tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54307700790369844292024-03-13T07:59:55.731-07:00Life, unscripted.I'm Jamie.
I'm 37.
Which is a little too close to 40 for my taste.
In my head, I'm still 21, and 1994 was like 8 years ago.
I have a husband, a daughter, a son, an ancient cat, and a brand new puppy.
Writing is therapeutic.
Thanks for visiting.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-67811592926562686502017-04-25T21:17:00.000-07:002017-04-25T21:17:59.164-07:00The Crap-ocalypse.<div data-contents="true">
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<span data-offset-key="65fc-0-0"><span data-text="true">Here's a lovely little story about poop. Enjoy.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="65fc-0-0"><span data-text="true">Last week, for a few nights, Archie would wake up at like 2am and kind of make this weird growling noise, so we would get up to take him outside. This is not normal behavior for him - every single night, he goes in to his crate for "night-nights" (because I speak to him like he's a human infant and I literally say "come on my sweet little baby doggie boy, it's time to go night-nights, mommy loves you sooooo much" in a ridiculous high pitched voice and then I smother him with kisses and hugs and send him in to the crate, it's literally more attention than my husband or children ever get before bed), ANYWAY he stays in there without a peep, save for a little snoring, til I'm done my morning shower. Sometimes that's 6am, sometimes it's 8am, he don't care. He's adaptable and easy and we have never, ever had a problem with this system, right from the get-go.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">So, on like the 3rd night, when he pulled this 2am growly whiny nonsense again, I thought <i>"NO WAY JOSE. This is your new little manipulative game. Wake up at 2am for a little moonlight fresh-air frolic around the yard, while mom or dad stumble around in their underwear hoping the neighbors aren't awake and looking out their windows, then think you just get to crawl into bed with us for the rest of the night?!? NOPE. Not anymore, doggie, the jig is up, I'm way smarter than you, your game ends tonight."</i> And then, like a good dog owner, I stuck his crate in the ensuite bathroom and went back to sleep, thinking about how I'd have to go to Walmart tomorrow to buy some earplugs if he was gonna keep this silliness up.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">Moving ahead to 3am, when I'm woken up abruptly by Shawn, who's whacking me and saying "HE'S SHIT. OH MY GOD, HE POOPED. I CAN SMELL IT." And I'm like, **EYEROLL** settle down drama queen, he's behind two closed doors, there's no way you can smell dog shit, you're dreaming, HE'S JUST MANIPULATING US, now go back to sleep.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">Except that I was wrong, and he most definitely COULD smell poop, and Archie most definitely HAD taken a giant shit, right there in his crate in the bathroom that I had shut him into.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">Oops.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">So, we bolted out of bed, picked up the dog-and-crap-filled crate and carried it into the kids' bathroom, because that's the only one with an actual bathtub. I held my breath, opened the crate, and Archie walked out like it was no big thing, casually tracking shit footprints all over the bathroom floor, looking at me as if to say <i>"you are so stupid, lady, just LOOK at the pickle we are all in now, thanks to you!" </i>as I scooped him up and hoped to God I wasn't touching dog crap, stuck him in the tub, and gave him a good 3am doggie scrub-down. Shawn, meanwhile, had opened the lid of the crate, and upon seeing the massive amount of feces, began dry heaving and gagging and choking in an incredibly dramatic fashion, and proceeded to leave the room completely, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with a shitty crate, a shitty dog, a shitty floor, and shit-covered dog bedding. He returned shortly with a t-shirt wrapped around his face, with futile hope that maybe he'd be able to block the putrid smell as he attempted to remove the poop soaked bedding and the poop soaked crate, and get it all the hell out of the house.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">It was DIS.GUS.TING.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">It was the very definition of a shitstorm.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">A poo-splosion, if you will.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="8rv5e-0-0"><span data-text="true">It was the f'ing crap-ocalypse.</span></span><br />
<br />
It smelled like dog shit in my house for a whole day.<br />
<br />
I have learned my lesson.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-31276184582474856582017-03-03T19:35:00.000-08:002017-03-03T19:35:07.305-08:00It's good to be Queen (a dental crown is still a crown!)Sometimes, you get home from work at 3:15 on a Friday afternoon and you pour yourself a tiny (uhhhm, enormous) glass of wine and then you just feel like writing. (And, OK, if we're being technical, you're normally home at 3:00 but today you were late because you made
a little side trip to Ye Ol' Liquor Store and bought yourself a box of
white and a bottle of red.)<br />
<br />
It's been a week.<br />
<br />
My kids were sick. Fevers, ear infections, etc. Good times. Everyone's fine now. WHEW. Because as much as I love my kids, being home with them when I should be at work makes me a little stir crazy. Also, clinics suck. They just do. They smell horrible and the magazines are from like 1996 and everyone is sick and coughing all over the place and the other patients look at you all judgey-like when you crack open your can of Diet Coke. I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR LIKE AN HOUR PEOPLE. I NEED THIS, SO NEVER MIND!!!!<br />
<br />
Also, I needed to get a crown. And NOT the kind of crown I deserve, either.<br />
<br />
You may remember how I am with anything dental or medical...if not, you can read back through this blog for the dirty details, or just ask me in person about that time I had babies, or had to have my appendix out. I have been known to tell nurses to F-off, to question the ability of
trained professionals, and there is a chance I've told poor sweet
innocent dental hygenists that I don't like them and that they need to
get their fingers out of my mouth RIGHTFUCKINGNOW. Let's just say I'm a shitty patient, and leave it at that. I'm sorry. IT'S A SICKNESS YOU GUYS. I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE DIGGIN' AROUND IN MY SHIT. IT TURNS ME INTO A GIANT BITCH.<br />
<br />
So, obviously, I couldn't go in to a two-hour dental appointment that involved pain and needles, sober. So I visited my family doctor for a hefty dose of Ativan.<br />
<br />
My doctor, I should mention, is awesome.<br />
<br />
When I said "I'd like enough Ativan to tranquilize a horse, please", he totally came through for me.<br />
<br />
The trouble is, there is a TINY chance that I MAYBE, POSSIBLY, didn't follow instructions appropriately.<br />
<br />
I couldn't really feel the first Ativan. So, I took a second. Then I thought...OK, my head keeps flopping to the side and I'm finding this hysterically funny so...maybe it's kinda working and I feel it a bit?! MAYBE...BUT...NOT QUITE ENOUGH. Soooo, during the car ride to the appointment, I knocked back a third.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I think that one put me over.<br />
<br />
I wasn't driving, obviously, my BFF took me to my appointment, and when she laughed and said "you're talking and moving like you're underwater", I probably should've taken that as my clue that a third Ativan wasn't necessary, but I totally didn't. And since she's my bestie, she's completely supportive of my decisions even when they're stupid, so I made my way into the dental office with three Ativan in my system, higher than a kite and feeling no pain. I made it through the appointment like a boss, my husband picked me up and took me home, where I promptly fell asleep and woke up two hours later with no pants on wondering where the hell I was (in my bed) and how I got there (I put myself there) and what time it was (yeah I still don't know the answer to that, it's all a total blur) and if I would ever, ever feel normal again (nope, spent the rest of the day with double vision, texting indecipherable nonsense to several lucky recipients, crashing in to walls and falling over at random moments and laughing hysterically over nothing.)<br />
<br />
Ativan. For the win.<br />
<br />
And now?? I HAVE A CROWN.<br />
<br />
Please. Call me Queen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-85420122772964575502016-04-29T22:51:00.002-07:002016-04-29T22:51:58.489-07:00In case you missed it - WE GOT A PUPPY!Oh, the joy of clicking on that little orange button with the pen icon - the one that means, "hey, look at this, I'm totally writing a blog post right now!!"<br />
<br />Which is something I haven't done for two whole years.<br />
<br />And it's not for lack of shit to say. Oh, lordy, do I have shit to say.<br />
<br />
It's just that life is busy.<br />
<br />
And that's, like, the lamest excuse EVER.<br />
<br />
Life IS busy. Wah wah wah. I'm not special. It's busy for everyone. Parents, non-parents, working parents, stay at home parents, old people, young people, people whose kids are in every activity under the sun, and people whose kids are not.<br />
<br />
We're all busy.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I got shit to say.<br />
<br />
I can't promise it's exciting stuff, or hilarious, or particularly interesting. But it's been a hell of a week and I've finished it off with half a bottle of red (BIG BOLD RED, from California, to be precise...it's $9.99 a bottle with a screw top so baby, I'm sold) and frankly I just feel like vomiting words for awhile.<br />
<br />
As I write this, Archie is in my lap, all curled up and sleeping adorably, as if he didn't just take a giant steaming shit on the floor for the second time today then stare at me as if <i><b>I</b></i> am the one with the problem here.<br />
<br />
Archie is our brand-new, 10-week old puppy.<br />
<br />
Because cluelessly, back in October, I was like WE SHOULD TOTALLY GET A PUPPY!!!<br />
<br />
And hey, look at that, April rolled around and we got a puppy. Shawn was all like, "are you sure? Do you know how much work a puppy is? It's like having a baby again..." and I was like "BABIES ARE SUPER EASY, THIS WILL BE EASY, I MEAN REALLY, HOW HARD CAN IT BE, I'M CALLING THE BREEDER RIGHT NOW AND GETTING US ON THE LIST FOR THE EXACT DESIGNER PUPPY THAT I WANT!!!!" and Shawn was like, uhhmmm OK but have you really thought about this, I mean it's not a friggin' house plant, it's a living breathing puppy, and I'm telling you they are like a LOT of work?! And I was like "I TOTALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT FOR LIKE 14 SECONDS WHICH IS A REALLY LONG TIME FOR ME PLUS I GOOGLE IMAGED THE ONE I WANT AND LOOOOOOK HOW CUTE IT IS!!!!" And he was like OMG you're an idiot but fine let's get a puppy.<br />
<br />
He's super agreeable that way.<br />
<br />
Admittedly, there are times I wonder when he's going to get sick of my shit and I'm gonna have to go looking for a new husband. BUT WHATEVER, because I got a puppy. So there's that. My new husband will probably totally dig him. A tiny little red-haired Cavapoo is solid man-bait, right??<br />
<br />
Shit, I just realized that when Shawn ditches my ass, I'm gonna need a lot of help in the man-bait department.<br />
<br />
Anyway. Moving on. In the two short weeks that we've had our little Archie, I can honestly say we have all fallen madly, crazily, wildly, head-over-heels in love with him. He shits on the floor daily, and he bites on my favorite TV-watching blanket, and the cat that we've had for 14 years totally hates him and is silently and evilly planning the ways she is going to rid this house of this four-pound terror...but man, I'm telling you, his presence in this family is a game changer.<br />
<br />
It's hard to stay wound-up after a crazy workday when I come home to him.<br />
<br />
My 9-year-old son suffers from minor anxiety and there's no better anxiety-buster than a 4 pound ball of fur.<br />
<br />
My 11-year-old daughter and her #squad (isn't that what the cool kids are calling "friends" these days??) are obsessed with him, and I believe plans are in the works to create his own Instagram page.<br />
<br />
And my husband lets him sleep on his pillow, right beside his face - he won't even let ME do that (though really, he's kinda drooly and rather hairy so why would I want to share his pillow anyway?!)<br />
<br />
Like I said. Game changer.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the housebreaking process thus far has been a nightmare.<br />
<br />
Here's hoping our darling Archie gets his shit together (pun intended) before I turn 100.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-59070867064858937852014-07-26T15:49:00.001-07:002014-07-26T15:56:55.934-07:00We did it!Back in January, Shawn and I started discussing what we should do for our summer holiday this year.<br />
<br />
And, like a couple of idiots, we were all, "hey! You know what we should do?! We should trap the four of us in the van for 57 billion hours and DRIVE TO CALIFORNIA AND LAS VEGAS AND HOME AGAIN!!!!"<br />
<br />
Truth be told, this epic road trip was a great idea in January. But once the beginning of July rolled around and we were a mere week away from leaving, we started to panic a bit, wondering what the hell we'd gotten ourselves into, and have we not heard of airplanes, and we are going to be alone with these kids for the next 3 weeks, and WHY DIDN'T WE THINK TO MAKE GRANDMA COME WITH US, because surely we are going to need a break!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
But, on July 9th, as planned, the four of us piled into the Big Silver Turd (I just named it that) and we were off.<br />
<br />
Before I go any further, I will say this about the entire 2 and a half week trip:<br />
<br />
It.<br />
<br />
Was.<br />
<br />
AMAZING.<br />
<br />
Day One had us cruising down the I-5 all the way to Eugene, Oregon. We liked Oregon. It's beautiful, very green, has no sales tax (YAY!!) <i>and</i> we didn't even have to pump our own gas!! Also it had this awesome donut place called Voodoo that served things like bubblegum donuts, bacon donuts, and one rather large chocolate-covered monstrosity called the "cock and balls". I'll let you imagine what that looked like. Of course, that's the one AJ wanted - he didn't know the name of it, or even what it was supposed to be - but it was the biggest one, so he wanted it. I was not about to let my kid chow down on a giant donut shaped like a dude's junk, so he had to settle for a smaller, much less raunchy, plain old chocolate covered donut.<br />
<br />
Day Two had us crossing into California and staying the night in Sacramento. We stopped at Old Country Buffet in Redding, CA, because the kids love it there and on Thursdays they eat for 99 cents - and this momma ate like her life depended on it. There was no stopping me. Mac and cheese, pulled pork, omelettes, fried chicken, tacos, rice, pizza, garlic bread, soup, ice cream - I made that buffet my bitch. I needed to be rolled out of there but I didn't even care. It's a buffet, man. Go big or go home!<br />
<br />
Finally, on Day Three, we reached our first major destination: West Hollywood, California, where Shawn's Uncles S and K live, along with their little doggies Ginger and Lola! They opened their home to us for 9 days, and it was so awesome to see them - it's been almost 9 years. There is so much to say about our time in California. S and K have lived there a long time and are about the best tour guides you could ever ask for. We saw all the major sights with them - Grauman's Chinese Theater, Dolby Theater, the Walk of Fame, the Hollywood sign, downtown LA, the Santa Monica Pier, Venice Beach, Rodeo Drive, and more. My kids swam in the ocean for the very first time ever at Venice Beach, and it is a moment I will never forget as long as I live. Their screaming and laughter and sheer joy as the waves came crashing in and out was a highlight of the whole trip for me. And, to boot, while they were playing in the waves, a bunch of dolphins (a school of dolphins? Pack of dolphins? Herd of dolphins??) kept swimming back and forth not far from where they were at all. It was incredible. Even K jumped in with them, and he hasn't been swimming in the ocean for like 20 years! Just amazing.<br />
<br />
California, of course, also meant a day at Universal Studios and two days at Disneyland - again, both firsts for our kids. I have to be honest - while I was looking forward to this part of the holiday, I was also a little nervous. I'm OK with crowds but I HATE STRANGERS TOUCHING ME, especially sweaty strangers, and I knew damn well that many sweaty strangers would be touching me. Also, I'm not big on rides. I hate the fair (as you know) and I am not a fan of waiting in lines. But, I put on my big-girl panties (extra big, thanks to the Old Country Buffet incident), took a deep breath, and jumped right in. I created a system in which I walked with my right arm extended behind me as far as it would go to stop people from coming too close to me from behind and stepping on my heels, and it totally worked!! I also <i>might</i> have loudly called out "personal space!!!!" every once in awhile, you know, just as like a public service reminder. I like to think it was helpful for everyone!<br />
<br />
Universal Studios was great fun - the kids absolutely loved every ride and show, with the exception of Mackenzie on the Jurassic Park Water Ride - she wasn't expecting to be plunged down a 50-foot embankment and subsequently soaked from head to toe when she got off, and she was pretty pissed...but it made for a great photo! While I enjoyed the rides at Universal, I also spent most of them screaming like a loser and closing my eyes so I wouldn't get sick - I saw about 12 seconds of the Simpson's ride, for example, before I started making an ass of myself screaming "OH MY GOD MAKE THIS STOP THIS IS HORRIBLE I'M TOTALLY GONNA HURL!!!!!!!" A definite highlight of our day at Universal was when AJ was being kind of a brat to the purple Minion - sticking his tongue out, being silly, etc. Well, that purple Minion took it at first, but then decided he would have no more of it - so he started to pretend-chase AJ. AJ screamed, then tripped over his own feet and nearly fell on his ass trying to run away from the purple Minion. Hey, that's karma, kid. Don't piss off the Minions!<br />
<br />
Next amusement park - DISNEYLAND! S and K joined us for the first day, and we did all sorts of rides - Indiana Jones (the only one AJ hated, but Kenzie loved it so much she rode it twice), Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, Splash Mountain, and so on. It was an awesome day and we were so glad S and K came too!! We made the kids ride "Its A Small World" at like 11pm, we told them it was Disneyland Law to ride it, so they were super excited, but then of course they were like - what the hell, this ride is dumb. AJ says, "I don't even get this, you can't even put your arms up and yell WOOOHOOO!" Touche, buddy. That's why nobody likes It's a Small World. (Don't tell anyone that I actually think It's a Small World is kind of cute and sweet.) Those crazy kids also rode the teacups repeatedly. Vom-IT! I rode them once and nearly lost it. And by "it", I mean "my lunch."<br />
<br />
Day 2 at Disney, we hit it hard. 9am-11pm straight. By the end of the day I was feeling rather Hulk-Smash'y, like if one more stranger came near me or one more ride attendant was rude or I had to wait one more minute for a ride, I was going to start throwing things - but man, we did a lot! The Cars ride at California Adventure was well worth the wait - we even rode it twice - the second time as single riders so it was only a 20-minute wait instead of 2 hours. Shawn got to go on his preferred rides that the kids and I wouldn't touch - California Screamin' and Space Mountain - so he was super excited about that. You just can't help but act like a kid when you are in Disneyland!<br />
<br />
While we may have missed out on the "magical" age of taking the
kids to Disneyland (say, 2 and 4), we also missed out on the tantrums, the
meltdowns, the need for naps, the constant need for snacks, the
strollers, the whining...I could go on. At (almost) 8 and
10, they understood we had to wait in line. They knew the
characters were just dressed up people, but were still young enough to
be excited about them. They could also ride by themselves, which was great for those of us parents who can't handle the teacups and Merry-Go-Rounds. It was absolutely worth it to wait til this age to go - especially after watching hot and tired parents trying to wrangle strollers and Baby Bjorns, control screaming toddlers, heat up bottles in the bathroom, explain a 2-hour wait for Elsa and Anna to an impatient and crying 4-year-old...I'd say 8 and 10 are perfect ages!!<br />
<br />
Since we were already in Anaheim, the next day we took a small road trip down to Huntington Beach to go for another swim in the ocean. The waves were crazy. They were so strong they literally knocked us over and sent us crashing to shore on our bellies. It was awesome (except perhaps for the sand we found in all sorts of surprise places later on!) Then we continued down the Pacific Coast Highway to Newport Beach and Laguna Beach, where clearly the people who live there shit money. I've never seen anything like it. Yachts docked outside people's homes; yacht and ship dealers everywhere; plastic surgery places literally on every corner that look like fancy condos; and some pretty exclusive car dealerships that had Shawn drooling all over himself and probably needing to change his undies when we got home - McLaren, Ferrari, Porsche, and Bentley, to name a few. Amazing. We stopped at Ruby's, a little place overlooking the ocean along the Pacific Coast Highway, for fries and milkshakes at sunset, and it was beautiful.<br />
<br />
Then, it was back to S and K's place to recover for a couple days before heading up to - VEGAS, BABY!!<br />
<br />
Let me just give you this little piece of advice: as a rule, you probably shouldn't get your information from Bradley Cooper's character in "The Hangover" when you are planning a road trip. In the movie, he's like, "oh we can get from Vegas to LA in two hours." So I thought it was going to take two hours. It actually takes like, 5. So thanks, Bradley Cooper. Thanks for nothing. You might be hot, but you know nothing about geography.<br />
<br />
Anyway, despite being a smidgen later than planned, Vegas was a hoot. We met our friends D and G there, along with their kids, and we had such a fun time. Wandering the strip, heading to Fremont Street, Circus Circus, the Eiffel Tower, and having some drinks and pool time - they only had one night, so we made the most of it! Mackenzie actually celebrated her tenth birthday in Vegas (side note, OMG, she is TEN FREAKING YEARS OLD and I HAVE BEEN A MOTHER FOR A DECADE, HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?) and we spent the evening at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, Kenzie had her eyes made up at Sephora, we had Frozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity, and enjoyed watching the Bellagio fountains going off to "Billie Jean". Lucky girl, turning 10 in Vegas!<br />
<br />
Side note...cute (?) conversation in Vegas...<br />
AJ: "You can walk around with your beer here??"<br />
Me: "Yup!"<br />
AJ: "But you do that at home too."<br />
Me: "What?? I do not!!"<br />
Mackenzie: "Oh, no, AJ, that's different. She always hides it in something, so nobody knows it's beer. So then it's OK."<br />
<br />
After 3 days of 44-degree (celsius) heat in Las Vegas, it was time to start the journey home. Day one was as far as Boise, Idaho; Day two had us arriving in Seattle; and last night we rolled in to Kamloops at about 8pm, with 5,559 kilometers added to our van.<br />
<br />
Through it all, I learned that my kids are amazing. Ah-may-zing. They didn't complain at all in the car. They tended to get a little stupid and hyper as we would approach each destination, but overall, they were awesome. They waited in lines like a couple of champs. They walked what I'm sure would total hundreds of kilometers, in some pretty majorly intense heat. Their entire eating and sleeping schedule was flung waaaaaaay far out the window, and it didn't even faze them. Cheese strings, granola bars and bananas for dinner at 10pm? OK! McDonald's for the 3rd day in a row? Sure! Bed at midnight? Yup! They were rock stars pretty much the entire time and I am so proud of them.<br />
<br />
I learned that 9 years is MUCH too long to go without seeing S and K, and we will not let that much time pass again.<br />
<br />
I learned that while I love love LOVE the heat - it's DRY heat that I love. It wasn't too hot in California at all, but the stickiness made it a little less enjoyable to me than the smokin' hot Vegas-type heat.<br />
<br />
I learned that if I had to live somewhere that had rush hour traffic, I'd have gone to jail a long time ago.<br />
<br />
I learned that on such a long road trip, you will see license plates from every state in the US except for Hawaii, DC, Rhode Island, and Delaware. I know this because we wrote down every single one we saw on a napkin; a napkin that, by the way, flew out the window at Huntington Beach and had this crazy Canadian running across a 6-lane Pacific Coast Highway like a lunatic, chasing down the napkin in the wind (I finally got it back when it stuck to a tree!) <br />
<br />
I learned that sometimes, it's good to let go of some control and anxiety and just let things happen.<br />
<br />
I'm happy to be home, back to normal life and not living out of a suitcase.<br />
<br />
But man, that really was <i>epic.</i><br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-30211156952299565822013-08-19T14:43:00.003-07:002016-04-29T22:59:01.806-07:00My Appendectomy Adventure.Wow, this Monday is sooooo much different from last Monday. In a good way. Because today, I do not have my head in a toilet, and I'm not all curled up on the floor crying because my stomach hurts so bad I just want to rip the whole thing out of my body <i>Alien</i>-style and throw it out the window.<br />
<br />
Let's rewind a bit, shall we?<br />
<br />
So last last week - like two weeks ago - I was complaining to my girlfriends about my horrific case of PMS. My exact words were, "I think this period is trying to kill me." I felt dizzy, lightheaded, stupid, and my poor belly was very very sore. Cue Monday morning, 3am - I woke up with a sudden jolt of sharp and intense pain in my stomach, and shit went downhill lightning-fast from there. I spent all of Monday feeling like 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag, until finally I tearfully admitted that clearly this was not PMS, that something was really wrong and that I had better get my sorry ass to the Emergency Room, pronto.<br />
<br />
Now, it needs to be noted that this girl does NOT do hospitals. I have had two children and that is the extent of my medical history. No broken bones. No stitches. No high fevers. No tonsillectomies. Nothing. In fact, once I was there, I realized that this was actually my first trip to the ER (for myself), ever. And, funny enough, as soon as I got there I started to feel better - it was as though my body decided to self-heal and thought, <i>'you know, this doesn't look fun, in fact this looks like a whole shit-ton of NOT fun, let's get you better through the power of your own mind and get the hell out of this joint.' </i> Long story short, I was there for four hours just to be told to come back the following day for an ultrasound.<br />
<br />
So, I spent most of Tuesday baking banana bread and convincing myself that I was actually OK, that these sharp, jabbing, sometimes-debilitating pains were just indigestion or too much Hydroxycut, and when the woman from the ultrasound place called and told me to come in at 2:30, I seriously considered telling her not to worry about it, that I was totally all better now.<br />
<br />
Good thing I didn't.<br />
<br />
The ultrasound showed an inflamed/enlarged appendix, my blood work came back with high white blood cells (or something like that, I don't really listen that well), and before I knew it I was being stabbed with IV needles and put into a gown and told to lay in a bed and wait for the surgeon to call me up for an appendectomy that night.<br />
<br />
GOD. As if I have time for this nonsense.<br />
<br />
And you know, I am not a very good patient.<br />
<br />
Proof:<br />
<br />
1. I told Nurse #1 (who was very nice, by the way), to...uhhh..."go away". But I didn't <i>exactly</i> say "go away". I said something a <i>teeny</i> bit more colorful than that. She was trying to put the IV in my hand. I told her that when I was having my son they missed four times and I passed out and that was awful, so please please please don't miss. She said she'd<i> try</i> not to miss. Whoa. Hold the phone. Excuse me? She'll TRY not to miss? Doesn't she know that dumb saying "do or do not, there is no try"? So then my already-high anxiety shot up about 500 million times higher, and I was crying and flopping around dramatically and just overall losing my shit. She told me very nicely that I needed to calm down or she couldn't get it in. I told her not so nicely that it would be best if she, uh, "went away." She did. Then I ugly-cried into Shawn's chest for 15 minutes straight.<br />
<br />
2. Nurse #2 came a half hour later to attempt the whole IV business again. He had a friendlier approach - trying to chat with me about summer holidays, my tan, people we knew, etc. I wanted no part of this small talk. I wanted him to take his big stupid needle and, well, "go away". He got it into my arm on the first try (points for Nurse #2). However, when he finished, I informed him that I was quite sure it was in the wrong spot. He very nicely told me that it was absolutely in the right spot. I insisted that he obviously did it wrong, and that it was for sure going to break in there and I'd be left with needle chunks floating through my veins and would probably get an infection and die. He politely told me that none of that would happen. Then he left. I don't know why - we were having a perfectly delightful conversation.<br />
<br />
3. I had an argument with Nurse #2 about my underwear. He told me to take it off when I put on my gown. I told him that I was not going to do that. He said I had to. I said too bad. He said you have to for the surgery. I said I don't really care. He said seriously, you have to be naked under your gown. I said seriously, I will NOT be removing my underwear. We went back and forth like this for awhile. My underwear stayed on.<br />
<br />
4. When it was finally time to have the operation, at about 8:30 at night, the anesthetist guy that gives you the good drugs came over to get some information. He asked if there was anything they should know before going in. I said, "actually, yes, you should know that I really hate this, I think it completely sucks, I don't like you or anyone in this hospital, and I really don't want to be here, and do people ever die from appendectomies? And also I'd like to go home now." He just nodded and made a little note on his clipboard. I'm pretty sure it said "this bitch is crazy."<br />
<br />
5. Once I got wheeled in to the Operating Room, I started to freak out because it was very cold in there. I was sure something was wrong. I demanded to know if this was the appropriate temperature for an OR. I was assured that it was.<br />
<br />
6. I informed everyone in that OR that I was, quote, "their worst nightmare." Then I asked the surgeon if he was SURE he knew how to do this.<br />
<br />
7. When the anesthetic guy started pumping something into my IV, it was very very cold, and I started to panic. I was crying and yelling that my arm really hurt and it was much too cold and that I was totally going to be paralyzed on my entire left side now because clearly, YOU PEOPLE USED THE WRONG STUFF!!! He said no, they did not use the wrong stuff, then the OR nurse gave him a little nudge, raised her eyebrows, and held up the rubbery mask full of gassy druggy goodness as if to say "shall we shut her up right now?", and he quickly nodded and she quickly stuffed it over top of my face and while very sweetly wiping my tears, told me to breathe...breathe...breathe...<br />
<br />
8. ...and then I woke up. And immediately asked if I could have a Diet Coke. I wish I was making that up. I'm not. (For the record, they said no. But I did get to have some lemon Jell-O.) And when I woke up, as luck would have it, I was also shamelessly belting out the song "Cruise" by Florida Georgia Line. I truly believed that it was only happening in my head. I was quietly and discreetly told that no, it was not actually in my head at all. Now, my singing voice is horrific at the best of times. My singing voice after a surgery that included having a tube shoved down my throat? Well, I'm just gonna go on believing that it was all in my head.<br />
<br />
And now, here I am, almost a week later, minus an appendix but with my first ever ER story to tell.<br />
<br />
Worth it?<br />
<br />
All of the medical professionals who had to deal with my crazy ass probably don't think so!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-31107840736399506412013-07-15T14:31:00.000-07:002013-07-15T14:33:16.261-07:00Adventures in AlbertaYeah, yeah, I know. I haven't been on here in awhile and you've really missed me.<br />
<br />
Whatever. You're fine.<br />
<br />
So we just got back from a family vacation to the exotic destination of...<br />
<br />
...wait for it...<br />
<br />
<i>Alberta!!!</i><br />
<br />
It was a great time. We had friends to visit in Edmonton and Calgary, and Shawn's family to see in Lethbridge. So, we started out at 9:30am one Friday morning, made our way up to Edmonton, and stayed in each place for three nights.<br />
<br />
It was a shit load of driving.<br />
<br />
There are a few things I learned during this family vacation, and I've decided that your life might be better if you learn them too.<br />
<br />
1. After driving for 9+ hours through nothing but freaking mountains and trees and those sheep with the big-ass horns, the flat prairies are actually kind of a welcome change.<br />
<br />
2. But then after about two hours, you're like holy shit - I NEED SOME MOUNTAINS, and WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE TREES?!<br />
<br />
3. Sometimes, when you get to your destination after all of that time in the vehicle, your friend who you haven't seen in three months will be like, <i>"let's drink some vodka!"</i> And because you've been in the car with your kids and husband for seven thousand hours listening to Blake Shelton's song 'Boys Round Here' on repeat because it's the kids' favorite, you're like <i>"that's a great idea, make mine a double!"</i> I'm going to stop you right here and let you know that actually, it is NOT a great idea. Because chances are, the vodka drinks your friend mixes up, taste just like fruity bubbly water. But it is NOT just fruity bubbly water. It has VODKA in it. And so the next day, you will have to change your plans of going to the waterslides at West Edmonton Mall to the following day instead, because when both mommas want to hurl, swirling waterslides and wave pools sound like a TERRIBLE idea.<br />
<br />
4. Speaking of the waterslides at West Edmonton Mall, if you are wearing a swimsuit with a fairly deep cut in front, please be aware of the fact that there is a 100% chance that your boobs will pop out of it while you're bouncing around in the wave pool. The poor souls nearest to me were very, very happy that I have lightning-fast reflexes when it comes to wardrobe malfunctions.<br />
<br />
5. This one here is a guarantee: about 10 minutes after you pull away from a town and pass the sign that says "no fuel for 150 kilometers", somebody in the vehicle (and not necessarily a child) is going to announce that they need to go poop. RIGHT.NOW. That person will also refuse to use the outhouses along the way, so you get 150 km worth of Dad doing his best Mike Meyers "got a wee bit of a turtle-head poking out" impression, along with the whining and the bouncy-poop-dance courtesy of whoever it is that needs to go.<br />
<br />
6. The iPod Touch is the best invention ever invented, EVER. If Steve Jobs wasn't dead and I got to meet him in real life I would totally kiss him right on the mouth. Thank you, Apple. THANK YOU FOR EXISTING, and making road trips with children bearable.<br />
<br />
7. All that shit you packed, just in case? You don't need it. You do NOT need any of the following: lacrosse sticks and balls, along with other various pieces of sporting equipment; three bags of electronic shit; two bags for EACH kid filled with random crap from their bedrooms that they threw in last minute because they suddenly decided that living without said crap for 10 days sounded like torture; the stuff you use to make your hair look fancy (holidays = ponytails); enough food for six days trapped in the woods; your workout gear (let's face it, you're not going to be working out when you're too busy slamming back vodka like it's your job). You DO need underwear, shoes, some clothes, your phone, your camera, and your wallet. That's it. And maybe a few snacks. THAT'S IT. Stop. Packing. Now.<br />
<br />
8. Wine is VERY cheap in Alberta. We (I) spent an embarrassing amount of time in the Costco Liquor Store. My favorite wine is Cupcake Red Velvet. The cheapest I've ever gotten it for here is about $20. <i>IT WAS $9.89 IN ALBERTA!!!</i><br />
<br />
9. Gas is cheap, too. Cheaper than here, anyway!<br />
<br />
10. Riding the bus to the Calgary Stampede at 8:00 in the morning with 100 million other people is NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT FUN.<br />
<br />
11. When you get to the Calgary Stampede, a large part of it is the carnival. <a href="http://momma-jamie-k.blogspot.ca/2012/04/un-fair.html" target="_blank">And you know how I feel about THAT. </a>Only instead of 1000 people being there, there are 125,000 people. I'll let you go ahead and imagine just how delightful I found <i>that</i> experience to be.<br />
<br />
12. 125,000 people were at the Calgary Stampede on the day we went. Far too many people touched me that day.<br />
<br />
13. As it happens, the Calgary Stampede was a lot more fun when I was younger.<br />
<br />
14. I think I'm narcoleptic when I am a passenger. I fell asleep on the bus in Calgary, complete with snoring and my mouth wide-open (yes, Shawn took a picture. No, you absolutely can not see it!) I also tend to fall asleep while Shawn's driving, but it happens so quickly that often he is mid-sentence when I do the ol' head-bob and wake up 10 minutes later with drool running down my chin and into my lap.<br />
<br />
15. Finally, family vacations are, overall, a pretty good time - even with all the driving and arguing and getting lost and needing to pee at the worst possible times. That said, I'm glad we're home!<br />
<br />
Wherever it is you're off to this summer - have fun and be safe!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-15836048239095461932013-04-25T20:51:00.000-07:002017-03-03T19:48:51.066-08:00Cake Boss. Or not.I think I'm a pretty decent mom.<br />
<br />
My kids don't want for much. I'm around all the time. They get awesome birthday parties and they have a pretty fair amount of freedom for their ages and they have nice clothes and lots of toys and they're involved in lots of activities and our house is always clean and welcoming to their friends at any time.<br />
<br />
Also, I bake. Because moms are supposed to bake.<br />
<br />
And I will tell you, I am a damn good baker.<br />
<br />
My friend C loves my banana bread. One time we were at their house and she was in their baby's room feeding him and I was digging through their freezer looking for something (probably ice or maybe a frozen snack, I don't really know, I make myself at home at my friends' houses) and I noticed some frozen bananas and I said to her husband S, "hey, want me to take these and make some banana bread for you?" And he's like, no, that's OK. And then C yelled from the baby's room down the hall, "WHEN JAMIE OFFERS TO MAKE US BANANA BREAD, YOU SAY YES!!!!!!!!!!!"<br />
<br />
I make these white chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that are so good they would make you cry.<br />
<br />
I bake muffins, scones, brownies (not those kind, don't be weird), all kinds of cookies, tarts, pies...<br />
<br />
But I cannot, to save my life, bake a decent cake.<br />
<br />
Most of the "good mom" boxes are ticked. But my kids totally lost the mom lottery when it comes to cake.<br />
<br />
This one time, I decided to try to bake a red velvet cake from scratch, complete with cream cheese frosting. It took me forEVER. And it was the single most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth (ha ha, OK, NEVER MIND!) I tried to pawn it off on my parents because my dad will eat anything, but his exact words were, "This must be what evil tastes like." I have no idea what the hell happened, but that cake was absolutely awful. And the frosting (sugar and cream cheese, not sure how you screw that up, but I sure did a good job of it) left an aftertaste that I swear I still taste every time I see a red velvet cake.<br />
<br />
On AJ's second birthday, the cake I made (from a box) refused to come out of the pan in one piece. It kind of fell out in chunks and I scraped the rest out with a spatula. So, I put it all on a plate and covered the whole entire mess in (canned pre-made Betty Crocker) frosting and dumped a box of Smarties on it. He was only 2, but I swear to God he looked at that cake and then at me and thought, "you crazy woman, I might only be 2 and you might think you've pulled a fast one on me by distracting me with all of those Smarties, but if you think I'm actually going to eat that shit you are out of your ever lovin' mind."<br />
<br />
Even the cake mixes from the store hate me. They fall flat in the oven and then they laugh in my face.<br />
<br />
It's very sad.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Mackenzie has been dying to try to make cake pops. She knows I suck at cakes, so really it was kind of insensitive of her to even make such a request, but I found a kit at Costco and it was like $3.97 (in retrospect, I should've known from the price alone that this was a terrible idea) so I bought it and after school today, we attempted to make cake pops.<br />
<br />
And guess what?<br />
<br />
They didn't work.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what I did wrong. I followed the directions. But the stupid balls of cake were just sliding down the stupid sticks and they wouldn't stay and my hands were disgusting and sticky and covered in this slimy sticky cake/frosting concoction as I tried to roll them into balls and then the sticks would get all dirty because HOW are you supposed to use BOTH hands to roll the stupid cake balls AND use the same hands to put the cake balls on the stick WITHOUT getting the stick all gross and dirty?!? HOW, I ASK YOU?!?<br />
<br />
And the kids were watching me in amazement, and Mackenzie's like this is SO not what they look like in the commercial, you know, Mom, this is not going well...<br />
<br />
And I'm like SHUT UP, I CAN DO THIS!!<br />
<br />
And AJ's like, Mom, it kind of looks like poop on a stick...<br />
<br />
And I'm like YOU ARE GOING TO EAT THESE DAMN CAKE POPS!!!<br />
<br />
Then they're like, well Mom, the cake balls are sliding down the stick...and when we try to pick them up and dip them in the melted chocolate, it gets too heavy and the cake falls off the sticks completely...<br />
<br />
And I'm like OH MY GOD, I NEED A GLASS OF WINE!!!<br />
<br />
And then we rolled the whole thing into a giant pile of sticky cake pop mess and picked off pieces of it and dipped it in chocolate and sprinkles and ate it with our hands.<br />
<br />
It was disgusting.<br />
<br />
And the worst part?<br />
<br />
I BOUGHT TWO OF THOSE DAMN KITS!!!!<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-70483598485213734942013-03-05T20:22:00.002-08:002016-04-29T22:53:43.185-07:00It gets better. I promise.OK, so maybe I can't "promise", turns out I'm not actually <i>that</i> powerful (wait, <i>WHAT!??!</i>)<br />
<br />
But I can say with a fair amount of certainty that no matter what kids might be thinking right now, high school is not the be-all, end-all of your life. In fact, it actually has no bearing whatsoever on what your life can, and likely will, become.<br />
<br />
I just finished watching a special on bullying on CNN (I know, right. Look at me, watching the news!) It was done in conjunction with the new movie Bully, which is a documentary put together by Lee Hirsch that follows five different families for one school year, documenting their problems with bullying in different U.S. schools. I haven't watched the movie yet, and frankly I'm not sure I'd be able to - just this CNN show had me in tears - and it made me worry for my kids and their generation.<br />
<br />
Bullying is an epidemic. Does that sound dramatic to you? Because I really don't think that it does. And it frustrates me to absolutely no end that it is allowed to continue. So why is that? WHY is it allowed to continue? Who do we blame for this? Who is allowing this to happen?<br />
<br />
Well, let's start at home.<br />
<br />
How many parents have talked to their kids about respect?<br />
<br />
Hopefully all of us.<br />
<br />
How many parents have talked to their kids about including others? Or speaking nicely to, and about, people?<br />
<br />
I'd say, again, hopefully all of us.<br />
<br />
Now, how many parents are guilty of pointing out someone in a store - maybe someone largely overweight, or with some crazy outfit on, and perhaps making fun of or rolling their eyes at that person? How many parents have talked about a friend of theirs, a coach of their kids', a teacher, an in-law, etc etc etc, either to their faces or behind their backs, in some mean or inappropriate way? <br />
<br />
Don't lie to me. We've all done that.<br />
<br />
And here's the thing:<br />
<br />
Kids understand a hell of a lot more than we give them credit for.<br />
<br />
They see you roll your eyes at someone who looks different than you. They hear you making comments about that family that has less than you do. They heard you call their sports coach an asshole, or make a derogatory statement about someone who's lifestyle choice is one you don't agree with, or have a name-calling argument with your spouse. So no matter how much you try to teach them respect and to treat others fairly, until you can do it yourself and actually model the behavior, you're totally wasting your time, because learning appropriate behavior and the value of respect all begins at home...and it starts a hell of a lot earlier than the beginning of the school-age years.<br />
<br />
How many parents have told their kids that some people are gay? Or that some people hold different religious or political beliefs than your family does? And
furthermore, that it is all absolutely OK, and that people are individuals
who are allowed to think whatever thoughts they want, and make whatever choices they wish, so long as they
aren't hurting someone or infringing upon the rights of others?<br />
<br />
How many parents have told their kids that if someone chooses to wear an outfit that you think is weird, or be friends with someone you don't like, or spend all their time doing an activity that you think is stupid, then that's their choice and...<i><b>news flash, kids!!</b>...</i>you actually don't get to have any say in it?<br />
<br />
Tell your kids that it's OK to be different. That's it's OK to love whoever you love, and believe whatever you believe. That other people have the same rights you do - which means THEY are allowed to wear what they want, and THEY are allowed to love who they want, and THEY are allowed to believe what they wish and do what they like. Remind them how much words and actions can hurt.<br />
<br />
Tell your kids that it's OK to be brave, and to stand up to people who are bullies, and remind them that the bullies are the ones with the real problem - and use the opportunity to teach them a little empathy. Maybe the bully needs a voice. Maybe he (or she) isn't being heard at home. Maybe he's the one who's really afraid. Maybe he needs a friend. Maybe you could be that for him.<br />
<br />
The show on CNN made a great statement. It said that this is not an anti-bullying campaign; it's a movement. So as fearful as I am for my kids and their generation, I am also a tiny bit hopeful that as they grow, the problem of bullying will get less and less, as kids learn to stand up for themselves and for each other. Hopefully, parents, teachers, coaches, extended families, big kids, little kids, <i>everyone</i>, will understand and teach that bullying in any form is wrong and unacceptable. It is NOT "kids being kids". Anything that is done to another human being that violates their basic rights is not OK, ever, EVER, and our kids need to start being taught that, as early as possible, by <i>us</i> - their parents - at home.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-76554689926635219412013-01-26T21:17:00.001-08:002013-01-26T21:20:01.281-08:00Private parts.AJ: "Mom, will you lay with me before I go to sleep?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Of course, buddy."<br />
<br />
We climb in to his bed. Normally, we use this time to talk about our day, hockey, school, Pokemon, video games, cool new apps...if I only I knew the turn our conversation would take tonight.<br />
<br />
AJ: "You know, it's always the Daddy who makes the baby."<br />
<br />
Me: "Um. Really?"<br />
<br />
AJ: "Yep. But how does he do it? How does a daddy make a baby so it gets to the mom's tummy?"<br />
<br />
At this point, I'm thinking it's best that I pretend I'm asleep. So I start to fake-snore.<br />
<br />
AJ: "MOM! YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING! I want to know how the daddy makes the baby!"<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
Me: "AJ, it takes a daddy AND a mommy to make a baby. The daddy doesn't do it by himself."<br />
<br />
AJ: "Oh, he does."<br />
<br />
Me: "Trust me, dude. He doesn't."<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, then, how?"<br />
<br />
Jesus Murphy, where the hell is Shawn when I need him!?! Why is he NEVER around when these questions are randomly tossed out??? <br />
<br />
Me: "Um. Well, there's a special kind of loving that mommies and daddies do together, that make a baby. It starts out a teeny tiny little dot and grows into a baby in the mom's tummy. That's why her belly always gets so fat."<br />
<br />
AJ: "And I know the babies look weird when they're in there." Touche, kid. They totally do. He continues: "Animals give birth, you know."<br />
<br />
Not sure where he learned the term "give birth". But whatever.<br />
<br />
Me: "People do too, buddy, that's how the baby gets out."<br />
<br />
AJ: "But when animals give birth, the baby comes out of the mom's butt."<br />
<br />
Oh for God's sake. I better clarify this before he scares his sister into severe constipation by telling her she might poop out a baby one day. <br />
<br />
Me: "NO, IT DOES NOT."<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, not exactly her butt. It comes out of her private parts, and there is A LOT of blood!"<br />
<br />
OK, never mind, clarification not needed, he's clearly schooled in the subject. And he's not finished yet: "It's a good thing people babies don't come out of private parts. They come out of tummies, and that is NOT a private part."<br />
<br />
Then, as quick as it all started and before I could think of what to say, the conversation was over. He said he was tired of talking and fell asleep in about two seconds.<br />
<br />
And I quietly left his bed, thankful that I had c-sections and have never had the need to explain that babies sometimes come out of va-jay-jays.<br />
<br />
Whew.<br />
<br />
Hopefully it's another 5 years before this topic comes up again.<br />
<br />
I need a glass of wine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-90717422204551653302013-01-19T16:07:00.001-08:002013-01-19T16:08:21.070-08:00Wah, wah, wah.You ever have those times when you're like, ugh, oh my God, my life sucks, I'm so busy, there's not enough time in the day, my kids are being jerks, this house is a mess, my husband doesn't help me, I'm so fat, blah blah blah...<br />
<br />
I am SO in the midst of one of those right now.<br />
<br />
I've mentioned my <a href="http://momma-jamie-k.blogspot.ca/2012/12/my-son-is-funny.html" target="_blank">lack of the sympathy gene</a> before, and the truth is, that extends to myself too. I'm not one to sit around and feel sorry for myself for long. So, I know that I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and get the F over it.<br />
<br />
But before I do that, I am going to bitch about it to you for awhile. <i>You're welcome.</i><br />
<br />
School is BANANAS right now. Absolutely mother effing bananas. Classes three days a week, then two full days of practicum. Classes are busy and only going to get busier with projects and exams on the horizon. My two days of practicum have been a hugely eye opening experience - it's been a huge learning curve for me. It's <i>work</i>. And my school schedule does not allow me to be at my kids' school nearly as much as I'd like, and I have to miss one of my son's twice-weekly hockey practices because of class, and I don't have as much of my own social time as I would normally like, and I do feel like I'm missing out.<br />
<br />
I am SUCH a fat mess right now that I want to take my fancy little bathroom scale and throw it through a window. I am so pissed off at that thing. THE NUMBER NEVER CHANGES. What the hell, scale?? Remember that time we used to be friends? And I could take a couple detox days where all I consumed was fruit, water and Hydroxycut and you would drop by like, 5 pounds just like that? WHAT HAPPENED TO THOSE DAYS!? Is it because I'm getting old? Is it because sometimes I sneak into McDonalds, or eat the leftovers out of my kids lunches? Is it because I started eating vegetables too late in life so you are punishing me? Or are you just broken? Need new batteries? Come on, scale. Tell me what's wrong. Let's be friends again!<br />
<br />
Home life is crazy town. I am so busy with school, and so damn tired by the end of the week, that keeping up with laundry and housework is becoming a bit of a struggle. I have found the good sense to at least start meal planning, so we're not having cereal three nights a week like we did last semester, but this weekend I'll be lucky to get away with *only* six loads of laundry. Sigh.<br />
<br />
And now, for the "getting the F over it" part...a little perspective:<br />
<br />
There are only 85 days left in my semester, and that's it - then I will be finished school.<br />
<br />
The things I am learning in my practicum will be priceless when it comes to getting a job.<br />
<br />
When the semester finishes, I will still have two and a half months to be at my kids school as much as I want. And you know what? I'm actually OK with having to sit in a freezing cold hockey arena to watch a bunch of 6-year-olds "play hockey" only once a week instead of twice.<br />
<br />
I might not have a lot of social time right now, but my friends are amazing. They have been so supportive and so helpful with everything, whether it's looking after my kids when I'm at school, or taking them off my hands for a few hours so I can study, or even mixing me a couple vodka sodas when I show up at their houses on a Friday afternoon after a totally insane week.<br />
<br />
I am a size 8. Last I checked, that hardly qualifies as a "fat mess." And guess what: I'll never stop eating at McDonalds. Never. So suck it, scale.<br />
<br />
I have time to sit and update this blog - so obviously the laundry mountain isn't worrying me THAT much.<br />
<br />
My husband is a pretty good dude. He picks up the slack when I need him to (even if he has no concept of "sticking to the list" when I send him to the grocery store).<br />
<br />
My kids are bright, healthy, happy, well-adjusted little beings. <br />
<br />
I am very, very lucky.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I just need to remind myself of that.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-71298315389058785442013-01-04T09:05:00.001-08:002013-01-04T09:15:28.160-08:00Veggie Tales.It's a new year, it's resolution time, and dammit, I'm going to make my family (and myself) eat some vegetables if it kills me.<br />
<br />
This is hard. Like REALLY hard. You have no idea. I hate vegetables. I'm not sure why they exist. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Unless is something steamed that I can then use as a vessel for as much melted Velveeta as I can fit on my plate, I ain't interested. Raw veggies - no. Cooked veggies - HELL no. Salad - well, OK, maybe, but it has to have a LOT of Ranch dressing on it, or be one of those super fattening awesome salads that have like candied nuts and cranberries and avocado and a ton of feta cheese in them.<br />
<br />
Now, my husband is a tiny bit better than me when it comes to veggies, but since the kids and I hate them, I rarely make them with our dinner, and he does not complain about it - so it's safe to say, our vegetable consumption has declined considerably in the last year. So, during the last week of December, I told my family that every night starting January 1, we would be eating at least one vegetable with our supper.<br />
<br />
Mackenzie cried. Like actually CRIED. Then she refused to speak of it in any way. Whenever I would say something like, "OK, I'm off to the grocery store, what kind of veggie do you want to try?" she would stare at me blankly, close her mouth, make a zipping motion over it, and cover her ears.<br />
<br />
Dramatic?<br />
<br />
Well, yes. She IS mine, after all.<br />
<br />
Here's how it's gone so far:<br />
<br />
January 1, we went to my parents house for dinner. The kids declared that whenever we have dinner at Grandma's, the veggie rule does not apply. Grandma agreed fully while on her way to get AJ his second bowl of Froot Loops. Shawn and I decided, well if THEY don't have to eat them, then neither do we! So, thanks, Mom. That was super helpful. <b>Day 1: FAIL.</b><br />
<br />
January 2, we had a little something I like to call "Crap From The Fridge" for dinner. I love having Crap From The Fridge (sometimes also called Crap From The Freezer). We had had a New Years Eve party, so there were a lot of leftovers, and the mission that night was to get rid of it all. Crap From The Fridge is a mission to kind of clean out the fridge, so it means I take everything out, heat it up as necessary, and put it all out like a smorgasbord on the dining room table, and we pick and choose what we want. New Years leftovers included a lot of raw veggies, so everyone had quite a big selection of what they could try. AJ did well - he had some orange pepper, and like 9 baby carrots. Mackenzie, on the other hand, managed to choke down one baby carrot (the tiniest one she could fish out of the bag), which she covered in Ranch and gagged her way through with tears in her eyes. Honestly, you'd have thought it was a baby carrot covered in baby poop by the way she was gagging and choking and carrying on. <b>Day 2: Meh. Good for AJ. Not good for Kenz.</b><br />
<br />
January 3, they got yet another reprieve, as we had the much loved Breakfast For Supper. Veggies don't really go with breakfast, so I let them each have a banana instead. <b>Day 3: FAIL (but that was my fault.)</b><br />
<br />
I'm only 1 for 3. Gotta balance that out tonight. This resolution is not going well, and it's only Day 4!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-90870149227463744132012-12-12T21:26:00.000-08:002012-12-12T21:31:19.240-08:00Happy.With the holiday season now in full swing, I have to say that I am feeling especially mushy this year.<br />
<br />
Which is weird - me and mushiness don't exactly go together.<br />
<br />
I have always loved the Christmas season, for as long as I can remember. I've always seen it as a magical time of year, and even as I get older and have my own family now and it's significantly more stressful than it ever used to be, it is still, if you will, "the most wonderful time of the year".<br />
<br />
The beginning of the holiday season, I will admit, was a little touch-and-go. I was kind of stressed about the end of my semester at school, and the dreaded Psychology final was looming. Then there was my work Christmas party, which was a super fun time, but let's just say that this momma walked (uh, stumbled) away with a horrible two-day-long martini flu that left me bedridden and wishing I could just take my bucket and crawl into a dark hole somewhere and stay there for a few days with a blanket over my head and an endless supply of McDonalds french fries with extra salt. It was awful, but thankfully, the hangover from hell was not a prediction of things to come!<br />
<br />
I'm just going to go ahead and say that I ROCKED my first semester. 3 A+'s, and 1 A- (OK, if I'm being totally honest I have to say that A- pissed me off a little, but it was for my health care/nursing class, and it was only a couple of years ago that I learned that pee and babies come out of different places, so really, I suppose I should be celebrating that A- with vigor.) Anyway, it would be a huge understatement to say that I am proud of these results. I pulled pretty incredible marks, at my rusty old age, with a family at home that I still needed to keep fed and clean, while shuttling them around town and volunteering time at the kids' school and working a few hours at the radio station and keeping this house in one piece...all <i>on top of</i> my studies. My husband is amazing, he was incredibly understanding through all of it (we did have cereal for supper more times than I'd like to admit), and I couldn't have done it without the encouragement and endless support from him, my parents, and my friends. Going in to my next semester with grades like this feels pretty bloody good.<br />
<br />
Next - I've been lucky to be able to spend a lot of time lately with my cousin's baby, E. She is the cutest damn thing in the whole entire world. She's about 18 months now, and she is so much fun. A couple of weeks ago, she and I were playing with my iPhone, and I headed over to Youtube to play her some videos. For some crazy reason, and I have no idea why I even did this, I opened up Gangnam Style by Psy - which is, hands down, the weirdest music video I have ever seen. Well, she LOVED it - and when I say love, I mean the kind of love that only an 18-month-old can show. She will sit in my lap and watch it over and over and OVER again (she knows exactly when it's going to end, and how to re-start it), and when I try to play any other video, she kiboshes it by reaching out her tiny little finger and shutting the phone off. When I shut the phone down after watching Gangnam Style 3 or more times in a row, she will kick and scream and cry and try to grab for the phone until I hide it somewhere so she can't see it. All she wants to watch is that silly video. Whenever she sees that I have my phone in my hand, she will drop what she's doing, run over and frantically say "STY! STY! STY! STY!" until I put it on for her. It is CUTE. That video has something like 950 million views on Youtube, and I'm pretty sure E and I are responsible for that last 50 mil.<br />
<br />
Keeping in the theme of E, and kids, I love how much my kids and her love each other. Watching them interact, especially AJ, makes me smile. E adores him, she loves to copy him and chase him around, and he will do absolutely anything to make her laugh. Mackenzie loves to play momma, and hold her hand, and teach and show her things. I love that they have a little person like her in their lives!<br />
<br />
On a sad note, a tragic story came early this week with the accidental death of two teachers from a community close to ours. I do not know this couple, nor do I know anybody who knew them, but when I read the story I cried and cried. She was 7 months pregnant. They were killed in a car accident when their vehicle went off the road and ended up in the river. It was absolutely heartbreaking. Stories like this one can shake you to your core, and force you to remember the things - the PEOPLE - that are most important in your life; and to make sure you remember to tell them that, with words as well as actions, every chance you get.<br />
<br />
With that, I wish you and yours the happiest of the holiday season. Remember the important things. Don't stress. Remember how lucky you are in so many ways. Give where you can - time, money, whatever you have to offer. Pay it forward. Hold your family close and tell them how much you love them. Watch the holidays unfold through the eyes of your children, or any child, and try to remember the magic that you felt at that age at this time of year. Pile your whole family into mom and dad's bed and read stories and sing Christmas songs as loud as you can. Be calm. Be grateful. Eat, drink and be merry.<br />
<br />
Just stay away from the martini bar.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-18001832943755808882012-12-05T10:01:00.002-08:002012-12-05T10:01:44.648-08:00My son is funny.<br />
So, <a href="http://momma-jamie-k.blogspot.ca/2012/11/the-jig-is-upmaybe.html">the whole Santa thing with AJ</a>? He's not as smart as we once believed.<br />
<br />
AJ (with a big, unconvinced sigh): "Well, Dad, it looks like Santa actually is real after all."<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Oh, really, buddy, what makes you say that?"<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, because we put out cookies and diet Coke for him every year, and he ALWAYS eats them!"<br />
<br />
HA HA HA, kid, joke's on you! I love that he's figured out that Santa isn't real, but just can't figure out who eats the cookies...and really, shouldn't the diet Coke be the giveaway???<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
It's kind of a running joke that I was born without the sympathy gene. If you're looking for someone to feel sorry for you when you have a cold, I'm not your girl. I am not one who is going to coddle and baby you and "ooooooh, poor you, oh no, are you OK, tell me more about your flu and all the barfing you just did, blah blah blah" when you are sick. You're sick, it sucks, I'm very sorry about that but everyone gets sick, it's called life, so just stop whining, stay in bed, sleep, drink your apple juice and zip it. (I'm referring to adult sick people here, not kids). Anyway, Mackenzie's been sick, and this kid is a total rockstar when she's sick. (She is SO my kid. I have no tolerance for pain, but I am the best sick person ever!) So when she says something feels bad, or hurts, you KNOW she really means it. So last week, she's trying to eat her toast, and there are tears welling up in her eyes.<br />
<br />
Me: "Oh, baby, are you OK?"<br />
<br />
Mackenzie (almost crying): "It REALLY hurts when I swallow my food, and my ear is soooooo sore!" (now starts really crying.)<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, SUCK IT UP, SALLY!"<br />
<br />
Huh. Clearly that old 'sympathy gene' skips two generations.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-26683809670967066652012-11-18T20:53:00.000-08:002012-11-18T20:55:43.906-08:00I don't understand zombies.I totally love having my back massaged.<br />
<br />
So, LUCKY SHAWN, whenever he is in his Calgary-Flames-Barfed-In-Here-Man-Den, kicking back in his leather recliner, watching his PVR and trying to relax, I slink quietly to the door, stand there super-quiet til he notices me, then I tilt my head all cute-like and open my eyes super wide and say in a super sweet and adorable voice, "will you pleeeeeeease rub my back?" (I love that I say it's all "cute". In reality I probably look like I'm having a stroke.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, because he loves me and actually thinks I AM sweet and adorable (OK, it's either that or the fact that he knows damn well I'm not going anywhere til I get what I want, it's just a fight he won't win), he says "ugh. Fine. Sit down." And he straightens up that fancy recliner and I sit on the floor and he rubs my shoulders.<br />
<br />
Now, this obviously works for me, I get my massage, BUT the trade-off is that I have to watch some stupid show of his, like Family Guy or Game of Thrones or that new one he only watches because the hot girl from "Chuck" is in it, or that one with the zombies in jail.<br />
<br />
Yeah, Walking Dead. That's it.<br />
<br />
So that's the one that was on tonight.<br />
<br />
Me: "I don't get this. Is he a zombie?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Does he LOOK like a zombie?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Well how the hell would I know what a zombie looks like?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Zombies are dead. It looks like a gross dead person."<br />
<br />
Me: "Well that's stupid, why don't they make it so they can morph into something super hot, like on True Blood?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Because this is not True Blood. Now shut up."<br />
<br />
I'm quiet for a minute. But then I can't help myself.<br />
<br />
Me: "Is that baby a zombie?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "NO!! STOP TALKING!" <br />
<br />
Me: "I'M JUST ASKING!!"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Why would I give you a bunch of detail about a show you don't care about??!"<br />
<br />
Me: "I <i>do</i> care!! Are they in jail?"<br />
<br />
Shawn (with a MAJOR eyeroll, my back was to him but I could totally feel it): "Yes. Zombie jail."<br />
<br />
Me: "Do the zombies walk amongst the living?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "I mean it, STOP. TALKING. NOW."<br />
<br />
I'm quiet again.<br />
<br />
Me: "What is that guy doing in the jail? Or lady? Is that a man or a lady?"<br />
<br />
Shawn (sighing in defeat, clearly I'm not shutting up. Once again, I win): "It's a lady. She is not a zombie. The zombies don't know she's human because she is covered in zombie blood."<br />
<br />
Me: "...what the hell! This show is stupid! Why doesn't EVERYONE just cover themselves in zombie blood, then they'd all be safe from the zombies and everyone could coexist peacefully!!!!"<br />
<br />
That's about the time my massage ended.<br />
<br />
I don't think the big eyes and cute voice are going to work next time.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-19733850993347897042012-11-06T09:59:00.000-08:002012-11-06T09:59:36.734-08:00The jig is up...maybe??<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>WARNING. DO NOT LET YOUR CHILDREN READ THIS POST. I mean, really, it's a bit weird if you let your kids read my blog anyway, but whatevs, it's your choice, I'm not here to judge. I am saying, though, REPEAT: DON'T LET THEM READ THIS ONE.</b></div>
<br />
OK? We're good?<br />
<br />
Alright.<br />
<br />
So, we're walking to school yesterday morning, and out of the blue, AJ says, totally matter-of-factly: "You know, Santa's not real."<br />
<br />
Mackenzie: "OH MY GOD SHUT UP YES HE IS!!!!!!!!!"<br />
<br />
Me: "Uh, wow, look, there's a...hmmm...uh, big piece of dog poo!!!!!"<br />
<br />
AJ: "Seriously. He's not real."<br />
<br />
Mackenzie: "STOP SAYING THAT, SANTA IS TOTALLY REAL!!!"<br />
<br />
Me (because obviously the poo distraction isn't working): "OK, AJ, what makes you say Santa isn't real?"<br />
<br />
AJ: "There's no way he can do it. The only way he could possibly work is by magic, and magic is NOT real."<br />
<br />
Me (totally floundering here, Mackenzie looks horrified and AJ looks super sure of himself and I am totally taken by surprise and am not sure what the hell to say): "Well, OK, but don't you believe in the magic of Christmas? I know I do!"<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, you shouldn't believe in magic, because magic is totally fake."<br />
<br />
Then, THANK GOD, he saw a little buddy of his getting out of their vehicle and he took off running.<br />
<br />
He hasn't mentioned the whole Santa thing again, but I know my kid, and I know that he was dead serious. I was blessed with (cursed with???) an extremely logical-minded child, and he is well aware that magic is a ruse. He knows it's not real, that magic is just tricks. And so saying that Santa is "magic" just doesn't cut it. He needs a better explanation than that. He also understands that the world is a big place. He knows it takes us all day just to get to Arizona, that our friends from Australia are from the 'other side of the world', that his Grandpa lives alllllllll the way in Florida...so how the hell would Santa possibly get to every single kid in the world in one night? He has Muslim friends in his class who don't get visits from Santa. He knows that reindeer can't fly (unlike his mother, who, for an embarrassingly long time, thought that reindeer were fictional characters, like unicorns). And he knows that nobody in their right mind would ACTUALLY try to fit themselves down a chimney.<br />
<br />
The super-secure hiding of the presents, the Santa-only wrapping paper that also needs to be very well-hidden, trying to explain why Santa will NOT be bringing you a pony/a baby sister/a fancy convertible/your very own motorhome...as much as it would make my life easier for the whole Santa deal to be blown wide open (my kids will still get presents from Santa for as long as they live in this house), he's only 6. I have no intention of confirming or denying anything at this point, but I'm not sure I'm ready for him to totally stop believing.<br />
<br />
Ideas? Help me!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-31700669376300404032012-10-31T16:03:00.000-07:002012-10-31T16:03:25.431-07:00Problem SOLVED.I discovered today that I've TOTALLY been doing it <i>all wrong</i>.<br />
<br />
This is another bus story. Sorry. But honestly, this shit just writes itself.<br />
<br />
So we all know that my own personal bus rules include the following:<br />
<br />
1 - do NOT look at ANYONE for ANY reason.<br />
2 - do NOT, under any circumstances, TOUCH another person on the bus.<br />
3 - do NOT touch the bars unless it is absolutely crucial to do so (for example, in the instance where the choice is either falling on my ass or grabbing the pole, I will grab the pole).<br />
4 - keep a neutral, not friendly but not unfriendly, expression on my face.<br />
<br />
And lately, like the last two weeks, I've been having this problem where people are choosing to sit with me. In every single instance to date, there have been other available seats on the bus - in some cases, actually, MANY available seats. But for some reason, they are gravitating to me. C says it's because I'm pretty. I love C. Friends who blow sunshine up my ass are totally my favorites.<br />
<br />
Anyway, whatever the reason, I'm kinda over it. I don't like people sitting beside me. If they have no choice, fine. But there is ALWAYS another choice.<br />
<br />
So, I tried a different approach today, and I realized something: #4 IS ALL WRONG!!!!<br />
<br />
Today, instead of remaining neutral, I decided to try keeping my face in a sort of angry, unfriendly scowl-y expression. AND IT TOTALLY WORKED!!!!<br />
<br />
The bus this morning was the fullest one I've been on yet. And guess who had a seat to herself?! That's right - <i>this girl!!</i><br />
<br />
I tried it again on the way home, and IT WORKED AGAIN!!!!<br />
<br />
Let me be clear, first of all, nobody is required to stand when I am making my scowl-y mean face. Everyone still has a seat - it's just not with me! Also, it needs to be noted that I am not looking directly AT people with this ugly look on my face. I just kind of plaster it on and stare out the window or straight ahead. So I'm not actually being directly mean to anyone; I just have a look on my face that clearly says,<i> if you sit beside me I WILL TOTALLY FREAK THE F OUT SO YOU JUST BETTER NOT!!!!</i><br />
<br />
I'm so glad I discovered this. I actually can't wait til Friday when I can try it again.<br />
<br />
I might need Botox by the end of the school year, but really? A small price to pay.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-44848304423671278462012-10-27T09:48:00.001-07:002012-10-27T09:48:14.125-07:00Six years ago...A post for my son on his 6th birthday (OK, the day <i>after</i> his 6th birthday, WHATEVER, give me a break, I had a lot going on yesterday!!)<br />
<br />
Six years ago, you came into this world, tiny, wrinkled and screaming, with lots of dark hair and the cutest dimple ever, and with that you completed our family.<br />
<br />
You were a sweet baby (except with your dad, you two were NOT friends for a few months), you were fat as can be and happy as can be and you had a weird shaped head because you refused tummy time for an entire year - which is likely why you never actually crawled; instead you did this super awesome bum-scootch in which you used one hand to drag yourself across the floor while sitting up. We called it booty-scootin'. It was hilarious and amazing how good you were at it!<br />
<br />
You've been a kid who does things "his way" ever since, and I couldn't possibly be more proud of you.<br />
<br />
You should be thankful you have that adorable dimple and that killer smile - that combination has saved your ass on more occasions than you know.<br />
<br />
Your sense of humor is unmatched. Nobody makes me laugh like you. You get your sense of humor from your dad and it is another piece of you that does, and will continue to, save your ass on a regular basis - so don't ever lose it.<br />
<br />
You are so bright that it blows my mind. You were speaking easily in full sentences by 18 months, and you were reading at 4 years old. You have an incredible, mathematical mind and I have no idea where the hell that came from, but baby, <i>use it</i>.<br />
<br />
You are such a happy child, and my hope is that you are always filled with happiness. You have a positive outlook, you love to be with your friends and family, you know how to share, you are compassionate, and you would give your friends your very last Pokemon card if you knew it would make them happy.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I do wonder if you were put on this earth to test my own patience - as you, right this minute, are blowing a giant hockey game horn as loudly as you possibly can; driving your sister completely up the wall; demanding I help you with your new Lego; wanting another piece of cake; dumping out the entire art drawer just so you can find that "one crayon you NEED RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!!!" All by 9:30 on a Saturday morning.<br />
<br />
Six years has gone by way too fast, and it's only going to speed up from here. I love you to the moon, buddy - you are my most favorite little guy in the whole entire world. Happy Birthday, dude.<br />
<br />
Oh, and once again, before I finish, I'm just going to need you to promise that you'll always love your mommy more than you love your wife!!<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-28291197033127410602012-10-24T20:42:00.000-07:002012-10-24T20:49:05.947-07:00Oh, *^&@#!!So, there's something you may or may not have noticed about me:<br />
<br />
I swear like a trucker.<br />
<br />
It's not pleasant, I know this. It's not ladylike to swear (HA HA HA, I'm sorry, just typing that made me laugh out loud, it's not ladylike to do a lot of the shit I do and I can honestly say that I've never once in my life had the thought, "gee, I shouldn't do that, it's not ladylike.") And you should know that I actually am very restrained on this blog. VERY. My out-loud voice is way dirtier than my mom-blog voice.<br />
<br />
They say that people who use curse words often are either too dumb or too lazy to think of other, more appropriate words.<br />
<br />
Well, THEY can shove it up their asses.<br />
<br />
I am plenty smart enough (<a href="http://momma-jamie-k.blogspot.ca/2012/08/ill-admit-this-post-doesnt-paint-me-in.html">unless we're talking about penguins</a>), and I am definitely not lazy. I just happen to sometimes (um, often) use language that perhaps is not what some people would deem appropriate.<br />
<br />
I try to know my audience: I don't swear in front of my parents, I don't swear at school, I don't swear when I'm around people I've just met...<br />
<br />
Oh wait, never mind. I do. Sorry. I actually do all of those things. Just go ahead and scratch all that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the truth is, my potty mouth is NOT my fault. My dad is a media dude. He's been in the radio industry for EVER, and everyone in the biz knows that media folk know of words and phrases that you can't even <i>imagine</i> stringing together. Mix that with the fact that my parents had me when they were pretty young, none of their friends or siblings had any children yet, and suffice it to say, I've been exposed to some extremely colorful language from a very early age. Legend has it, when I was around 2 years old, my aunt was pushing me around in a shopping cart at a grocery store. Imagine me, cute as can be, all big fat cheeks and innocent brown eyes, busting out a charming rendition - LOUDLY - of David Allen Coe's Rodeo Song. Oh, you're not familiar with that one? Well, let me give you a few of my personal favorite lines:<br />
<br />
"Well, it's 40 below and I don't give a f***, got a heater in my truck and I'm off to the rodeo..."<br />
"...piss me off...you f***ing jerk..."<br />
"...come on you f***ing dummy, get your step right..." <br />
"...here comes Johnny with his pecker in his hand, he's a one-ball man and he's off to the rodeo..."<br />
<br />
Yes. Those sure are the real words. And I sure did know 'em all. And my poor aunt failed to shut me up, and instead had to resort to loudly proclaiming to anyone within earshot, "SHE'S NOT MINE!! THIS IS NOT MY KID!!"<br />
<br />
So, yes. I have a long, shameful past with my language.<br />
<br />
AJ's been known to bust out, "wow, mom, it's frickin' cold outside!" At three years old, he thought 'frickincold' was one word.<br />
<br />
Mackenzie has gotten in shit (trouble! I mean, trouble!) twice so far this week for saying the word shit. She doesn't yell and scream it, or say it for shock value; she says it quietly to herself when she's on the computer and makes a mistake with her Mathletics program, or when she mis-files a Pokemon card, or when Barbie's slutty little dress keeps falling down and exposing her ridiculous boobs. And whenever it happens, AJ has to gleefully run down to the kitchen to tell me "MOM! MACKENZIE SAID SHIT!" just so he has the opportunity to say it too. Then I have to remind everyone to not to say that word, that it's a grown up word and saying "shit" is just one of those things you have to wait til you're a grown-up to do, like having babies and riding motorcycles and playing poker and drinking gin and tonics.<br />
<br />
Clearly, my language needs to clean up. And I'm trying. I am. Well, I'm at least conscious of the fact that I'm doing it. That has to count for something, right? Maybe I should try a Swear Jar. I remember my mom having one when my brother and I were little and she would have to put a quarter in it every time she cursed. (Come to think of it, actually, what the hell happened to that money!?!? MOM!??!)<br />
<br />
Or, I could just say F*** IT.<br />
<br />
Yeah, let's face it. That one's most likely.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-40770330585282967832012-10-14T22:13:00.000-07:002012-10-14T22:17:13.380-07:00Hard workin' mommy.Sigh.<br />
<br />
You know what's hard?<br />
<br />
Book learnin' is hard.<br />
<br />
I've been reading. Oh, for the LOVE, there is SO much reading. <br />
<br />
I've been studying.<br />
<br />
I've been taking exams.<br />
<br />
I've been writing.<br />
<br />
I've been researching <i>(which, by the way, needs to be REFERENCED in your papers. Referencing is HARD. I suck at that part. Obviously this information came from somewhere, I didn't just make it up in my head. Why can't I just say that? "I found it in a medical journal by Dr Bob Smith." The end.)</i><br />
<br />
I've been creating projects.<br />
<br />
Not to mention the fact that I actually have to physically leave my house and go to class every day.<br />
<br />
And I have to be honest, all of this has been a HUGE adjustment. I am so used to having quite a bit of sitting-around-on-my-ass time. But even though I totally don't have ANY of that anymore? I'm kinda loving it. (OK, not the exam part. I hate exams. Who invented multiple choice?!? I'd like to find that guy and kick him in the nuts. The fact that the correct answer is RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, totally stresses me out.)<br />
<br />
Normally, I would have my days to myself while my kids are at school. In
my former life, I would use this time to do very important things.
Like play Words With Friends, and catch up on TMZ, and bake cookies, and
organize my underwear drawer. And watch PVR'd episodes of Friends
(I've got like 40 of them on there, I think Shawn thinks there's
something wrong with me, like, hello sunshine, the 90's are LONG over,
let's move on, OK??). Oh, and my personal favorite activity: buying
shit I don't need at Costco, then spending a good hour trying to think
of ways to justify my purchases when Shawn asks why the hell I bought
MORE freaking Christmas decorations and discounted bath towels.<br />
<br />
Yeah. My days at home have been numbered for awhile.<br />
<br />
And now, here's the thing: I am using my BRAIN! You know, for things other than trying to keep track of who's died so far on Grey's Anatomy (seriously, McSteamy?! Why'd they kill HIM off? He's all kinds of hot. I don't even want to watch the stupid show anymore now that Mark Sloan is gonzo. Ah, Dr. Sloan. You were <i>so</i> pretty.)<br />
<br />
And when I say that school is "hard", I should really clarify that maybe "hard" is not exactly the right word. It's just work - and a whole different kind of "work" than what I've been used to.<br />
<br />
It's good. It's fun. I'm diggin' it.<br />
<br />
But seriously, on the multiple choice. That shit is evil.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-13432140044433849922012-09-28T14:09:00.001-07:002012-09-28T14:09:16.540-07:00A bad bus day.Well, it happened. I knew it would at some point. I've been expecting it.<br />
<br />
The day came that made me never, ever, ever as long as I live, ever want to take the bus ever again in my entire life.<br />
<br />
It was Tuesday. My mom offered to pick me up from school, but I figured, by the time she gets down here I could already be on the bus, so why waste her time, right?<br />
<br />
Well. Mistake #1. The bus was 10 minutes late.<br />
<br />
So that was a slight inconvenience, but I still had lots of time, and the weather was gorgeous so waiting outside wasn't so bad, so really, it was no biggie.<br />
<br />
When it finally rolled up, I climbed up into the big ol' thing, flashed the driver my U-Pass like the expert bus-rider I am, and the first thing I notice is, holy shit, it frickin' STINKS in here. I can't describe the smell. I don't even want to try. All I know is, it's nasty, I am starting to gag, and I'm wondering if I'll be able to hold my breath all the way home??<br />
<br />
I start walking down the aisle, still overcome by the smell, and then I realize - there are no empty seats. NO EMPTY SEATS. I have to SIT with somebody. I HAVE TO SIT WITH SOMEBODY. It is bad enough when someone sits beside me, but now <i>I</i> have to go and sit beside someone else. I do not like this. I do not like it one little bit. But my only other option is to stand, and I am not coordinated enough to stand on a moving bus; if I were to try that there's a good chance I'd lose my balance and land in someone's lap and if that ever happened I think I'd cry (as would the person I land on). So, I did what I had to do: I chose the tiniest person on the bus to sit next to, and I hugged my bag tight to my chest and sat on the seat so that one ass cheek was hanging off, thus preventing any potential shoulder-bumps with the person next to me. As per my own personal bus rules, I keep my eyes straight ahead.<br />
<br />
I am not comfortable. This is not fun. I hope this guy gets off soon. Also, I should really try and lose that last 10 pounds. Maybe then my ass cheek wouldn't have to hang off the edge like this.<br />
<br />
THEN, dude-with-a-skateboard materializes from the back of the bus, and decides he needs to talk to the bus driver RIGHT NOW. I can hear him moving, so I break my rule (I'M SUCH A DUMMY!) and I turn my head to the side to look; and like it's in slow-motion and I'm powerless to stop it from happening, he grabs the pole behind me on his way past, and in the process HE TOUCHES THE SIDE OF MY FACE.<br />
<br />
Now I'm really starting to freak out and am contemplating getting off at the next stop (or flinging myself out of the bus while it's still moving, whatever) and calling my mommy to come pick me up after all.<br />
<br />
I manage to keep it together, and my seat mate gets off at the mall. WHEW. I lay my leg and my bag across the whole seat once he gets off, which I am aware is a total asshole move, but I don't care.<br />
<br />
Then, the smell comes back. What even IS that??! Is it food? B.O.? Did somebody pee their pants back there?! Is it <i>ME</i>?? Does nobody else smell this?? Can you open windows on a bus and stick your head out like a dog? Because that's totally what I want to do right now. I'm now silently choking on the stench, wondering what the driver would say about me climbing on the seat and sticking my head out the window, as the bus starts to head up a big hill. Normally, the bus whips up and down the streets at warp speed. But today? Oh, no. Today, we are CRAWLING up the hill. Because of COURSE we are; why <i>wouldn't</i> the stinkiest bus ever, also be the slowest?! I could've pushed the stupid thing and we would've gone faster.<br />
<br />
Late bus. Awful smell. Had to sit with someone. Got touched. Went slow up the hill.<br />
<br />
I might have to re-think my protest of $4-a-day parking, and drive to school every once in awhile... <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-85235765377668128642012-09-07T13:49:00.000-07:002012-09-07T13:49:16.416-07:00Look at me, all college-y!I'm back at school!!<br />
<br />
Yay, me!<br />
<br />
I just started an 8-month program at TRU, and I'm super excited about it. I know with 100% certainty that when it's all over, I will be very good at this job.<br />
<br />
But I have to get through the next 8 months first!<br />
<br />
And with a family, obviously, I have a lot of juggling to do. The giant globs of toothpaste don't clean themselves out of the sink (or off the mirror, countertop, taps, towels, light fixtures, honestly what the hell does my family do in there, can nobody spit in a straight line anymore?!?) And as happy as the kids and I might be to eat Honey Nut Cheerios for supper every night, Shawn not so much. And it's not like I can stick Mackenzie in a cab and send her down to her piano lesson, or do the kids' homework for them after they go to bed. So, I still have to clean, and cook, and shuttle kids around, and all of the things I've been doing for all these years, only now I need to add classes and homework and papers and presentations into the mix.<br />
<br />
Fun, right?<br />
<br />
Actually, I totally think it will be. I can tell you this much, after Week One: it beats the crap out of sitting at home for 6 hours waiting for my kids to finish school.<br />
<br />
On another note, I need to tell you something, let's consider this almost a confession of sorts because I still can't quite believe it's happening:<br />
<br />
I AM TAKING THE BUS!!!!!<br />
<br />
Oh, yes, I am. I know it's a little shocking considering the fact that public transit is just something I do NOT enjoy. I don't know if it's because as a kid, I took the bus everywhere - orthodontic appointments, organ lessons, to the mall with my friends, etc; or, because of the interesting clientele you tend to see on the bus; or because as I got older I developed a slight fear of germs, and let's face it, public transit is a cesspool. Whatever the reason, I've avoided public transit at all costs for the past, like, 20 years.<br />
<br />
But now, and if you tell anyone I said this I will totally tell them you're a liar...<br />
<br />
I actually don't mind it.<br />
<br />
CRAZY, RIGHT!?<br />
<br />
I have my little bus schedule in my school bag, I have my little U-Pass, and I really don't mind sitting there for the 10-15 minute ride. I can text or play Scrabble on my phone, or watch people and make up stories about them in my head, or just look out the window and not have to pay attention to the road. I mean, yeah, the minute I get home or to school, I head straight for the bathroom and scrub my hands from fingertip to elbow, but in the end, it's totally OK, this bus business.<br />
<br />
Today, though, someone SAT BESIDE ME.<br />
<br />
Yep. Right beside me. I was like, OMG, do NOT make eye contact, do NOT touch this person, OH GOD WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, WHY IS THIS PERSON SITTING NEXT TO ME, IS THIS SERIOUSLY THE <i>ONLY</i> EMPTY SEAT ON THIS WHOLE STUPID BUS!?!?!? But - and kudos to me for <i>this</i> - I remained completely calm. Stone-faced. Cool as a cucumber, that was me! I kept my eyes forward and shoved myself as close to the window as I could without seeming super-obvious that the thought of someone sitting next to me was giving me the willies. Granted, it was a teeny tiny, attractive, lovely-smelling woman, so I know it could've been so much worse, it was like the universe knew to ease me in to the fact that sometimes, people will have no other choice but to sit with me, and this lovely little woman being my first seemed like the best place to start.<br />
<br />
It was fine. I survived. I got off at the university and went to class and that was that.<br />
<br />
I did call Shawn for a ride home though.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-52953286861836145422012-08-31T17:26:00.000-07:002012-08-31T20:31:30.202-07:00Bye, Summer. There are way more than 5 reasons why I love you best.This is it.<br />
<br />
Summer is over.<br />
<br />
And what I'd really like to do, is have a big, giant, throw-myself-on-the-floor-flailing-and-kicking-and-crying-and-screaming temper tantrum over it.<br />
<br />
It <i>might</i> not help, but you never know, it's worth a shot. At the very least, it would definitely make me feel better. And it would be an excellent example for my children, no?<br />
<br />
For a couple weeks now, it's been progressively getting colder outside. And I've noticed that it's a lot easier to get the kids into bed before 9pm, because it's getting darker earlier. And I'm actually sleeping with clothes on (sorry for the visual, friends, let's just move on). Instead of being refreshing, my beloved green slushy vodka just makes me cold. We shut the A/C off a long time ago. I am trying to deny all of this, and desperately cling to summer and all the awesome that it brings, but as I sit here wrapped in fleece pajama pants, slippers and a long-sleeved shirt, my fingers ice-cold, I just can't deny it any longer.<br />
<br />
It's over.<br />
<br />
This summer was, like, the BEST SUMMER EVER. It really was.<br />
<br />
Why, you ask?<br />
<br />
Well, let me tell you. <br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> 1. I wasn't working.</b> Last summer, I had the (ridiculous) idea that maybe I should work, like, a 'real' job, outside of the house. So, I started working at Costco. And it was super fun at first, but then the 5-day schedule and busy, all-over-the-place hours just got to be way too much, and I packed it in in October. So last summer was kind of a no-fun summer. We couldn't go on any holidays, and I only had two days off every week, which were my <i>only</i> two full days to spend with my kids and clean my house and do all the running around, and yes I know this is how the rest of the world works but when you haven't worked a job like that in 6 years, it was a shock, OK!? So this time around, the kids and I had all the time in the world, and we took full advantage of it. I loved having nobody to answer to but my own family. It was awesome.<br />
<br />
<b>2. We went on two super fun holidays.</b> First to Seattle for a week, where we went to a ball game and did all sorts of touristy things and then I shopped like a crazy woman because that's just what I do when I get to America, I buy everything I see and I eat everything I see and that, my friends, is the PERFECT holiday in my eyes. Next, we went to Kootenay Lake, which was <i>kind of</i> like camping but not <i>actually</i> camping so I didn't have to sleep next to the bugs and the murderers, or be cold or drink lukewarm diet Coke out of a cooler or pee in an outhouse/public toilet; BUT we still got to have the beach at our doorstep and drink lots of beer and walk around in our pajamas, which to me is what camping SHOULD be.<br />
<br />
<b>3. I totally got my house organized from head to toe.</b> Kids rooms, basement, toys, storage room, kitchen cabinets, den closet, all of my clothes and crap I've compiled over many of the previously-mentioned shopping excursions, and etc. Nothing makes me happier than everything having a home, and baby, I purged. I cleaned. I painted. I sorted. I was like a freaking machine. And I loved it. And now, if you ask me where some random obscure kitchen tool or piece of some dumb little dollar store toy that the kids refused to part with is, I could totally tell you.<br />
<br />
<b>4. AJ grew a huge amount of confidence in the water.</b> Throughout this entire summer, my kids were in some body of water - pools, lakes, rivers, waterslides, puddles, whatever was available - and most of the time, they were with a whole bunch of their friends. Watching his little buddies do things that he was still uncomfortable with, gave him the confidence to at least TRY some of it. By the end of summer, he could swim the width of my friend N's backyard pool without his floaties; he could float on his front and back; he was confident enough to jump in, go down the slide, try somersaults underwater, and he even did a FLIP off the DIVING BOARD at my aunt and uncle's place (I kiboshed that activity the minute it happened, but he was so proud of himself, and Shawn even got it on video. It still makes my heart race when I watch it, like I'm sure <i>this time</i> he's going to crack his head open, even though that never actually happened and it's the same video every time.) Mackenzie's been a fish since about 10 weeks old, but AJ's always been more hesitant in the water, and this summer, his confidence grew 100-fold.<br />
<br />
<b>5. And lastly, T, V, D, and N. </b>Our visits and gatherings and crazy conversations that still make me laugh when I think about them, really made this summer complete. Thank you, a million times, for keeping me from going crazy this summer. And line up my shots for D.F. this school year!<br />
<br />
Later, Summer. I love you!! Now bring on Fall...<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-26312608548428959342012-08-24T21:50:00.001-07:002012-08-24T22:04:41.402-07:00This is starting to get old.I don't want my stupid disease anymore.<br />
<br />
This <i>severe anemia</i> business was fun for a minute, you know, like I could finally say I 'had' something, "oh poor me, I'm soooooo sick from the anemia, remember that time I was severely anemic, oh Shawn, please feel sorry for me and do the dishes and the housework, and you know I'm suddenly feeling tired, I think I better take a nap..."<br />
<br />
But then I had to go have more stupid blood tests. Which, of course, wasn't fun, on account of the fact that obviously it involved NEEDLES. And this time I had the kids with me too, so they got to sit in the room with me and watch their mom shaking in her flip-flops as I hoisted myself onto the bed they make the people who need a Xanax to get through a blood test use. The nurse even said, "normally I encourage children to watch me do the needle, but I think watching you would terrify them, it's probably a bad idea, so we won't let them near you while it's happening."<br />
<br />
And then I had to go to the doctor today to get the results.<br />
<br />
He's like, "You know, you have NO iron stored. None at all, like it is actually completely empty. How do you not fall down with exhaustion every day!?" I'm like, psssht, whatever man, I'm kind of a rock star like that. Who needs iron? Not this girl!<br />
<br />
He's like, "actually dummy, you DO need iron. So we're going to give it to you intravenously."<br />
<br />
When I finished laughing at the notion that this poor guy <i>actually</i> believed that I might allow someone to give me an IV, I was like, "oh, no you're not."<br />
<br />
Then he goes, "OK, then we'll do the needles in your butt. And I'm telling you, they are big, they go deep, and they REALLY hurt.<br />
<br />
And I said, "well, then, I'm not doing that either."<br />
<br />
We were at an impasse, me and Dr. K. And now we were involved in a full-out staring contest, and I was totally winning that shit, because I mean it, I am NOT doing either of those things and I was not backing down from this.<br />
<br />
Finally, he broke. "OK, fine. You can try pills instead."<br />
<br />
So he gave me a prescription, wished me luck, informed me that if I don't get my iron stores up I could have heart failure, and THEN told me that, oh yeah, by the way, those pills are totally going to make me constipated, and also he's put in a SIX-MONTH STANDING ORDER for me to get goddamn BLOOD TESTS EVERY SIX WEEKS!<br />
<br />
The f***, Dr. K?!? Well played, friend. Well played.<br />
<br />
I guess he means business.<br />
<br />
So, I went to the pharmacy, and I got the damn iron pills, and the pharmacist reiterated that I will probably not crap for like 12 weeks while on this medication, then he told me that my body has somehow managed to learn how to function without adequate iron, and I thought, "well no shit, Pharmacist Guy. My body has learned how to function on nothing but diet Coke, Kraft Dinner and McDonalds, so surely this lack of iron thing is a friggin cake walk."<br />
<br />
Then, still feeling sorry for myself because I am SO OVER this and I don't want to go to the pharmacy or some dumb blood lab or the doctor's office ever again as long as I live, I went home and texted C about my sad little problem. A few hours later, her husband showed up at my house with an armload of kale, which is something I have never seen ever in my entire life, and told me to just "do the same thing you do to spinach." Which then made us both laugh, because really, he knows me well enough to know that I wouldn't know what to do with spinach if you held a gun to my head.<br />
<br />
But, as it happens, there was a recipe in the weekly paper for "kale chips", so I followed that, toasted up some kale (with a <i>shitload</i> of salt, but that's beside the point right now), and ate it for dinner. And I did OK. I got to almost the end of the pile on my plate, when I started to gag and had to drown the rest in ranch dressing. But, I did clear the plate, and I was feeling rather proud of myself, so I downed one of my new iron pills, brushed the chunks of kale out of my teeth (that shit sticks like glue), grabbed a diet Coke, and headed downtown to the radio station to get some work done.<br />
<br />
Well. I got halfway down the highway, and thanks to that frickin' little iron pill, the urge to vomit hit me so hard I honestly wasn't sure what to do and was contemplating if it would be possible to drive and puke at the same time because I really, truly did not think I was going to have time to pull over. But I took a deep breath, puffed my cheeks out like a blowfish, got ahold of myself, pulled to the side of the road, and dry-heaved for five minutes into an empty grocery bag.<br />
<br />
THAT SUCKED.<br />
<br />
And THEN, I got to work (and this next part could be a little too much information for you, so maybe stop reading now if you don't want to know, though really, this whole post could be filed under TMI, so whatever), and I started to burp like CRAZY! What the hell, kale!?!? Do ALL vegetables do this to people!? Seriously! This is why vegetables suck, <i>and nobody should eat them ever!!!</i><br />
<br />
I will end this post with nothing but a big, long, sad, exasperated, poor-me, <b><i>"SIGH"!!!!</i></b><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-13232784287620541032012-08-22T20:43:00.003-07:002012-08-23T09:04:44.908-07:00I'll admit - this post doesn't paint me in the best light.Sometimes (OK, fine, lots of times, WHATEVER), I say really stupid things. I documented a few recent conversations, for your reading pleasure. I wish these were made-up. Unfortunately, they are not. Please enjoy. And know that I really am a somewhat intelligent person. OK. With that, here we go...<br />
<br />
After seeing a movie with a friend where Jessica Alba works with penguins, I came home to Shawn and said, "Did you know that penguins are SMALL????"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Yeah, what are you talking about?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Penguins are LITTLE!!! Like, sort of knee-high!!!"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "...Yes, Jamie. They're birds."<br />
<br />
Then, I kind of think he was afraid to, but he asked me how big I <i>thought</i> penguins were. And the answer (which I am NOT proud of, by the way), is that I always thought penguins were human-sized. IT'S NOT MY FAULT. I have only ever seen penguins on like, the Discovery Channel or dumb kids' movies, and there are NEVER any humans around to compare them to, so I truly was surprised when Jessica Alba was surrounded by all these little midget penguins in this movie. I honestly thought they were some kind of breed of dwarf penguins or something. This was a couple years ago and to this day I have never been allowed to forget the fact that I thought penguins were the size of a grown-up person. Shawn also informed me during that conversation that penguins can't actually tap dance, like they do in "Happy Feet." I think he thought he was being funny. I just thought he was being mean.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
A couple months ago, we were all driving towards Hope, BC, which is very lush and green all the time.<br />
<br />
AJ: "Where did all these trees come from?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "What do you mean?"<br />
<br />
AJ: "Well, you know, there are so many. How did they get there?"<br />
<br />
<i>This</i> is the part where I should have just shoved more Pringles and Sour Patch Kids into my mouth, instead of opening it to speak. But no. I brilliantly say:<br />
<br />
"Hey, that's a good question actually. How DID all those trees get there? I mean, that's an awful lot of trees! Like, they are EVERYWHERE, people are super hard at work, or that is some kind of fancy planting machine!"<br />
<br />
Shawn doesn't say anything at first, he just takes his eyes off the road long enough to stare at me like he can't quite believe what just came out of my mouth. Then:<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Oh, honey. You DO know how trees work, don't you???"<br />
<br />
Me: "Uh. Yes??????"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "OK, how?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Um, well. They get planted."<br />
<br />
Shawn: "By who?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Um. Tree planters??? Or machines??" *<br />
<br />
Shawn is now regretting the decision he made, all those years ago, to knock up someone - TWICE - who doesn't even understand how trees work.<br />
<br />
And<i> then</i>, my sweet little (jerk) of a son says:<br />
<br />
"MOM! The seeds fall OFF the trees and RE-PLANT!! Sometimes the seeds stick to ANIMALS and then when the animal moves, they fall off and get planted! OR, they fall off of PEOPLE and get planted!!!"<br />
<br />
So then I was like, YOU LITTLE TURD! IF YOU ALREADY KNEW THE ANSWER ABOUT THE STUPID FRIGGIN TREES, THEN WHY DID YOU ASK THE QUESTION IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!<br />
<br />
I guess it's just one of many more situations to come, where my kids get to prove that they are significantly smarter than I am.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Hey, did you see the whole thing about Britney Spears** and the Mars Rover?"<br />
<br />
Me: "What? Mars Rover?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Yeah."<br />
<br />
Me: "What the hell are you talking about?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Well, I guess Britney tweeted something about the Mars Rover..."<br />
<br />
Me (interrupting): "What is a Mars Rover?"<br />
<br />
Shawn (blinking uncomprehendingly): "....are you being serious right now?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Well. Yes?"<br />
<br />
Shawn: "OH MY GOD. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU. The Mars Rover!! The robot they put on Mars to take pictures?!?! Ringing any bells? It's KIND OF been a big news story lately?"<br />
<br />
Me: "Well I've never heard of such a thing. How did they even do that? It sounds like a hoax to me."<br />
<br />
Shawn: "Holy shit. NO, Jamie. It's not a hoax. I'll keep it simple for you. They launched it into Space, and it landed on Mars. And now it's there to take pictures."<br />
<br />
Me: "THAT IS SO BOGUS. And who's 'they???' Whatever. As if 'they' can launch a robot into Space and have it land EXACTLY on Mars. No way."<br />
<br />
Shawn: "JAMIE. Yes. It happened. It's done. That's what rocket scientists are for."<br />
<br />
Me: "Yeah, OK, like Angry Birds. Just LAUNCH it into Space, and ooooh looky there, it hits right where you want it to, ELEVENTY BILLION MILES AWAY. Whatevs."<br />
<br />
Shawn (his eyes are rolling, he's wishing he never even started this stupid conversation, and he's once again wondering WHY he chose to reproduce with this dummy): "Yes, dear. It's exactly like Angry Birds. And this whole crazy shenanigan was planned and executed by the human-sized penguins and the men who planted ALL THE GODDAMN TREES BETWEEN KAMLOOPS AND VANCOUVER. It's pretty much like a remote control car, this silly 'Mars Rover' business. In fact, I think they had garden gnomes at Master Control..."<br />
<br />
I think he might be making that last part up.<br />
<br />
*If I may, I'd like to just defend myself by saying that once I
thought about it for a minute, it <i>did</i> occur to me that trees can
self-seed. I JUST DON'T DO WELL UNDER PRESSURE, OK!?!!?<br />
<br />
**I am a die-hard-forever Britney Spears fan. Oh, yes I am. I can admit it proudly and without shame. I love her. I even made Shawn go to her concert with me. She can shave her head and walk around with her lady-junk exposed and sleep with weirdos all she wants, I will still love her forever and I KNOW if we ever met in real life we would totally be besties.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5430770079036984429.post-27635667047556846312012-08-20T19:21:00.002-07:002012-08-20T19:28:48.026-07:00Kootenay Lovin'.We just returned from a trip to the Kootenays. It was super awesome. We stayed with friends at a mobile home resort-park-type-thing on Kootenay Lake, and even thought the lake was FRICKIN' cold, it was still so fun. The kids didn't give a crap that the water was -20 (OK, give or take a few degrees, whatever), they just hopped right in and played on the beach for hours. We grown-ups watched, and drank beer, and ate all sorts of awesome junky food, and played cards, and read, and just kicked back. It was SUCH a good time.<br />
<br />
Now, as you may know, the West Kootenay is mine and Shawn's old stompin' grounds. I lived in Castlegar for 7 years, Shawn for 5. We moved to Kamloops six years ago this November, but we haven't been back to the area in a really long time. And let me tell you, it was a TRIP being back there. I was actually shocked at how many memories instantly came flooding back. The winding two-lane highway between Kelowna and Rock Creek that I drove more times than I can count. The delicious deli sandwiches at the Rock Creek General Store that are so good, Shawn and I used to starve ourselves for the entire day when we knew we were heading to Kamloops, just so we could eat a bunch of them. Heading through Greenwood, the "smallest city in BC", and stopping at the Copper Eagle bakery, which has the most ridiculously delicious baked goods. Then came Grand Forks, and past the cemetery where my Baba is buried; and then beautiful, warm Christina Lake. And the minute we started the descent from the summit of the good ol' Blueberry Paulson, with all the Albertans and the truckers and the old people that drive 50 km/hr on that highway then somehow manage to speed up to 130 when they hit a passing lane so you can't even get around them, I was a hit by a wave of nostalgia that, frankly, completely threw me. I was not expecting to feel such warmth towards this little town that I couldn't wait to leave six years ago.<br />
<br />
When we made the decision to leave the Kootenays, a lot of factors contributed to our choice. Most importantly, with two small kids, we needed to be closer to family. Also, neither of us were interested in raising our kids in a small town - we wanted them to be able to have lots of choices when it came to schools, and activities, and friends. Shawn grew up in Calgary, and I lived in Vancouver for a couple of years, and we knew for certain that we did not want to be in a large city. Small-ish without being teeny-tiny, lots of choices, beautiful climate, and family - Kamloops fit the bill perfectly, and I can honestly say that every single day for the last 6 years I have been thankful we made the decision to come here.<br />
<br />
So you know what was totally weird??<br />
<br />
I found myself checking out real estate in Castlegar, and wanting to go back!!!<br />
<br />
Shawn told me I'd have to go with my new husband, but whatever. I can deal with him later. He's pretty easy to trick.<br />
<br />
Even Mackenzie was all like, "hey, let's move here for a year! Let's just try it!" And I thought it was funny that out of all the cities and towns we've taken our kids to, this one really seemed to resonate with her. I don't know if it's because <i>she</i> genuinely liked it, or because she knew that <i>I</i> was feeling so drawn to it, but either way, she has definitely never said anything before about living anywhere else.<br />
<br />
I've thought a lot about why I felt the way I did when we rolled in to town, and really, it boils down to this: I "grew up" in Castlegar. Yeah, I was raised in Kamloops, and yeah, I went to school in Vancouver, but Castlegar? THAT is the place where shit got real.<br />
<br />
I started my very first real job, in my chosen field of broadcasting.<br />
<br />
I started paying my own way through life - no more sponging off mom and dad (I still remember the first time I went to the local Safeway and bought groceries with my OWN money.)<br />
<br />
I started renting a place, all by myself. I lived alone, and I paid the bills myself. And yeah - I had to learn to budget!<br />
<br />
I met Shawn. That went well, so...<br />
<br />
We got married.<br />
<br />
We bought our first house (a tiny little bungalow on 7th Avenue that we paid a whopping $100,000 for, and just about passed out signing the mortgage papers because it was <i>SOOOOOO MUCH MONEY!!!!</i>) <br />
<br />
We (actually, <i><b>I</b></i>) had our kids.<br />
<br />
We made grown-up decisions, all by ourselves.<br />
<br />
And all of that, and so much more, is enough to make me see the huge amount of importance that that little area of the world holds for me. It is very weird to contemplate how different my life would be now, had I not spent seven years of my life in Castlegar. I know we'll never leave where we are now; when it comes down to it, we are truly happy here. But at the same time, rolling through a city that you didn't even realize holds so much meaning in your life, after 5 years away, is a very cool experience.<br />
<br />
So, much love to you, West Kootenay area of BC. It certainly won't be another 5 years before our next visit.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256492485606824853noreply@blogger.com0