she is seven the battery removal “Oh too bad it’s broken” technique no longer works. Ah well – Jack and I had a good run with that one.
Sadly, Emma is all too familiar with the magic of batteries. Because she is such a smart cookie, she also knows that when the batteries in this toy from hell begin to run out, that fresh ones can be borrowed from other toys, the television remote control, the garage door opener and the smoke detectors.

So basically all we can do is hide the damn thing and pray that the novelty wears off as quickly as it did with the Pixtar. Please God let it end.

Conversation overheard by me while hiding in the bathroom between Emma & her daddy.

BRRRRRRRRRIIING, BRRRRRRRRRIIING, HELLO IS ANYBODY HOME?

Jack (groan): Oh Emma – not the cell phone…
Emma (sing-song voice): Da-ddy, Somebody wants to talk to you!

Jack (grumble): Hello? Yeah, could you please call Emma back after lunch? Kay thanks. Bye-bye.

DADDOOOO, DADOO! DOO, DOO, DOO! HOWDY PARTNER!!

Emma: Da-ddy! It’s SOMEBODY else now. Daddy, say hi!
Jack (grumpy): Hello? Ok, Emma needs to eat her breakfast now – you wouldn’t want her to get in trouble and have to have a time out right? Okay? Bye-bye.

Emma (shrill): Daddy! That’s not polite telephone manners!
Jack (steely voice): Emma, how about we put the cell phone away until after breakfast okay honey? Daddy needs a little quiet time to finish his coffee and read the newspaper.

BLLLEEEEEEEEEPP, BLIPPITY BLEEP! AHOY MATEY!

Emma (excited): Daddy! Guess what? The newspaper people are ON THE PHONE!
Jack: Hello? Okay, they say they need to talk to mommy right away. Why don’t you go tell her that the phone is for her?

Emma: Can’t! Mommy is in the bathroom and the door is locked.
Jack: UGH! She beat me to it.

DDDEEEEEEEEDOOOO! DEEEEEDOOO! LIKE HI, DO YOU WANT TO COME TO A DANCE PARTY?

Emma: DADDY! Don’t you want to go dancing?
Jack (voice rising): Emma I asked you to put away the toy. Now don’t make me ask again!

BLIP, BLIP, BLIP! BLEEP, BLEEEEEEEEP! YO DUDE WASSUP?

Jack (loud): For the love of God Emma! Please, please put away the phone or daddy will have to break it!!

Emma (tapping phone against table): Daddy, you can’t break this - it is hard plastic!
Jack (cold scary voice): Oh Really? I think daddy’s hammer could break that phone. Why don’t we go get daddy’s toolbox and find out?

Silence.

Emma (sulky): Fine, I will talk on my phone more later. GEEZ!

2004-11-12T12:29:00.000-07:00

Bet you can't eat just one.

The Awful Truth

2004-11-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

Parenting is NOT all smiley, happy, golden moments.
(Please refer to pictures posted below.)

There are in fact a plethora of whiny, crabby, and grumpy moments sprinkled throughout the day in the life of your average family. The children will pick the time, place, and duration of these moments. That makes us, the parents, somewhat like weathermen trying to predict and prepare for the events that will unfold. Let me tell you, even the most seasoned and yes perhaps even slightly psychic weatherman can be blindsided good and hard by a freak snowstorm in July.

In my house, no matter how many Dr. Phil techniques are employed - at any given moment, I generally have at least one of the children (and usually one dog) actively in one of the following states of: whiny, grumpy, and crabby.

The real fun begins when a grouping of the states occur and then I can get a combination of states in one or (god forbid) both of my children (ex. whiny & crabby.) If all three states occur a tantrum will erupt.
To recap: the place, duration, and time of the combination of states moment will be chosen by the child, BUT NOW because the situation has been elevated to tantrum level, the ferocity of the tantrum will vary from around 2.5 on the Richter scale to complete and total annihilation of the world as we know it. I know it's scary, but some children are indeed that good.

For those of you free-timers (kidless people) out there who are thinking of populating the world with your DNA, please be advised that all children have the this tantrum capability. Also known as the dark side. If you expect that your future child(ren) will be perfectly behaved, well groomed, will match the decor of your house, and will never throw a tantrum at the grocery store - well, you my friend are living in a fantasy world. Get some fish and take up yoga instead.

Anyway, in my house said the dark side is revealed, more often than not, during what I like to refer to as suicide hour (between 5:00-6:00pm.) Even the best of planning and distraction techniques cannot fully eliminate the horror show that is suicide hour.

Now, what makes this time period even more challenging, is that fact that you are trying to also accomplish some important parenting duties.

First off, to get a healthy dinner on the table - hopefully some of which the children will actually eat. Then comes the general dinnertime duties such as: cleaning spills, wiping stuff, fetching more juice, and retrieving dropped utensils (Note: if you get to eat as well AND your meal is still warm - you are eligible bonus points and a trophey or something.)
Then of course, the leftovers and various condiments need to be put away.
After this there are dishes to be done. Usually followed by homework. Then, finally - bathtime where you can only hope and pray that most of the marker, food and other unidentifiable smudges decorating your children will easily scrub off.

If any of the above events do not occur, well - you are a BAD mother. It's true.
Hey - don't get mad at me, I didn't make up the rules.

*** I just thought I should add a dose of reality among my happy, golden moment, smiley pictures from earlier posts to remind myself that this parenting stuff is bloody hard work. Yeah, yeah and it's rewarding too...
I love my kids, I love my kids, (deep breath,) I love my kids.

Well I am off to make lunches for tomorrow - possibly the worst of the daily chores right there - ask any parent.

2004-11-10T21:57:00.001-07:00

Grumpy

2004-11-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

Crabby

2004-11-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

Whiny

Pet Etiquette 101

2004-11-09T12:41:00.000-07:00

I have a big dog and a goofball puppy. I am fully aware that when someone knocks at the door or God forbid, rings the doorbell, the dogs go insane and charge to the door and will want to lavish whoever is behind the door with all sorts of insane doggy attention. I am also aware that not all people are dog lovers, especially if they are big dogs and crazy hyper puppies. So, out of consideration for these people, as well as my own sanity, I generally put the dogs outside when I have or am expecting guests. (If you drop-by unannounced, well, you take your chances. I would call first.) I guess I feel that it is somewhat impolite to inflict the people who I invite into my home with spazy face lickings, flying fur, and attempted crotch sniffings. If my guest asks to play with the dogs then I will bring them in. BUT I think it is good pet etiquette to at least offer the choice. (Please note that this rule does not apply to my parents, Jack's parents, his sister and her husband, and my friend Holly - you people will just have to deal with my dogs and my children - um, sorry it's a package deal.)

Okay for the cat people, I for one do not like to be accidentally shot with a squirt bottle because I happened to be in the line of fire when your cat was caught red handed on the countertop. But aside from that one time I had to walk around with a big wet spot on my blouse, I don't have a problem with cats. (Unless their is an obvious litterbox odor.) Cats seem to have that innate ability to blend into their environment. Most of the time, I don't even realize is a cat in the house - the people who are allergic to cats will be able to tell you right away though...

I do however have a bone to pick with the bird people.

Granted, I am obviously not a bird person, I don't really understand why a person would want a bird as a pet to begin with, and they just kind of freak me out in general. Anyway, my issue with the bird people, and I think others would agree, is that I really find it irritating when you have your bird just flying around your house and expect your guests to be okay with this situation. Some might consider this really bad pet etiquette. You see, it is simply really hard to have a conversation when there is a bird flapping and squawking around your face. In fact, the flapping and squawking tends to make concentrating on anything except the flapping and squawking virtually impossible. I would also like to add that I for one especially take offense when the bird then takes an obscene liking to my hair. I do not enjoy having a bird sit on my head at any time, anywhere, for any reason. It makes me feel violated and dirty and I don't think that is how you want the guests at your dinner party to feel. Bird people, my advice to you let's say when hosting a dinner party, is simply that you may want to put your damn bird in its damn cage, is all I'm saying.

Side note to Caesar the Cockatiel: You had better watch it bird! The next time you use my head as a landing pad I will open the front door and give you a little more room to stretch you wings. HA!

I think that I will have chicken for dinner tonight.
Mmm... Barbeque chicken.

2004-11-06T13:20:00.000-07:00

Let sleeping dogs lie

Operation Snow Shoe

2004-11-04T19:43:00.000-07:00

There was a movie made a while back called Canadian Bacon. The one with John Candy, where the U.S. declares war against Canada due to a minor misunderstanding. Okay, I also thought it was kind of silly at the time. But, since the Americans have now voted 51% to re-elect George W. Bush for another four years, well I must admit I am quite concerned.

* During Bush's first term in office he actually convinced the good people of the United States to declare war against the wrong man, invade the wrong country because of some alleged weapons of mass destruction that may have never actually existed. All the while, convincing US Citizens that the United Nation must be corrupt because the UN required, you know, actual proof of the alleged weapons of mass destruction.

It's all just mind-bungling really. So people, I am building my bunker now, my contractor is coming tomorrow with some quotes. Fellow Canadians, I urge you to do the same - because I think Canada may be next on ol' Bush's chopping blocks!

Seriously valid reasons why Bush is NOW considering a war against Canada:
(Dubya's pronunciation: Can-Nada)

1. Like Iraq, Can-Nada also has oil. It's just sitting there. I mean c'mon y'all, say it with me. Less sand more oil! Less sand more oil!

2. Osama Bin Laden (a.k.a. the bad guy) is also NOT in Canada thus obviously making Can-Nada my next prime target. That there's just a no-brainer.

3. I'm still right pissed as a bull during castratin' season because ol' Can-Nada opted out of my "Coalition Of The Willing" idear. Even though they did say "Um, No thank you" very cordially and we did already have Uzbekistan on board, I still find the whole mess right irritatin'.

4. I already know I can whoop Can-Nada's big fat maple leaf ass! I mean their military is just so gosh darn Simple-Simon-like and actin' all like they wanna be our janitorial crew or something. It just freaks me out that they seem so concerned all the time about cleaning up any slight messes I may have left behind on occasion. They just don't git that being President is such hard work - and that it requires some tough decisions! Wouldn't y'all know it, that is what the Saudis have been telling me all along.

5. Can-Nada is just a chalk full of them pot smoking, high-test beer drinking, touque wearing, multicultural accepting, gay marriage allowing, pro-choice heathens who simply must be obliterated. Why? Because God told me so!

6. I already have the best invasion name picked out - get this: Operation Snow Shoe! Ugh, dang-it that's not right. Oh yeah! Operation Snow Storm! Now c'mon whose on board? That there just makes you wanna shoot some nukes don't it?

7. My attempted brain washing assimilation initiatives "Operation When Fox Attacks" and "Operation The Simple Life," have yet to show much damage against them wily Canadians due to their infuriating need for critical thinking and rational thought. No matter - it's nothin' that a few of my smart bombs won't fix.

8. They already had that one mad cow! And dammit if those freaky Can-Nadian cows just don't give me the willies! I grew up on a ranch, so I know all about how lethal them mad cows really are! Hee-hee - Nev'r mind we'll just bomb 'em all.

9. They have all those "Kay-becker" French people and Ize just Hates them French Speakin' Varmmit. It's Wabbit Season! I mean *ahem* War on Can-Nada!

10. My daddy is bigger than their daddy!

2004-10-31T20:34:00.000-07:00

Lions and Tigers and... Stairs - oh my!

Swifferized

2004-10-31T14:37:00.000-07:00

Getting used to daylight savings - just plain sucks.
Rationally I know that it is only an hour - a mere sixty minutes. I also know that although I love my children it is really hard to like them much at 5:30am. Really hard...

Sundays are the day that I typically reserve for laundry and other futile endeavors such as cleaning my house. Yesterday was grocery shopping day but I like to refer to it as $300.00 on juice and dog food day. Anyway - yesterday I deviated from my usual iron clad shopping list when I saw a $10.00 mail-in-rebate sticker and I picked up one of those Swiffer Wet Jet mopping systems. I mean who can resist mail-in-rebate fun?

People - the Swiffer has changed my life.

I was down right giddy while assembling my Swiffer - I actually shrieked with joy upon discovering that you must insert 4 AA batteries in the compartment underneath the solution chamber and that the batteries were INCLUDED - does life get any better?
I just couldn't wait to mop. I cleaned the floors - well they pretty much cleaned them selves - it was fantastic. I am ashamed to admit this, but I also did the goofy little dance that they do in the commercial because dammit I was just that happy.

The effects of sleep deprivation are just horrifying.

2004-10-31T12:24:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!

2004-10-31T12:23:00.000-07:00

Rowr!

Disclaimer

2004-10-30T21:46:00.000-06:00

So I started this blog because I thought it would be such a cool medium for my family members to stay in touch and up to date with the kids and such.

But now, mhe - I dunno. I feel like I can only update so much about trivial stuff before my mind blows up. The kids are great. They are still cute - they say hi.

Basically -I am going to write about stuff and - I apologize in advance if it offends any of you.

Lexa

2004-10-28T17:57:00.000-06:00

SNOW much fun.

Got Carbs?

2004-10-27T21:00:00.000-06:00

** Memo to the Girl Guides of Canada

RE: The crate of Girl Guide cookies that came home with my daughter from Brownies the other night.

The cookies are proving to be quite difficult to unload these days. So, I would like to formally suggest that bacon be endorsed as your next fundraising product. Yeah, that's right - BIG slabs of Canadian BACON!

At work today -

Me: I have Girl Guide cookies for sale in my office - $4.00 a box.
Coworker: Really - what kind?

Me: Chocolate covered mint.
Coworker (shrill): Oh - I LOVE Those! (proceeds to follow me into my office.)

Me (passing Coworker a box of the cookies): Yeah I know, they are good.
Coworker (cradling the box of cookies lovingly in her arms): Yeah - I just love the mint kind.

Me: Okay - so...
Coworker (giving the box a good hard sniff): Mmmmmm...

* Sure enough my coworker proceeds to turn over the box and (gasp) study the Nutritional Contents legend as if it contained an encrypted message from God.

Coworker (desolate moan): Ohhhh... Bummer!
Me: Hmm?

Coworker (pointing to the box): Says here that it is like 42 grams of carbs per serving... I just (voice cracking) can't...

2004-10-26T11:00:00.000-06:00

Shlabby

The Weasels

2004-10-26T07:46:00.000-06:00

At the dinner table -

Emma (excited): Guess what?
Me: What?

Emma: No – you are suppose to guess!
Me: Okay. Your teacher had green hair today?

Emma (huffy): Mom, that is lame.
Me: Okay what then?

Emma: Miranda wasn’t in school today – she is really sick.
Me: Oh – that is too bad, but I am sure Miranda will be better soon.

Emma (louder): No she is REALLY sick – seriously.
Me: She is seriously sick huh?

Emma (aghast): Yes – she has the WEASELS!
Me (trying not to laugh): Erm, the Weasels?

Emma (indignant): Mom, that is NOT funny! You can get really sick with the Weasels – and I am serious!
Me: I know, mommy worked with people who got the Weasels before.

Emma (serious): Mom – will I get the Weasels?
Me: You’ve had all your shots remember? So I wouldn’t worry about it - okay?

Emma: Okay. Mom, did you ever get the Weasels?
Me: No, but I think daddy has. Why don’t you go ask him all about it?

2004-10-24T19:20:00.000-06:00

Autumn in Athabasca

2004-10-24T19:18:00.000-06:00

More leaves than teeth = all cute

Reagis Infection

2004-10-24T11:47:00.000-06:00

Conversation with my daughter Emma while driving home from school.

Me: So how was school
Emma (big sigh): ok - kinda boring.

Me: I bet you did some fun stuff in art?
Emma (rolling her eyes): Nope - just coloring.

Me: So what exciting thing happened today?
Emma: Oh! - some kids had to leave the classroom because of Reagis Infection!!

Me: Reagis Infection?
Emma (louder): Yes - Reagis Infection!

Silence...

Me: Emma, did you mean Religious Instruction?
Emma (exasperated): Yes that is what I said.

Me: So it was pretty boring today huh?
Emma (pointing to the cross atop a church as we are driving by): Hey mom there is a PLUS!

Me: Maybe mommy should sign you up for some Reagis Infection.
Emma: Okay! Wait - is that like math and stuff?

The grocer knows...

2004-10-23T09:59:00.000-06:00

Mike the guy who owns the local grocery store where I have been going a few time a week for the past four years asked me the other day if we had settled in town (bought a house) or if we were just passing through (renting.)

I responded "Yes, we actually bought a place up on the East hill by the Hospital about four years ago."
Mike responds "Ah, where abouts are ya?"
I told him what street and avenue we were on.
Mike looked confused.
I then provided a detailed description as to the exterior color & style of my house and even outlined the specific roads to take from the exact spot where we were standing to my house.
Mike showed a glimmer of recognition.
Exasperated, I said "I live right across the street from Dave and Stacy McCormick."
Mike looked at me in a knowing way and said "AH! - so you are the people that bought the Anderson house."

I left the grocery store feeling insecure - like maybe Mike KNEW that the Anderson's had done several do-it-yourself projects to the house. The latest discovered March 18th (when it was -40c) involving an ensuite bathroom in the master bedroom with the water lines that were run down an outside wall - just waiting to freeze up and burst. That was fun. Friggin' Andersons...

I fought the urge to storm back into the grocery store and violently shake Mike and scream "What else to you know about my house?! How much will the next thing cost us?!"

2004-10-22T18:20:00.000-06:00

Jack's big truck

Signs of the metamorphosis from city slicker to towns folk

2004-10-22T17:55:00.000-06:00

1. You do not seem to use the words hick and hicksville quite so much anymore.

2. You know what a Gator is AND have actually ridden on one to go check on some cows.

3. You have learned that there are regular meat draws at the legion on Fridays and have seriously considered checking it out.

4. Your idea of traffic now is when there is one car in front of you at one of the two traffic lights in town.

5. Upon returning to the big city you realize that you have somehow lost your ability to merge onto a 4-lane freeway. Oh - I could have gone. Oh - I could have gone again... Dammit - I have turned into THAT driver.

6. Your once haute-couture is now Sears Catalogue.

7. You are happy to learn that casual Fridays at work actually means sweat pants with a nicer top.

8. Since you do not have that twice a day 30 min commute during rush hour traffic AND road construction, you have become noticeably more pleasant. (FYI - your friends and family WILL comment on your previous degree of irritability & provide detailed examples of what a bag you were.)

9. Your spouse now drives ¾ ton extended cab diesel truck, has a motorcycle and is now talking you into a quad. (HELP ME! Please...Help me...)

10. You enjoy the convenience of only needing to tell people when asked the last 4 digits of your telephone number - because it is just common knowledge that we ALL share the same first 3 digits.

Signs that you live in a small town

2004-10-22T06:49:00.000-06:00

1. You can tell who is in the Extra Foods because you recognize whose vehicles are in the parking lot.

2. Your mail carrier (who may be dyslexic) regularly gives you someone else's mail. Though you don't know the person addressed on the envelope you realize that you work with someone who has the same last name. Sure enough - you have been receiving your co-worker's mother's mail. It also turns out that her mother has in fact been getting your mail. Instead of complaining to the post office you now just swap mail via your coworker.

3. Your neighbor mistakenly believes that you are Jewish and even wishes you a happy a Happy Hanukkah because the first year you moved to the neighborhood you neglected you put up any exterior Christmas lights.

4. You can't be mean to the J.W. who comes knocking on your door at 8:00am Saturday mornings because you work with his cousin.

5. Your mother not only works at the same place you do but is also in your department.

6. Your brother-in-law who is a paramedic and driving through your town in his ambulance decides to stop in for coffee. Because he is a cool uncle - he gives your daughter a tour of the ambulance and even turns on the lights & siren for her. The next day at work, your receive many emails from concerned coworkers inquiring about the "accident."

7. There is angle parking on Mainstreet & there is a street called Mainstreet.

8. Everyone - and I mean everyone - drives a 3/4 ton extended cab diesel truck.

9. There is only one radio station - and it is COUNTRY...

10. There is NOT a MacDonald's!!

2004-10-21T20:51:00.001-06:00

Skater girl - Emma

2004-10-21T20:51:00.000-06:00

2004-10-21T20:50:00.001-06:00

Daddy & Matthew

2004-10-21T20:50:00.000-06:00

Kawasaki Jack & son

2004-10-21T20:49:00.001-06:00

My not so good - but has potential - puppy Jake

2004-10-21T20:49:00.000-06:00

My GOOD dog Shep - 8 years old

2004-10-21T20:48:00.000-06:00

Sorry - daddy is an Oilers fan - therfore you WILL be an Oilers fan as well

2004-10-21T20:47:00.000-06:00

Emma & Matthew in the little pool

The last bit - the best part

2004-10-21T20:04:00.000-06:00

So....

My new favorite doctor in the entire world Dr. Chen, the “good” anesthesiologist, came in at around 3:00pm with his kit of happy drugs.

I was in too much pain to be scared about the epidural. I was just worried that I would not be able to stay still for Dr. Chen because as I said, I was getting contractions lasting up to 3 min. Just as one would fade away another would start up - it was insane. But I managed to sit up and Jack & a nurse were holding me and I tried to relax.

The first thing I felt was a sting in my back as Dr. Chen froze the epidural site. On a pain scale I would compare it to the Dr. breaking my water - not pleasant but over quickly. Next thing he did was put in the little tiny catheter that would administer the anesthesia. That was the weirdest thing I have ever felt - you can definitely feel the little tube fishing around in there while the doctor locates the correct spot but it isn't painful the way you would expect more achy. Again it was over fairly quickly.The last thing I remember about the epidural was a cool feeling down my back like they were pumping ice water directly into the tube.

Within in I would say three minutes I could already tell a difference in the quality or sharpness of the pain of my contractions. Then, I would say within five to 10 more minutes all I felt were cramps and by 15 minutes I felt nothing but pressure from the contractions. I could still feel my legs and feet but they felt very, very heavy and fuzzy like the way freezing feels in your face after you have had a filling at the dentist. I definitely could not walk and Jack or a nurse would have to help me move them to change positions.

I was down right giddy - just having the pain go away like that made me absurdly emotional (or maybe it was a side effect of the epidural I am not sure) but I now loved the entire nursing staff at the hospital and I worshipped Dr. Chen - of course I told them all how great they were. Jack was laughing at me I think but I did not care.
So it is about 3:45pm - I have 2 tubes in my arm, one in my back, the blood pressure cuff on my other arm and the monitor belts on my stomach. So when the nurse came to put in the catheter I was not surprised… I was however grateful that I would not have to get up to pee and even more grateful that I did not feel a thing.
By about 4:30pm the doctor said I was about 5 cm dilated. Okay. I was doing a crossword puzzle and Jack was reading a fitness magazine. If we were not in the hospital it would have been a nice quiet afternoon.

Jack & I would check the contractions on the monitor every once in a while. The spikes were off the chart and would plateau there for 30 seconds before going back down. I was SO relieved that I was not feeling them - good lord! They were lasting about 2 minutes and were about 30 seconds apart. I kept thinking how bloody stupid I was for not getting an epidural the first time around with DD…

The nurses would continue to check me every once in a while I was slowly progressing about 1 cm every hour.
About 7:00pm something weird started to happen - I was beginning to feel the contractions. I was not happy about this at all - it started to become damn painful. The nurse checked to see how dilated I was and said about 8 cm. I wanted more drugs and I wanted them pronto. The nurse said that I might not want to do that because I was so close and it might interfere with the pushing. I was freaking out and the new anesthesiologist came in to give me a top up.The top up helped immensely.

By 7:30pm I started to feel a lot of pressure and let the nurse know she checked me and said that I was 9 cm and could just feel a tiny but a cervix. They called in my doctor and set things up.
7:50pm - the doctor said I was ready to start pushing anytime and had me push once. She said that the baby was right there!

I was exhausted, but when they told me I could start pushing I was so relieved. It was almost over...
I could feel the pressure of the contractions so it did not interfere with the pushing at all.
Jack held on to one leg and my doctor was pushing up on the other. Jack and my doctor coached me through some tough pushes. I pushed like a son of a bitch for about 8 minutes. At one point I was yelling for the baby to come out. It was very intense.

My doctor told me to stop pushing. She was easing out the baby's head. Then after a small push Jack was saying that the baby's head was out. The baby's shoulders were a little difficult to get out but after one big push my doctor eased them out as well. A few more pushes later and my beautiful son was born. Jack cut the cord. It was 8:13pm.

So just over 12 hours from the time we got to the hospital I was holding our baby in my arms. Jack & I were laughing and crying at the same time.

It was so emotional and I was SO glad it was all over. Matthew was here and he was very healthy and quite a big guy weighing in at 9 pounds 2 ounces.

He was just perfect!!

The next bit - pain management

2004-10-21T14:48:00.001-06:00

My Doctor, Jack, & I had the talk about "pain management." I was still undecided and thinking maybe I would take a shot of morphine if things got too bad. At this point I was in no pain at all so it was easy to make that call.

I was now hooked up to 2 IV poles a blood pressure monitor as well at the belt around my stomach monitoring the baby & my contractions. The baby was doing great and my contractions were showing up as little bumps on the screen.

It was about 2:15pm and time was going backwards. Jack was staring out of the window at the parking lot with his eyes glazed over and I was watching my pitiful little contractions on the monitor. It was a little hellish unhooking myself from the monitor ad BP machine then trying to maneuver myself and two IV poles to the bathroom and since having my water broken it seemed like I was getting up to pee and change the bedding sheet every 5 mins. It was irritating Jack would no sooner get me all hooked up again and I would have to get back up. Jack was struggling to be cheerful as was I.

By about 2:30pm I was starting to feel the contractions really well. I was thinking - oh yeah, NOW I remember what this is like - this sucks!! My contractions were showing up as nice spikes on the monitor and lasting about 30-45 seconds. This is not good enough apparently and the nurse who I now had come to despise came in again to increase the drip another 6mg. It was now up in the 90's.

At 2:45pm a wall of pain hit me - I don't remember this happening at all during my first labor but I started having contractions one on top of the other and I started freaking out a little. The final time I got up to go to the bathroom with the 2 IV poles and one of the contractions hit me I doubled over and just about pulled out one of the IV's. I was crying pretty hard and Jack was really getting worried.

At 2:50pm Jack helped me back to bed and the nurse informed me that the "good" anesthesiologist was leaving at 3:00. I freaked out and begged that he not leave until after doing my epidural. All composure and self consciousness are totally gone at this point - I wanted drugs and I wanted them NOW!

The first bit

2004-10-21T14:48:00.000-06:00

On October 7th, 2002 after dropping Emma & our dog off at my parent's house, Jack & I drove to Edmonton. We spent the night at a nice hotel, had a good meal, and joked that this would be the last time we would ever be alone together... This has turned out to be the truth!!

I was up all night worried about the inducement and very uncomfortable. I had the worst heartburn ever and took my very last (self administered) insulin shot.

October 8th, 2002: We had our wake up call at 6:00am and the hospital called our cell phone at around 7:00am to confirm that we had to be there by 8:00am. We checked out of the hotel ad went for breakfast due to nerves I was only able to choke down 1/2 a bagel. Jack was already getting on my nerves - it was going to be a long day.

We arrived at the hospital shortly after 8:00am. I was admitted and we went up to labor & delivery. After a quick exam I was told that I was not effaced or dilated at ALL and that they would be starting me on the synthocin (sp?) drip right away. I was scared and excited. Jack was a little wired after drinking at least 8 cups of coffee. They started my IV (the nurse I had was a little brutal and not so gentle but whatever) and finally got it going.

There was a little scare with the IV machine as it kept beeping and flashing that there was air in the line. Jack freaked out a little and the nurse came and - I swear to God - gave the machine a whack and said these machines always did that. We made her check the line anyway.

So they started the drip at 6mg and explained that they would then increase the dosage by 6mg every 15 mins until I was in active labor. I was also told that I had to check my blood glucose every hour. It was about 9:00am.

Talk about anti-climactic... By around noon I was starting to feel some tiny cramps ot even comparable to pms... The nurse came to check me and told me I was progressing fine. They provided me a crappy (even by hospital standards) lunch that consisted of beef broth weak tea and lime Jell-O (ugh...) and I was allowed to drink as much water as I wanted.

Time was standing still - Jack kept sneaking out for new magazines and real food... ARGH!! I was starving but the nurse assured me that I would get nauseous and gave me another cup of ice chips. I hated that nurse.

At about 1:00 after my latest glucometer reading I was told that my glucose levels were way too high and that they would have to start me on an insulin drip as well. This would mean another IV. Same arm higher up. I just hate needles.

My Doctor came at about 1:30pm to check me. I was still not feeling any contractions - she gave me the option of breaking my water to speed things up. I said yep let's do it. It was not pleasant at all but over fast. I was assured that this would really get things going.

How it all went down - intro

2004-10-21T10:18:00.000-06:00

I thought I would share Matthew's birth story - my baby boy just turned 2 on the 8th of October and I am feeling nostalgic and old and okay a little overweight because I STILL have the 15 pounds to lose - okay, okay the 20 pounds to lose... Whatever...

I had Gestational Diabetes during my pregnancy with Matthew. For whatever reason - the placenta interferes with your pancreas production of insulin and it can cause big problems if not treated. Treatment for me = self injecting myself with insulin four times per day and testing my blood with a little stabby thing 8-10 times per day. Side effects = I was just plain mad for 5 months, I gained a massive amount of weight (70+ pounds = egad!), and I had to follow a very restricted diet. It sucked.

Though I now have such a respect for those who manage this disease on a daily basis and am very fortunate that gestational diabetes just goes away after you give birth. What really put things into perspective for me was after I was diagnosed I had to go buy a bunch of testing strips and pen needle refills for the insulin epi-pen thingy. I was upset and just plain hate needles and was complaining, okay ranting to the pharmacist who informed me - that he could give me the 5mm needles instead of the 8mm ones my doctor prescribed. These he said would probably hurt less and are the size that CHILDREN with diabetes generally use. Yeah okay after that I just sucked it up.

So I was huge, I was grumpy, I was diabetic, and I wanted this baby the hell out of me ASAP. I sure as hell was NOT glowing, nesting, or in any other mental state but MAD - oh right - I was still working full time (right up until the due date - because I am a loser) and I had a 5 year old, Jack and a dog to deal with.

After 37 weeks I was BEGGING my doctor to induce me - PLEASE for the love of GOD!

By my next visit I had gained 10 pounds - which is pretty amazing considering I was on the diabetic diet from hell. The "have as much celery as you want" diet.
At my next appointment my doctor weighed me and just told me to be at the hospital the nest morning. YAY!

So here is how it all went down...

Shlab problems...

2004-10-19T09:25:00.000-06:00

We have two dogs. Our 8 year old German Sheppard cross named Shep. Who IS the best dog alive - I am now certain of the fact that she IS the best dog alive because I have a point of comparison now - a "new perspective" if you will. Well, actually he is a 4 month old puppy we named Jake. He is a Sheppard Lab cross = Shlab.

Jake the Shlab is a terror right now. The word spaz does not even do him justice - maybe super spaz on acid might be more appropriate. Even though he has that gawky teenage four month old puppy look - he is suprisingly agile and fast. It is a good thing he is cute...
Take last week for example:

Dear Mrs. Robins,

Please accept our sincere apologies regarding the following two elementary school library books which have unfortunately been ruined beyond repair by our puppy Jake:

1. McDaniel, B "Larry and the Cookie"
2. Wiebe, T. "Max the Mighty Superhero"

It turns out that the little shit can now reach items on the counter and shred them into little bits including various coupons as well as important "time sensitive" correspondence from Publisher Clearing House and an entire package of Post-It notes.
Please find enclosed $20.00 to cover the replacement costs for the above items as was indicated to me by your school librarian Mrs. Bodner.

Best Regards,
Lexa

First post

2004-10-06T21:14:00.000-06:00

My first post in blog world:

My name is Lexa, I live in a small town in Alberta, Canada with my spouse, fiance, boyfriend, that guy, my kids' dad... his name is Jack and he is a pretty great guy. We have been together for 11 years now and have two kids, two dogs, a mortgage and all the other ususal commitment fixin's: 'til debt do us part...

Jack and I were both raised in actual cities (with malls and crime and stuff) in Alberta and are still suffering from small town culture shock. The noise, pollution and anonymity we enjoyed in the city is gonzo, c'ya, bye-bye... Everyone here does or will know your business and it turns that they are also willing to then fill in the gaps of knowledge about your business with what ever comes to mind - stream of consciousness stuff going on here it has been interesting. I truly cannot wait to post about adapting to small town living.

I do copyright work for a local University and Jack is a driller on a drilling rig and works all over the province. As a result of sharing my life with someone who works in the oil field industry, I now have a huge assortment of mugs, mouse pads, sweatpants and jackets and a set of sweet highball glasses with the insignia and slogans of various drilling companies. And really what more can a girl ask for?

Lexa