Random Blogness by SlightlyInsaneStacey

Stacey Crocker

2011-10-08T13:24:00.004-04:00

I like to bake. I hate to cook but I love to bake. My first real job was a baking job. From time to time I get into a mega baking mood and go a little crazy baking a whole mess of stuff all at once.

This weekend is the Canadian Thanksgiving and my Mother in Law asked me to bring a cheesecake for dessert for her Thanksgiving dinner. No problem at all. The only thing I like better than cheesecake is MY cheesecake. I don't like to brag...well yes, actually I do...my cheesecake it THE s-@*#! I figured while I was making a cheesecake for that dinner I might as well make one for when I go to my parents for dinner. I usually make a traditional fruit topped cheesecake to go to either house. Then I found an easy chocolate cheesecake recipe on Pinterest.com (my latest addiction). I'm not a big chocolate fan but lots of people are and I wanted to try out the recipe so I added that to my baking list. Then, while eating a pumpkin spice muffin from Tim Hortons I wondered if I could find a pumpkin cheesecake recipe that I had all the ingredients for. I found a recipe and then during my search I came across a recipe for pumpkin cookies and added both to my baking list. My parents really like peanut butter cookies so I added a small batch of them to the list as well.

I spent most of the night last night making cheesecakes and then got up this morning and baked cookies. My Nana would be so proud. Just call me Stacey Crocker! I'm not sure who is going to eat all this crap but they definitely have options. The pumpkin cookie recipe yielded over 100 cookies so I hope somebody besides me like them or I'm going to be another 25 pounds heavier. The pumpkin cheese cake filling it so scrumptious I could have eaten it 2 minutes after is was finished.

Now that all the baking is done I am trying to resist the urge to google more recipes as I really need to get moving with my day. I'm sure the rest of my day is going to be spent praying the boys don't find out there are 4 cheesecakes in the downstairs fridge and cookies locked in the pantry so I will actually have goodies to take to dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and cheers to eating enough turkey to have to move to the next notch in your belt!

A Chance to Make a New Friend!

2011-10-05T13:08:00.009-04:00

It is amazing what a difference 1 number can make. For me this morning, it was the difference between qualifying to win $25,000 and making a new friend.

Every morning I wake up to the sound of our local radio station and this morning was no exception. This morning they were talking about a contest they were holding where you had to text your first and last name to a specific number in order to qualify for a chance to win $25,000 or a new car.

Sounded easy enough so I thought, what the heck, I'll enter. Apparently I mixed up a number when I sent my text.... Now I have Tom from Waterloo, who claims to be a Sales Engineer texting me. "Sales Engineer" huh? Fancy name for cashier at Walmart? Drug dealer? When asked what I do to make a living a million possibilities came to mind. Queen of Canada. Surgeon General of Stinkburg. After all Tom didn't know who that text came from. I could be just about anyone even a big hairy dude driving a truck. Stacey is a unisex name right? I was going to go with Domestic Goddess but settled with just telling him I raise 3 kids. I don't really MAKE a living as much as spend a living doing that but it is how I pass the time (I should probably add that I of course love every minute of it).

He asked who I was trying to reach. I told him about the radio station contest and how I had mixed up a number. He asked if I at least won? Ummmmmm, how could I win if I text..texted (what is the past tense of text?) him instead of the radio station? I would have expected a "Sales Engineer" to be a little quicker than that.

Then he told me "well you kinda did". I assume he meant because I had the great fortune to end up exchanging texts with the likes of him. I responded that I think Papa Bear would have probably rather I won a chance to win $25,000 than make a new friend.

Up until this point I thought he was hitting on me. That was until he asked "so what is your hubby thinking about having a date with another man? haha". I've known Papa Bear for a pretty long time and I don't think I ever recall him mentioning that he has ever considered dating a man. I'll be sure to ask him though and see if he wants my new friend, Tom the "Sales Engineer"'s number.

Wordless Wednesday...3 Little Monkeys Jumping

2011-09-28T16:46:00.003-04:00

Time Again For a Little Catch Up

2011-09-19T08:31:00.004-04:00

I have become a terrible blogger. My posts have become far and few between. I get emails in my inbox from time to time from random readers telling me to get my butt in gear and post more often. You would think from the lack of activity on the blog that my life must be so boring lately that I haven't had anything to blog about. That is not the case, although what I wouldn't give for some boredom from time to time. So here is a recap of what we've been up to around here:

My super fun home party business job was really slow after Christmas (and into the spring) so I decided to apply for a job with Statistics Canada and from late April until early August I was a government employee. While it wasn't the most glamourous job it was definitely interesting. I'm bound by an oath that prevents me from talking about much of the experience but I will just say this: Think about what you are wearing (or not wearing) when you answer your front door before you open that door.

It was somewhere in the late spring that I bought a new weight scale that hates me and I found that I had gained about 25lbs in the last year and was apparently oblivious. This new revelation brought a pop detox, a iced capp cut back and more attention to my portion sizes and listening to my brain when it says "WHOA, you've had enough. I know you like the taste of it but step away fat ass". I'm not sure that cutting back on my iced capp consumption right before school let out for summer was the best idea.

June brought the end of school and the beginning of the end for what was left of my sanity. For some insane reason I thought it would be a good idea to enrol the boys in daily swimming lessons in a different town at 10 o'clock in the morning for 2 weeks. The thought behind that was it would force us to get up, get dressed and get moving everyday. I forgot that I am not a morning person -not even a little bit.

Little Bear went to sleep away camp for the first time ever the second week in July. I was so nervous about this I couldn't drop him off and I couldn't sleep for the first couple days. It didn't help that X told me that Little Bear cried when he left him there. However, when I went to pick him up at the end of the week he was crying again but this time because he didn't want to leave. While Little Bear was away Papa Bear decided this would be a good time to (finally) tear out the old panelled walls and drywall in Fuzzy's room and Fuzzy could sleep in Little Bear's room. Half way through this project which ended up much bigger with the closet falling down and having to be rebuilt and the floor also being replaced, the wheat in the fields was ready to be harvested. I would just like to point out that I KNEW this was going to happen and the whole reason I choose the second week in July for Little Bear to go to camp was because that is the week week we are typically in wheat harvest. The result was the 2 boys bunking up for a little over a week to Little Bear's disdain. In the end Fuzzy's room turned out fantastic and well worth the wait.

At the end of July and into the beginning of August the Bear Family took our summer vacation again in Niagara Falls. We visited the Niagara Zoo and stayed at a hotel with it's own water park. The boys had a blast and while they will likely outgrow that particular hotel water park I think that I wouldn't mind staying at a similar place with a larger scale park. The boys were having so much fun that I almost didn't care that I had to squeeze my squishy (25lbs heavier) body into a bathing suit in front of strangers.

In August the boys did round 2 of daily swimming lessons since I obviously hadn't learned my lesson the first round and am a sucker for punishment. The fact that 2 out of the 3 boys passed their swimming levels validates driving with 1 eye still shut every morning. There likely would have been a third round of swimming lessons if I had been able to foresee that X was going to renege on his promise to the boys that they could come to his house for a full week. How I didn't see that coming I don't know.

Towards the end of August the boys really started to get sick of each other and resorted to non stop fighting that started as soon as 2 of them had their eyes open until the last 2 fell asleep at the end of the day. The result was an my increased dose of Extra Strength Advil and really focusing on the number of days left until school went back in.

The end of August also brought one of the biggest storms we have had since I have lived on the farm. I still swear a tornado touched down in our back yard. Papa Bear says it was a down burst of wind or some crap but that doesn't seem a big enough deal to completely take out our pear tree, throw our trampoline (which was anchored down with cement blocks) across our back field to rest in a mangled heap in the trees on the river bank, push a grain wagon hitch first across the field, take out the other half of the large tree that got struck by lightning a few years ago, break of a huge branch of another tree that would get tangled in and snap the hydro line that runs from the house to the drive shed, break off another branch that would hit and dent Papa Bear's truck, leave the boys' climber in need of repair and split a huge crack in probably they biggest and most mature of our trees so that it had to be cut down because of the danger it posed to splitting completely and falling. It was probably the scariest weather I have encountered.

At the beginning of September Little Bear went off to start Grade 3 and Fuzzy to S/K. As much as I was looking forward to them going back I must admit that once they were gone I missed them. Not enough to wish another 2 months of them being home but I do miss them when they are at school. September also brings the busiest season for work which I am so looking forward to. I love my job and the busier I am the longer I can put off having to look for a P/T job.

That about brings us up to date. Sorry this post is so extremely long but there was a lot of stuff to catch up on. I'm hoping to get my groove back and not leave my readers with such large gaps between posts. I'm also hoping to bring back the occasional "Wordless Wednesday". I miss blogging regularly and I miss reading comments from my readers.

Auto Corrected

2011-08-03T20:20:00.008-04:00

Auto correct is usually a great tool on your cell phone to make typing quicker and easier...and also so you don't look like an idiot when you don't know how to spell. Occasionally though it works in the reverse and instead makes you look like a complete idiot when it changes to something completely different than what you were originally trying to communicate. There is an entire website dedicated to this misfortune, damnyouautocorrect.com . This particular site has caused me to laugh until I cried at the poor saps that have fallen victim to the auto correct curse.

Today I found myself victim to the curse. I'm just glad it was Chesty McBreasty on the receiving end and not someone else. There are so many more fantastic examples on the site but here is my flub:

...and yes, she is absolutely programmed into my contacts as "Chesty McBreasty". :)

Jump For Joy

2011-06-30T15:18:00.004-04:00

I think every kid has a list in their head of the coolest toys they wish they could have. For me that list consisted of a Power Wheels, a tree house, a cool bike, Moon Shoes and a trampoline. My parents did eventually grant my wish for a cool bike which was so cool in all it's purply shininess that I rode it right into adulthood and never passed it down to either of my brothers like all of my previous bikes.

Now that I am a Mama I can live vicariously through my kids and so my boys have Power Wheels which have provided countless hours of enjoyment, a climber with a sort of tree house, very cool John Deere bikes and just recently, a trampoline. - Moon Shoes just don't seem as great now as they did then and I'm not completely sure they even make them anymore.

I have wanted a trampoline since I was about 5 and a traveling group called the Tramp Champs visited my public school and put on a performance of high flying acrobatics completed on a series of giant trampolines assembled in our gymnasium. Since then I have rarely passed up a chance to jump on a trampoline when the opportunity has presented itself. Now 20 years later (give or take a few years ;)) my boys are getting to the age where a trampoline is appropriate for me...I mean them. The other day I purchased a 12' trampoline with net enclosure (safety first!).

It wasn't they easiest thing to assemble but I persisted and made Papa Bear help me because I was just to excited and wanted to have it together by the time the boys got home from their visit with X. I couldn't wait to get on it and hurl myself into the air over and over again. My first bounce on the completed trampoline was just as I hoped it would be. That was until I realized that jumping on a trampoline after a certain (unmentionable) age and having 3 babies posses some problem. That problem being that your bladder doesn't really hold tight like it did before...and I may have peed a little.

Little Bear was in awe. "AAAWWEEESSOOMMEEE" was the first think out of his mouth. Wee One also loved the trampoline from his first bounce. Fuzzy was terrified. 2 out of 3 isn't bad. After a few times of watching his brothers having a blast jumping, Fuzzy too warmed up to the idea and it wasn't long before I got a call while working from him to tell me he jumped all by himself and loved it. He has been on the trampoline several times a day since.

It may have taken several years and 3 kids to use as an excuse to buy the items from my wish list but my kids have got every bit as much enjoyment out of them as I imaged I would have. Now when my kids ask me for some sort of lavish toy I can say with confidence, "when you grow up and get a job you can buy a _________ yourself" just like my parents told me.

Tr@$hless Tue$d@y

2011-06-06T22:00:00.002-04:00

Trashless Tuesday is something devised by the environmental group at my sons' school. The idea is for all students to bring a completely trashless lunch every Tuesday. I'm all for doing what I can to help the planet but Trashless Tuesday makes for Manic Mental Meltdown Monday Night.

I make school lunches the night before to save myself the time and stress of packing them in the midst of our fairly smooth morning routine. I can not imagine packing a Trashless Tuesday lunch Tuesday morning while trying to get Little Bear up and ready for school and keeping him from hearing some of the choice words that come out of my mouth while trying to get the trashless lunch to fit in the lunch bag.

The typical children's lunch bag is not designed to hold dozens of tupperware containers. It is meant to hold prepackaged apple sauces, granola bars and yogurt containers. The producers of these products have likely done research on how their product should fit in a lunch bag. I don't think Tupperware does the same amount of research.

I do consider the environment when packing my kids' lunches. We use tupperware reusable drink containers in place of milk cartons or juice boxes, sandwich containers in place of sandwich baggies and containers for many fresh fruits, veggies and dips. There is a point however where no more containers will fit in the lunch bag and baggies are necessary in order to get everything in there. There are also those occasions where there just aren't enough clean small containers to complete the lunch packing process.

If the Trashless Tuesday mission is not completed then a very disappointed child has a big "X" placed beside his name on the Trashless Tuesday tracking sheet and I am bound to hear about how Little Johnny doesn't have an Xs on the sheet because his mom is a super duper tupperware packer...or Johnny starves. To avoid these situations I try my darnest to accomplish the task. Sometimes it is necessary to go to great lengths to evade that dread X even if that means emptying a yogurt cup into a container or peeling open a cheese stick just to stick it in its own bulky container which totally voids the purpose of Trashless Tuesday.

This year I only have 1 lunch to make on Tuesdays. Next year I will have 2. If the environmental group decides Trashless Tuesday will be a good way to torture parents...I mean help the planet I think I will have to invest in tackle boxes in place of lunch pails so I don't have to stress about how I'm going to fit all that Tupperware. I guess the silver lining is there are only 4 more Trashless Tuesdays left this school year.

Good Advice

2011-06-05T21:39:00.003-04:00

"Eat bacon whenever you can, always have dessert, don't worry about the small stuff and never, ever exercise." This was Johanna Quints answer when asked, on her 100th birthday, what is the secret of a long life? That is some GOOD advice or at least I like to think it is. I worry a bit too much but I'm doing a pretty good job of following the rest of Ms. Quint's recommendations so I think I'm on my way to living to be 90ish. I also think Ms. Quint would have been a pretty cool lady.

Eat bacon whenever you can - ABSOLUTELY! No problem there...except when trying to fit into last year's summer clothes.

Always have dessert - Don't mind if I do and I don't have a problem skipping a meal to make room for ice cream or cupcakes either.

Don't worry about the small stuff - If I could avoid it I would. There are lots of times when an off switch for my brain would come in handy.

Never, ever exercise - Other than the most inescapable physical activities associated with being a Mom like bike riding with the kids, walking around an animal farm and some Wii game workouts I try very hard to never, ever exercise.

Thank you so much Jay Leno and the Tonight Show staff for including Johanna Quint's good advice in Thursday nights addition of Headlines (also my favourite feature on the show). Her words might just be my new motto. Thank you for instilling confidence that my life is likely to be a lengthy one and I should never give up loving bacon.

RIP Johanna Quint April 1, 1911 - May 9, 2011

30

2011-05-11T00:00:00.000-04:00

Today is supposed to be my birthday. However, due to the ugly truth this day brings I have decided that my birthday is cancelled this year. This year I was to turn 30. 30 is old so in order to preserve my youth I am just not going to have any more birthdays. Really I think turning a year older 29 times is more than enough. There are plenty of things that if done 29 times would be considered excessive - like getting married 29 times. Having 29 babies. Having 29 one night stands. I think I have had enough birthdays.

When I was little I thought that teenagers were cool. People in their 20s were sophisticated. People in their 30s were old and anyone older than that was a granny. I don't want to be old. I don't want to look in the mirror and see a wrinkly old 30 year old staring back. When someone tells me to "act my age" I don't want that to mean I have to learn to golf or apply denture cream. I want to stay young and hip - OK so I never really was hip but now my chance to be has passed. I want to wear my hair in pigtails and look cute.

I don't think I have ever been so depressed about a birthday in my life. The things that people say to try to make you feel better about turning 30 don't help either. "30 is the new 20!" - No, no its not. 20 is 20 and 30 is old. "You're only as old as you feel" - being 30 makes me feel like 80 is just around the corner. Seriously just shut up. 30 sucks. The End.

I Don't Do Mornings

2011-03-04T07:00:00.001-05:00

I don't do mornings. Well I do mornings. What I have to do anyway but I don't do mornings.....gracefully. I get up and get my boys dressed, fed and wait for the bus with them (which I do in my jammies, uggs and a hooded sweatshirt). Then I drag my butt back into the house to get Wee One ready for the day. I am in a fog until probably 10ish and do very little besides check emails and facebook and maybe tidy up the kitchen a bit. All the while looking like I just rolled out of bed after a late night bender. mornings that I take Fuzzy and Wee One to playgroup the morning routine is accelerated a bit with the goal of getting to group (that starts at 9:30) by 10....ish. It wasn't much better when I worked mornings at the Donut Shack but I got up really early for work so that the whole morning process was on a little earlier timetable.

I never invite any sort of company during the morning adjustment period. NEVER. I don't think I am a very vain woman but I do like to look my best when having contact with anyone from the outside world. It is in their own best interest for their eyesight if they don't stop by before 10ish for a surprise visit. Anytime before that and they are setting themselves up for a fright. I don't even go to Walmart without getting dressed, doing something with my hair and putting on the little bit of make up I wear on a
daily basis (trust me it makes a huge difference). There is nothing worse than running into that mean girl from highschool looking less than fantastic.

Lots of people will say why bother I'm not supposed to be trying to impress anyone anyway. Seriously? I mean no, I'm not looking for a date but I am most definitely out to impress. Your local grocery store is filled with potential employers, customers, fellow parents from your childrens' school, former flames, former school mates that you haven't seen since you were an awkward teenager. Also, while I'm not on the hunt for a man because I have a great one at home, it is nice to be noticed and for some guy to think "wow, that Papa Bear is a lucky man". I'm not dead after all. It makes me feel better to look nice. With that god awful birthday coming it seems all that more important to put the effort forward.

Sorry, I got a little off track. I was talking about mornings and my lack of participation in them. This morning I had one of those pre-10ish surprise visits which prompted this rant...I mean blog entry. A guy that used to be my neighbour when X and I lived in town bought from my boys' school fundraiser. I offered to drop off his order but being an avid fisherman he has been busy catching and cleaning with his buddies and so wouldn't be around. He wanted to come pick it up this morning. Last night I told him I would message him when it was a good time to come out, likely around 10ish (when morningness had worn off). That would give me time to brush my hair and teeth, get dressed and look presentable to anyone outside my family. He showed up on his own an hour early.....

If I had seen him pull in I probably wouldn't have even answered the door. My hair was not brushed (I had a nice little rooster tail thing going on in the back even) or my teeth, I was dressed - in my jammies which consist of silly penguin polar fleece pj pants and a very thin but very comfortable t-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination....including the fact I was not wearing a bra. Nipply just freaking nipply - I mean nice. Poor guy probably had to go home to scrub his eyeballs with steel wool to remove the image he was just presented with. Instead of thinking "wow, that Papa Bear is a lucky man" I'm sure he was thinking something more along the lines of "Good lord man, better you than me!". I bet he will call before he shows up like that on someones doorstep like that again. If nothing else he learned a hard lesson - I DON'T DO MORNINGS.

Winter Weight

2011-03-03T00:15:00.004-05:00

It is my belief that we all need a little extra padding in the winter. Okay, maybe not my belief but my reality since I seem to acquire a little extra padding (specifically in the tummy and rear end regions) during the colder months. This year seems to be worse. I don't know if it is because that really ugly birthday (that I'm not having) is creeping up on me or because my job has slowed down considerably since Christmas. I'm going to pray its the latter giving hope to the chance it will disappear with little more than a pick up in schedule. I'm am very sure it has nothing to do with my addiction to Iced Capp made with (extra) cream, my love for chips or my hatred for exercise or the dreaded D word -diet.

This winter 10 pounds seems to have settled on my body. 10 pounds that makes the difference between getting the pants done up and....not. 10 pounds means the difference between curvy and lumpy. 10 pounds is enough for me to look in the mirror and say "okay Stacey, it is time to do something about this before 10 turns to 20 and 20 turns to 40 and I end up on the next season of The Biggest Loser and someone else sits on their couch eating ice cream and chip while watching me sweat off hundreds of pounds on national TV".

Since the only time I have to do any sort of actual work out is when my boys are in bed I do not plan on going for a run in the country and meeting all our furry woodland creatures that lurk out here. With work being slow I can't afford a gym membership and really don't have the desire for others to see me attempt something I have never done before. I don't own a treadmill or any exercise equipment but I do own a Wii and Wii Fit. I felt this was a good place to start so the other night after I finished my jar of gourmet jelly beans and soda I decided to pull the ol Wii Fit out from under the layer of dust. I don't pretend the Wii is as good as those other methods but that's what I've got.

The first thing the game asks you to do is a body test where it weighs you and checks your balance and asks how much your clothes weigh (mine are always extremely heavy even if I am only wearing shorts and a tshirt) to determine your "Wii Fit age". After it completed it's series of "tests" the first thing the piece of s@#* told me was that I was overweight. That alone was enough for me to want to through the controller through the front of Papa Bear's new TV and find another jar of jelly beans. I don't think I am suffering from any serious bouts of denial but when I see my reflection, even with the extra 10 pounds, I do not see an "overweight" person. Screw you Wii Fit! The next thing it told me was that my "Wii Fit age" is 43..... Awesome.....

Next I flipped through the game selections. The Wii already told me I had decent balance so no need to waste my time on balance building activities. Strength exercises seemed pointless too. Who needs to be strong as long as they can be skinny? As for Yoga-let's leave that till I run out of steam. I decided to go with the aerobic activities.

I round of virtual hula hooping was enough for me. Hip circles and thrusts are better used for other purposes ;). The basic step aerobic activity I found to be quite enjoyable though. Maybe exercising can be a bit fun. After a couple of times through the basic step game I collected enough time to open the advanced version which is way more fun, way more high speed and way more sweat inducing. I pushed myself through 45 minutes of step aerobics. I should have stopped after about 10-15 minutes but no pain, no gain right? Boy did I gain some pain the next day....so much that I had to take the night off but limited myself to half a jar of jelly beans.

On day 3 of my "exercise plan" I went back at it after catching crap from the Wii for skipping a day. I even had to explain my absence - to a cartoon version of the step.. I pushed myself through another 45 minute "work out" before showering up and heading to bed.

The next day I came down with a nasty, nasty stomach bug that kept my head in the toilet for almost 6 hours straight. That combined with the pain I gained from feeling the burn was a rough, rough combination. My legs, butt and arms hurt from the work outs and my guts and back hurt from the toilet marathon. My head pounded and my eyes hurt. I was a mess which I blame half on the exercise. It took a couple of days to bounce back from that mess and now that I'm feeling great I afraid to get back on the Wii Fit to have the rathe of the Wii Fit board come down on me for taking too many days off. I am on the other hand curious to see how many pounds I puked up. I would just jump on a bathroom scale like many people keep in their bathrooms but mine is in the drive shed being used to weigh out corn.

Tonight was drinks with Chesty McBreasty. Tomorrow can be the return of the very loose exercise program. I did download (shhh) some Zumba videos so maybe I'll give that a whirl. I hear people saying it is fun and not just those people that get their kicks running marathons and "tone" in their spare time. Might be something to try after I make sure the blinds are shut tight so I don't scare my in laws across the road. Or maybe I'll cut down on my Iced Capps with (extra) cream - nah, who am I kidding? That is my fuel.

Handheld Hell

2011-02-10T14:38:00.003-05:00

I am usually one to embrace modern technology. I like all the fancy gadgets available that are supposed to simplify our lives and the ones that are just kinda cool. There are several new fangled gizmo's that I use through out my day but there is one that I believe to be the workings of the devil himself. Papa Bears high tech universal remote and I DO NOT get along.

It is a lovely looking little contraption. It is the perfect size and shape to comfortably hold in your hand. It has a screen that allows you to load a picture or image as a background to personalize your remote. On that same screen is your list of activities the remote has been programmed to control. It first glance it seems completely harmless.

According to the directions and Papa Bears instructions, you are supposed to be able to touch just one single button to turn on everything you need to watch or listen to a specified component with the TV. Just one single button. Just one. This NEVER happens... OK, I guess I shouldn't say never. Let's say 99% of the time this doesn't happen. There is that 1% surprise that randomly pops up. Those are the times I should be buying lottery tickets because it just seems to be dumb luck when the Devil's Wand actually performs as it should.

Just once I would like the repetitive request of "Mama, Handy Manny. Handy Manny, Mama. Mama, Handy Manny" to be granted with just 1 button. This Never happens... I have tried...several times... After shaking the sh..-heck out of the stupid thing just to get it to power up (the battery doesn't fit properly in its slot and the piece of cardboard helping to hold it in place sometimes shifts) I push the "Watch Shaw Direct" and the TV comes on proceeded by several beeps and lights but alas, no Handy Manny. Now the simple thing to do would be push power and start again or just turn on the things that didn't turn on manually but no. Papa Bear says that when I do that it screws it up. Take a look man! It already IS screwed up! Its just one little screwy screwball of screwed up crap!

To avoid "screwing it up" I have to push the "Help" button. Really? Help turning on the TV? And this is supposed to be more convenient than turning everything on manually? I wouldn't require "help" with that. Pushing the "Help" button now sends me to what seems like a never ending list of questions I must answer. I'm not so good with quizzes at 7:30 in the freaking morning but that is what I must do. "Is the TV on?"
I press "yes".
"Did this fix the problem?"
"No".
"Is the Shaw Direct on?"
"Yes".
"Did this fix the problem?"
"No". "Is the DVD/CD on?"
"Yes".
"Did this fix the problem?"
"No"
"Is the Audio/Video on?"
"Yes".
"Did this fix the problem?"
"No".
" Is the TV tuned to Component 2?"
....and then it goes through asking if each of those items are tuned to their required settings. Ughhhhhhhhhh. I just want Handy freaking Manny - preferably before it is over!

Papa Bear thinks it is just me that can't work the POS (piece of stuff) but the truth is HE is the only one that CAN work it. My friend, Sketch babysat once and had to go through the list of "help". Sketch is quite electronically literate and had trouble with it. My Dad, who also enjoys gadgets made it work but not without a few kinks. It is definitely not just me. Little Bear tries and seems to have more luck than me but not even half the time he attempts.

I am seriously starting to think Papa Bear has placed that Handheld Hell in my living room to drive me further insane than I am already. I don't know how much more I can take before I drop kick the Dastardly Demon remote through the front of Papa Bear's beloved TV.

For The Love of Bacon

2011-02-09T18:00:00.002-05:00

Bacon, bacon, bacon. I love it! I have always loved it and I will likely love it until I'm dead - hopefully not from a bacon induced heart attack.

Apparently my good pal, Chesty McBreasty thinks my love for bacon is unhealthy which is evident by her eye rolls when she asks what I had for lunch and she already knows the answer. According to her it is not normal to have bacon for lunch -just bacon....like the whole pound. I know its not a great health choice but I love it. If I balance a lunch of bacon with a dinner of veggie filled salad I should be just fine...or at least that's what I tell myself. I would never allow my children to make a meal out of bacon but for me I think it is just fine.

When at a restaurant, if the waitress rhymes off the specials and even one of them includes some form of bacon I'm sold. I like bacon in my salad, in my soup, in my sandwiches, in my wraps, on the side, just about anyway besides beverages and ice cream. I love it!

I'm not prejudice either. I like all kinds of bacon. I'm not a huge fan of things like Maple Bacon and weird stuff like that which I will eat if not given another bacon choice but I like my regular strip bacon and pemeal bacon or "Canadian bacon" the best. While I'm not picky about what kind of bacon I eat I am very picky about how I like it cooked. I don't want any of that floppy limp crap (but I WILL eat it). I want the s*it cooked out it. I want it just a hint before burnt. I want so that if you were to drop it, it would shatter. X's sister used to run a restaurant and would drop my bacon in the deep frier...OMG...the BEST bacon you will ever have!

For Christmas I received a jar of "bacon salt" so I might turn less traditional items into bacony goodness like popcorn or tuna sandwiches or tacos or pasta or just a piece of toast. I'm not above sprinkling bacon salt over my fruits and veggies either. I have to say bacon flavoured cuccumbers or cauliflower sounds pretty damn good to me. The possibilities are endless.

Sorry this is such a short posting but I need to stop writing about bacon. I am suddenly having a hankering for some deep fried, bacon salted, greasy, bacon with a side of bacon.

Stupid Smart Meters

2011-02-04T09:00:00.002-05:00

So the Ontario government has come up with a plan to "create a culture of energy conservation in the province" by attaching this wretched little metal box know as a "Smart Meter" to the side of our houses which tracks our energy usage. Basically this means if you don't want to pay through the nose for your hydro you have to put off using energy sucking appliances until after 9pm on weekdays or on weekends. While I appreciate their mission I do not appreciate their "off-peak" times.

Currently I do laundry almost all day most days and if I miss a few days then non-stop all day everyday. My dishwasher runs at twice a day most days and if I actually cook a big meal which produces more dishes than usual it could run more than that. With all day to do these things I rarely make it to bed before 1am and never before midnight. When I work I leave before the "off-peak" time starts and don't get home until 10 or 11 at night. If I'm not supposed to do my household chores through the day to avoid high rates then I'm going to have to start at 10 or 11 and instead of going to bed at 1am I'm looking at more like 4am by the time I'm done what needs doing during "off-peak" periods.

I know, lots of people run their dishwashers and washing machines while they are in bed sleeping. Knowing people who have had monstrous flooding and other issues while doing so has made me a bit leery. I have rotten luck to start with, there is no need to tempt fate.

I'm sure I will get used to the lack of sleep eventually. Nobody likes change and needs time to adjust orrrrrr maybe I will just stop doing the laundry and dishes and with the money I'll be saving by not using "on-peak" energy I can just buy my family new clothes and paper plates.

From what I have read about these meters they are attached to the sides of all residential homes and small businesses. How is that fair? They should be attached to the sides of office buildings and department stores. They are the one sucking all the in demand "on-peak" energy so they too should be forced to conserve or pay for it like the rest of us. Maybe I can take my laundry and dishes to be done during the day to Sears since they don't have to pay extra for the "on-peak" energy and I could serve as part of their demonstration team. I think it would increase sales for customers to be able to see the appliances in action, no?

If you want my opinion (if you are reading my blog than you must), it is just stupid to make only some of us smart about our energy usage. What's good for the goose is good for the gander or shove your stupid Smart Meters up your....nose!

Time For Some Catch Up

2011-02-02T22:46:00.004-05:00

Last week some dude from some web company sent me an email asking if they could advertise on my blog. I responding that I didn't think my blog was a good fit to advertise his site and that the blog has been dormant for almost 5 months. 5 months? 5 freaking months? That's the longest I have gone without blogging since I started this almost 2 years ago. I think its time for a little catch up. Be warned this may be a little unorganized and a whole bit scattered but here is the update:

We have been spending a lot of time (and money) on the never ending addition renovation to our house that started in June. It is still not complete and I am beginning to wonder if Papa Bear is trying to extend this project so that our first grandchild can have a hand in the construction. Our bedroom is done, the family room is done and the office is done. The bathroom is 1/2 done and the basement has miles to go. We also have half a roof to finish and almost the entire old part of the house to finish residing. I love the parts that are done and I hate the parts that are not.

Since I quit my day job last summer i was finally able to do something I have wanted to do since Little Bear started school and that was to volunteer and spend time in the boys' school. I'm just helping make snacks on Wednesday mornings but its been great. If I had known what a big smile it would put on my kids' faces to see their mama in the hallway at school I think I would have figured out a way to make it happen before now. I also got to go on my first field trip which I almost had to opt out of because both Little Bear's and Fuzzy's classes were going on the same field trip on the same day putting me in a position where I had to choose which boy to go with. The boys and I made a deal that I would go with whichever classes was more in need of volunteers. It turned out Little Bear's class had lots of parents and Fuzzy's had hardly any which put me on the trip with the Junior Kindergartens. It was a fun day.

I worked a ton before Christmas. Actually I worked a ton from May until before Christmas and now, like my blog, business has been pretty dormant. This time of year is a slow time for the home party business but this is getting a bit much. I went from working 15-20 days out of a month to working 1-2 nights a month. That is putting a huge dent in my spending budget and I'm getting a bit of cabin fever. Even my Magic Pumpkin is trying to tell me I need to get out of the house more when it decides not to start after sitting without being started for 3 days. I know most people are thinking 3 days is not a long time to be home bound but for me it is unheard of. From the day I got my licence about 12 years ago, I haven't spent 3 consecutive days at home without being sick with the flu or some other debilitating illness. It doesn't help when my few close friends are really busy and I am not.

My little bears have been sick a bit this winter. Mostly with just colds and coughs and a quick but mighty bout of the flu. Basically I have bought more than my quota of tissue and Tylenol. I'm also getting used to checking the shoulder of my sweater for Wee One's snot wipes before going out and washing my hands until there isn't any skin left on them. Little Bear actually missed 2 days of school due to illness this year and that is unusual for him.

Most recently we have had a decent amount of snow dumped on us. Most people bellyache about winter and snow but I love it. If I didn't already love living in the country, winter in the country would do it. More snow and less shovelling. Its great to stand at the window with the boys and watch Grandpa push the snow out of the driveways with the tractor from the warmth of the house. Until this week I had forgotten we even had a shovel. Since we live in the country my boys take a bus to school - Snow = fun, Too much snow = Snow day...not so much fun (for me anyway).

There hasn't really been too much else going on here. I got glasses - just another reminder that I'm getting older and closer to that terrible birthday that is creeping up on me. I had top sales at my job for 4 months in a row. That was pretty cool. I learned to geocache (to me a form of treasure hunting) with my baby brother. I did a home party fundraiser for someone I wasn't sure I wanted to do one for which turned out really great both from a business and a personal prospective. I didn't make a New Year's resolution that I was going to break anyway.

That's about it. That's the last almost 5 months in a nut shell. I guess you can see now that my lack of material is the reason for my absence. Hopefully something exciting and blog worthy comes up soon so I can get back into the grove. For now consider yourself caught up.

Shown Up

2010-09-12T23:53:00.004-04:00

Papa Bear and I met each other many, many moons ago while both involved in youth bowling. Say what you want, I loved to bowl and still do. A few years ago a friend invited us to join an adult mixed league. We had lots of fun and the next year invited friends to join.

This year a few more spots opened up and I thought my newly retired father might enjoy a night out and he too enjoys bowling. Daddy-O was a 5-pin bowling coach and bowled with my brothers and I in special family bowling tournaments but never as part of a league. He did however bowl in a 10-pin league for a number of years several years ago.

Daddy-O was pretty eager to join and was there nice and early for our first night. I was a little worried about how this might go down. Daddy-O is not a young man - not like he's pushing 100 or anything but he is no spring chicken either. I just hoped he didn't break a hip or trip or throw all his balls in the gutter in front of the rest of the bowlers because that would be embarrassing for him and I both.

My fears deepened a bit when he did indeed throw his first ball right down the gutter. It was at this point I hoped for him to at least break a score of 65. It turns out I should have been more worried about my own rusty game than his. It seems it was quite easy to tell I haven`t stepped foot in a bowling alley since the end of May.

After a few shaky frames I thought Daddy-O was shaping up to bowl a beginner like game but after making "a minor adjustment" as he said he started throwing strikes. He ended up with a respectable 180 for his first game will I, his seasoned daughter bowled a 151. What the f--- heck?!

The second game was worse...for me... I don't know if watching him on his way to throwing a very impressive 228 was what distracted me from my game but I ended up with a shameful 112... Whatever. I was going to show him in the last game...or not.
He summed up his third and final game of the evening with a 216 and I finished with my highest game of the night -a 184...

I guess I was right to be embarrassed but not for my dad but by him while he thoroughly and fully kicked my ass! I really hope this was a case of beginner's luck or I am really going to have to step up my game to save face. I think for tonight I'm going to go with my mother's suggestion that I am such a good daughter that I threw all 3 games so he could look good. Sounds good to me but really great games Daddy-O! Rematch next week. :)

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Its Off To School They Go!

2010-09-11T20:55:00.003-04:00

I quit my part time Donut Shack job on the last day of the school year thinking it was going to be great to spend the summer with my boys. And it was...for the first month or so.. Then boredom set in -for them not me, and they started to fight. A lot. More than usual. It was too hot to play outside much and frankly I think they were just getting tired of looking at each other. The 2 oldest boys especially since they have been forced to share a room since the renovation started in June. (Just an update, they are still sharing a room even though Papa Bear promised me that they would be in their own rooms by the time school started...).

The "staycation" didn't help matters. Staring at the same faces in the same setting for an extended period of time is bound to make you a little bit restless.

Through out the summer I have been stressing about Fuzzy's readiness to start school this year and riding the bus and not being fully toilet trained and so on. By the end of August I wasn't so much concerned about that as I was how many more days until he started.

The closer the back to school date got the crazier the boys got until finally Back to School eve was upon us. Noon the day before isn't too early to pack a lunch and set out clothes is it? I was a tad bit excited so that is exactly what happened here.

Most kids wake up early and are excited to school on the first day -not Little Bear. Not even a little bit. He moaned and groaned before eventually dragging himself from his bed. His brothers were excited to see him off. Probably thinking to themselves "see you later haha, go pick on someone your own size. We are going to get into your stuff ALL day". That was until the bus pulled away and for the rest of the day I heard "where's Little Bear?" "Where did he go?" "When's Little Bear coming home?".
Geez, you fight with him all day long for months and then as soon as he leaves for a few hours you yearn for him? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? If barely ever saw each other they would be the best of friends?

Fuzzy didn't start until a few days later. We did the usual first day of school photo shoot and I loaded me little man onto the great big bus. He was so excited. I thought I was doing well until the bus was a bit down the road and then I bawled like a baby. I don't care what anyone says, it doesn't get easier with experience. Once I got over that it was time for Wee One and I to bask in the quietness.

The crazy summer and the last few weeks of headaches were all worth it when Wee One laid down for a nap and there was no one to shush. I love my kids but a break is nice. Now I can't wait for Monday when the 2 oldest are in school and Wee One starts 1 day a week daycare. Can you say nap?...I mean housework?

Colour My World

2010-08-13T22:58:00.004-04:00

We have almost reached that point in our renovations where we will be ready to paint by next week. Most people would be excited by this. I am not. This means the queen of procrastination must make several decisions in a short period of time.

At present I have enough paint swatches that I could forgo the painting and instead tile in swatches. Kind of like a patchwork quilt sort of thing. Will probably match everything.

When I started thinking about paint...2 days ago. I realized that every room currently painted in my house is blue or green with the only exceptions being the laundry room and the "70's room" (the only room that did not get touched during our last renovation 3 years ago and still has 70's style wood paneling on the bottom of the wall, fake rock paneling on the top and tiled ceiling). Boy am I exciting with my rainbow of colours. Not.

Since I am design challenged and need to get this task done I went to the paint store - sorry, the paint and accent gallery in downtown Stinkburg for some assistance. The dude behind the counter (dressed all in black - how typical) was more than willing to help and proceeded to throw swatch after swatch in my direction until I stood there with about a dozen shades of the same colours in my hands but not knowing what room they were intended for.

Apparently when I told him the other colours in my home he took that to mean I would like to continue in that same colour template and therefore loaded me up with swatches mostly in blues, greens and browns. I am most thrilled about a yellowish swatch that I'm almost sure was thrown at me by mistake.

Next he gave me a 10 minute spiel on which paint was the best and how to apply it. I don't want to apply it. Thanks for reminding me that it wasn't going to just spontaneously appear on my walls but that I am actually going to have to do manual labour and put it there. I hate painting. I hate painting almost as much as I hate waiting. So now I get to paint, then wait (for it to dry), then paint some more and then wait some more. Sounds like a gallon of fun. Not.

Papa Bear is not making this paint colour selection much fun either. He vetoes my choices when I chose Barbie pink for my walk-in closet. I don't get to paint pink anywhere else. I want to buy pink paint damn it!

I'm pretty sure I'm going to have nightmares every night until I decided on colours of being taped up with painters tape and forced to watch HGTV for days on end. Maybe I'll just take the yellow swatch and paint every room in the addition that colour.

Bear Family Staycation

2010-08-09T23:30:00.006-04:00

Papa Bear and I had originally planned to take a real away from home vacation. Unfortunately trying to get a straight answer from Papa Bear on what dates to take as vacation (or really any question) is like trying to grow a palm tree in a snow bank. By the time I got a definite date decided on we were too late to book a cottage at the place we had hoped...or anywhere close for that matter so we decided to stay home and just do day trips with the boys.

Today was day 1 of the "staycation". We didn't really have any plans for today because it was supposed to storm all day...we had a few very brief showers... The definition of vacation is; a period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation. Today was no freaking vacation!

I started my "vacation" out by having a metal 1:16 scale John Deere combine dropped on my face...while I was still asleep...Thank you Wee One and good morning. No problem. The swelling in my lip didn't last more than a couple hours and really wasn't much more painful than when I slipped stepping over a baby gate yesterday and ended up straddling the gate and scraping my arm to crap. I'm pretty sure I broke my lady part but I'll live.

It was then that the fighting started...and so did the migraine. I don't even know where the 3 of them even find that much to fight about. At one point Little Bear yelled from his room "I hate Fuzzy!"
to which Fuzzy replied "No you don't, you love me Little Bear, you do".
Did I mention it was 104 degrees out with humidity today so nobody would play outside for more than a few minutes at a time?

The entire day was used up with cleaning up messes, organizing useless time outs, breaking up fights and preparing meals that nobody was really going to eat much of. Where was Papa Bear while I dealt with my "vacation"? The answer, hiding out in our house addition that is a work in progress coming in only long enough to grab lunch and dinner and then escaping as soon as the fighting resumed from the short break they took to pick at their food.

I don't remember any pleasure or rest or relaxation in my day. There was no pleasure in having an end table drawer fall on your head causing a goose egg (and possible concussion) while you try to repair the damage done to it by 2 little boys. I know. There was no rest in having to vacuum the family room/office/playroom because Fuzzy thought he would open a package of microwave popcorn there. There is no relaxation in listening to Wee One scream because he thinks all the toys are his and Fuzzy feels the need to remind him that they are not.

I have no idea what would possess me to take an entire week off from my job and deny myself 4 hours a night away (no, I am not a hooker). I can assure you this though, there is no way on earth I will be doing it next summer if there aren't any going away plans. We are only 1 day in but so far "staycation" SUCKS!

Patience Is A Virtue

2010-07-23T22:40:00.003-04:00

Patience is a virtue...I do not possess. I have very little patience and what I do have is used up trying not to drop "F bombs" while driving with 3 tiny men as passengers and refereeing when those same 3 tiny men feel the need to torment each other (and me) and fight.

I can't wait in lines. I go practically insane staring at the back side of the person in front of me. I shift from foot to foot. I roll my eyes when stupid people do stupid things to hold things up. At stores I mentally critique the cashiers technique and organize how I could do it better. I try my best not to breathe heavy and huff and puff. I hate lines.

My computer forces me to wait when I can't. I swear the lower my patience the slower the damn thing loads a page. The sight of the little loading icony thing by the mouse pointer makes me a little bit angry. I show my love for its little slow loading game by calling it nasty names.

My patience while driving is practically non-existent. My leg shakes while I hold down the brake pedal and wait for red lights. If the person stopped at a light doesn't start to drive through the second the light changes I have to fight the urge to honk and usually do growl "go!" at them under my breathe". When I drive somewhere that takes more than about 10 minutes I constantly look at the clock in the dash to see how much longer until I'm there and then add a few more kilometers to my speed.

When I worked at the Donut Shack I almost had to hold my own hand down from plucking the change out of people's hands when they stood there flipping the coins around in their hands trying to count it out. I don't know how I ever managed to make it almost 12 years without screaming at an indecisive customer "what the *@#! do you want already?!". Or to the customer that ummmm...ummmmm...ummmms, "ummmm...t-t-t-t-today jr!". Thinking back now, perhaps that is where all of my patience went. It got all used up on all those hundreds of patience stealing creeps I was forced to serve in a day.

Poor Papa Bear. All of the projects he starts I want done. Done like the day after regardless of the project. He is in the middle of a project he says will take 3-4 months. I know Papa Bear speed and I say 5-6 month project-we shall see which is more accurate. This project may just put me in a straight jacket and drive me all the way to the nut house and drop me in a padded room. Building the addition sounded like a great idea until it started. When we talked about building it I was all for it with dreams of a second bathroom (without pee on the seat), a walk in closet (Papa Bear still hasn't told me where he is going to keep his clothes yet), a basement with a playroom (thank the lord, I'm sick of tripping over tractors in my kitchen), a new and larger family room (where the whole family can actually all be without sitting on top of each other) and renovating our existing family room into an much needed office for Papa Bear and I (the corner of the kitchen counter, in front of the dishwasher isn't really cutting it for my business space) all dancing in my head. Now I just want it done. Yesterday. Done.

I try, I really do. I just can't wait..for anything. It drives Papa Bear nuts. I hope patience (or lack of) isn't something that is hereditary or contagious, I don't want my boys to catch it and if it is something that is learned could someone please come over here and teach them so they don't have to worry about how red their face is turning while they wait for their turn on a roller coaster please?

Close Quarters

2010-07-14T23:56:00.002-04:00

Today we reached the point in our renovations that I knew was coming and I dreaded its arrival. Today was the day that Fuzzy's room needed to be evacuated and he would have to share a room with Little Bear likely for a couple of months.

I love my sleep and therefore not at all looking forward to my best sleeper being bunked up with my worst (although Wee One is in good contention to take over the title as worst...). For their entire lives all 3 of my boys have had their own separate rooms in my home. This is a big adjustment for me..err I mean them.

Little Bear is less than impressed to have his space invaded by a pint sized intruder. Fuzzy on the other hand couldn't be happier. It is like he won the lottery and was lifted up and dropped right in the middle of Big Boy World and surrounded by all that used to be forbidden fruit.

In Big Boy World there are real Lego - not that Megablock/Duplo block crap. The real deal, choking hazard, build a tower more than 10 blocks tall stuff. There are books with paper pages instead of cardboard (easier to digest after chewing half a page though not as filling). There are pencil crayons and scissors and all kinds of things that little boys aren't supposed to touch. There is a whole other pajama drawer to explore when the mood strikes to wear half a dozen different jammies to bed in one night. There is an alarm clock just begging to have its buttons pushed and time changed. Poor Little Bear.

The 2 boys had barely shared a room for more than a few hours when the fighting over territory started. Little Bear screaming at Fuzzy to put his blankets back on his bed and Fuzzy looking bewildered by the request. How are you supposed to tunnel through the blanket and pretend you are a caterpillar or such while the blankets are still on the bed? As if it was an unheard of request.

Today was just the beginning of hearing things like "he's touching all my stuff", "its my stuff too now", "he's making a mess!", he won't stay on his side" "that's mine!" among others. Oh how I long for this renovation to be complete! I can't wait to have an extra room that isn't full of stuff. I don't know why we didn't think of doubling up the boys to make room before - oh that's right because it is INSANE.

Walmart Wipeout

2010-06-23T10:22:00.003-04:00

I am such a loser. The other night I was headed to do a home party for my business when I decided to make a quick stop at Walmart for deodorant. (Just to clarify I already had deodorant on but was running low on it at home...not that the other situation has not happened since I tend to forget things often). I was a little over dressed for your local Walmart with my dress casual clothing and (super cute, pointed toe kitten heeled) dress shoes but who cares definitely not the people of Walmart.
I was in a bit of a hurry so away I went booking it down one of the main aisles toward the deodorant aisle.

Now I am not a professional high heel shoe wearer by any means and the particular shoes I had on didn't have a high heel they were just tiny little kitten heels. I'm pretty sure the following would have still happened in flip-flop just maybe not to the same degree.

I hit an overly buffed slippery spot on the floor partially down the main aisle. My feet went one way, my body went the other and I found myself laying on the floor in front of a dozen or so spectators. Oh how cool did I feel, laying on the floor in Walmart, in my dress clothes with half the contents of my fabulous pink purse scattered beside me while their stupid little yellow smiley face mascot laughs at me from the top of every aisle.

The lady directly in front of me looked mortified, "are you OK Dear?"
"Physically."
By physically I mean ouch that freaking hurt and is probably going to leave a bruise but nothing compared to the huge beating my pride just received. Seriously lady, stop looking at me. Just continue on with your shopping as if you hadn't seen a thing. Plleeaaasse.

I collected my scattered belongings, picked myself up off the floor and continued in a slower, more cautious way to the deodorant aisle, made my purchase and left the scene of my humiliation all the while resisting the need to limp on my way out of the store.

I can just imagine the guy sitting in front of the security monitors hitting rewind and play over and over again. At least I'm sure I put a smile on his face for the day. You're welcome.

Bear Family - Under Construction

2010-06-22T22:04:00.003-04:00

Papa Bear and I have been planning an addition to our house for a while now. It probably would have been completed a long time ago except for one big thing...Papa Bear is the KING of procrastination. Several months ago Papa Bear starting working a little more seriously on planning the addition. After about a dozen different drawings of what looked like the same thing we came up with a plan. (I really just think Papa Bear was in need of some arts and craft time so he could use his graph paper and ruler and pencils and stuff).

Papa Bear told me we were to break ground March 1st..April 1st...May 1st...June 1st...finally on June 21st a backhoe finally showed up in my yard to start the dig...only 3 months and 20 days later than I had originally been told to expect it. The crew of 2 were expected at 9am...they arrived at around 4:15pm... They dug 3 stumps out of the ground and called it a day. Wow, that was productive.

This morning they showed up bright and early and with a 3rd member of their crew a very tired and hung over member but a member none the less. I don't really think you have to be on top of your game to stand in a hole with a pole and occasionally do a bit of manual digging so I think he was good. However, his mama should have sent him with a bottle of sunscreen because he is going to be a hurting unit tomorrow.

They dug all day and it appears the hole is just about complete. I have been informed that they will be pouring cement tomorrow - for sure. "For Sure" - oh I can not count how many times I have heard these 2 little words that don't mean jack s--t. We shall see...

The boys are already testing the newly set limitations that have been imposed on them for the duration of the renovation. Wherever I tell them they aren't allowed to play they play. Whatever I tell them they aren't allowed to touch they touch. I have a feeling this is going to feel like a much longer process than it actually is.

It is only day 2 of renovation and already I've had enough. I'm sure my frustration with the situation will flow over to this blog more than once especially when it comes time to eliminate Fuzzy's room and 2 boys have to bunk up together. Lord give me the strength I'm going to need "for sure".

Legfro

2010-05-27T10:27:00.002-04:00

Even though we seemed to have skipped spring here in Southwestern Ontario, Canada and went straight from winter to summer, it is shorts weather again. Yay...... Not only do my pasty, white chicken legs not look appealing in any sort of leg baring apparel but there is that little task that us women do that has to be better kept up on. That's right I'm talking about shaving our legs.

Don't get me wrong I don't walk around like a hairy Sasquatch all winter or anything but I also don't shave my legs EVERY day either. Though I do know a few that do (Kat). I only bare my ankles and calf from under a pair of capris but I do like to have nice soft freshly shaved legs when all of Stinkburg can see them (even if they are blinded by the glare of their whiteness).

Shaving your legs doesn't sound like such a hard job, I know but when you have to squeeze a shower into 10-15 minutes with one kid playing in the bottom of the tub, one yelling at the door that he has to poop and Papa Bear coming in and out of the bathroom asking random questions and conferencing about what is going on during the week since this seems to be one of the few times both of us are home together for a few minutes, it can seem like a pretty big task.

Sometimes I think, why not just let it all grow out? I could grow a legfro and just pick it out all big and fluffy. Or braid it with beads on the ends that would sway when I walk. I haven't french braided any ones hair and could use the practice. Corn rows might be a nice touch. All of the above would cut down on the glare that is produced by my lack of tan.

Who decided women should shave their legs anyway? A man no doubt... If it had been a women she would have added a rule that required all men to trim their ear and nose hair daily or get pedicures and use hand moisturizer or something along those lines.

Of course their are some women that are willing to walk around au natural and let their leg fringe fly like giant tarantulas. Not really something anyone wants to see and hey if I can manage to find the time to make my legs look presentable so should you Legzilla.

Psychotic Psychic

2010-05-25T15:53:00.000-04:00

I don't know whether or not I believe in psychics or not. I don't count them out all together but I'm waiting for one to blow me away with their astonishing accuracy that will remove so much doubt.

A good friend, Ash Smoke and I went to a psychic who was part of a charity event. I was blown away but not by his astonishing accuracy but instead by his bizarre comments and ridiculously corny sense of humour (yeah I know could be considered the pot calling the kettle black). The man was nuts. Nuts I tell you.

He was a bit of a cliche dressed all in black, clutching a chunk of crystal. I told Ash if he pulled out a crystal ball I was out of there. He gibber-gabbered about karma and past lives and how we choose everything that happens in our lives before we are even conceived - I doubt very much that unless I was a mental patient in a previous life that I chose a lot of things.

He talked about how when someone does something bad to you in this lifetime it is because you have done something bad to them and the only way to stop the cycle is to forgive the other person. There are a few people that have "done me wrong" that I will give a few more lifetimes and a few more bouts of revenge before I forgive them and stop the cycle.

At the end of this crazy man's spiel he left opportunity for each person to ask him 4 questions in a person one on one. Of course you could ask additional questions for the low, low price of $4 each. I had some trouble coming up with my 4 questions. Not because I was worried what this man would think of me if I asked certain questions - let's face it I was for once the sanest of the of us - but because I just could think of 4 things I wanted to know about my future.

I decided to ask if I would have another child. This is something I go back and forth on all the time. It pretty much only depends on the behaviour of my current 3 children at the time. The psychotic psychic said no, I would not have anymore children. Hmmmm ok.

I asked if I would continue on the same career path and he said yes. As soon as I get rid of a job that will be fine with me.

I asked if my children would be successful in life. He said yes they would all be productive members of society. Whewwww a weight lifted. I guess now I never have to worry about any of my boys ending up in prison or Parliament.

My last question was whether or not my mother and I would ever be able to repair our relationship. He said no but we would be civil. This is where we are now so I guess this is where we stay. I can live with that even if it is not ideal.

All in all this weirdo did nothing to increase my belief in psychics but it was interesting to hear his take on some things, a fun day with Ash and a few bucks towards Cancer research and treatment.

Bad, Bad Blogger

2010-05-24T15:14:00.002-04:00

I've been a bad, bad blogger. String me up by my toes, tar and feather me, whatever (a little punishment could be fun ;)). In all fairness though I did warn my 2 readers I had in the beginning that I probably wouldn't be any good at this. I used to blog at night after all my baby bears where snug in their beds before I went to bed. These days that time is filled by my second job selling purses, jewelry and other fun girlie stuff.

I love blogging but it just doesn't seem to fit into my day like it did. I've had lots of things that have made me think "I'm going to blog about that" but never seemed to get a chance to sit down in front of the computer to make it happen. I've run into people who have said "you need to blog" or "I miss reading your blogs" and for those people I would love to have something for them. Maybe I could just call them up and tell them verbally while I pack lunches or input numbers into the computer for work? I'm a multi-tasker it could happen.

I do have a few things I really do need to share with my dwindling number of readers. A trip to a psychic among them. Rekindling old friendships. A good friend gone crazy. A dumb but beautiful dog. I'm definitely not lacking for topics just time.

Please come back and check for postings (I just had a mental picture of me hanging onto someones leg begging them not to leave their computer). I promise I'll try to post more often if time allows.

To Be Completed

2010-05-10T22:54:00.006-04:00

Tomorrow I turn 29. 29 is one year off from the big dirty 30. This stresses me out a bit but really what can I do?

There is something I didn't know. I didn't know that there were published lists of things that one must do or complete before they reach the age of 30. I'm glad this was brought to my attention now while its not too late. An old friend of mine found a book with a good list of these such things that need completion. I told her I was going to borrow this list (not that it really belongs to her but from a book) so here it is:

The must complete list (from Swim Naked, Defy Gravity & 99 Other Essential Things to Accomplish Before Turning 30 by Colleen Rush)

1. Swim Naked (done and done)
2. Break all of your parents' arbitrary rules (I think I did a good job of this while I was still living in their house and supposed to be following those rules
3. Grow something (Kids count?)
4. Dump toxic friends (a few friends, a husband and a few toxic family members)
5. Speak a foreign language (grade 10 Spanish? Baby gabber?)
6. Buy a kick-ass mattress (I'm currently sleeping on a cloud in form of a mattress so I'm good)
7. Draw & frame a self-portrait (was forced to draw one in an art class but I'm not sure it is frame worthy)
8. Stop chronic over-apologizing (I don't think anyone has ever accused me of being an over-apologizer)
9. Create your own sisterhood (The Crazy Mama Society was just that)
10. Travel solo (looking forward to completing this since I doubt a trip to Walmart counts or at least I'm not letting it count)
11. Develop a plan B. (developed and executed
12. Know your friends' family tree (I think I know what I need to know. We live in a small town - everyone is related to everyone)
13. Embrace your inner eight-year-old (easy enough to do when you live with a 7 seven year old)
14. Read: Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom by Christine Northrup M.D (I haven't really read much since the Twilight series so why not?)
15. Build a raging campfire (so done)
16. Make the first move (fat lot of good that did I ended up with X)
17. Know the other mouth-to-mouth (which is considered "the other" :))
18. Be your own muse (I think that I have been and am)
19. Master a signature family recipe (not a lot of choices here - Nana's ginger snaps,Grandma's cabbage salad, Mom's chili sauce?)
20. Quit something (quit smoking, quit X, quit biting my nails)
21. Find the perfect red lipstick (will work on this for sure)
22. Negotiate for something expensive (the only thing I have ever really negotiated for is a $5 item I purchased at a yard sale)
23. Google yourself (have in both senses...)
24. Hold your booze (I hold it in the bottle on the shelf. I know I can't hold it so I don't even bother)
25. Track down your best friend from kindergarten (she lives a few hours away with her husband and she plays in the dirt for a living :))
26. Masturbate (...)
27. Write a complaint letter (please see A Day at Dog Doo Park)
28. Claim your granny panties (I'm such a fan of granny-stay-where-I-damn-well-put-them panties)
29. Make brownies from scratch (scratch as in scooped from the bucket and heated in the oven right?)
30. Exorcise the words "like" and "you know" from your vocabulary (like, how am I supposed to do that? you know?)
31. Find your religion (probably not the religion that my grandmother had hoped but found never the less)
32. Write thank-you notes for everything (I am actually a pretty big fan of Thank you notes so I think I can write more)
33. Perfect your A.M. Stretch (done)
34. Declare your birthday a national holiday (always have. I have never worked on my birthday in all the years I have been employed)
35. Stock an emergency disaster kit (guess I found another one I need to get on top of)
36. Accept compliments (I started to do this after X)
37. Minimize pointless drama (I try I really do. I enjoy watching drama as long as I'm not a participant)
38. Unplug your TV for a while (for a long while my TV was rarely ever turned on)
39. Dye your hair an Outrageous color (hmmmmm Papa Bear would probably shoot me - he is pretty conservative)
40. Invest in seriously frivolous undies (done and worn once)
41. Own your mistakes (I do. I don't like to but I do.)
42. Take your hobby more seriously than your job (you have no idea)
43. Talk to strangers (I so do. Sometimes too much)
44. Get health insurance (just another reason its great to be Canadian)
45. Hook something high tech up by yourself (it was hooked up but it wasn't really pretty)
46. Live through a blind date (done)
47. Be a gracious guest (I try)
48. Escape creeps and kick criminal ass (the chance hasn't really arose so hopefully it does so I can complete this in the next year)
49. Invest in earplugs (I worked midnights for a while so I did)
50. Lose your virginity again (hahahaha)
51. Know your blood type (O positive... or maybe O negative...O something)
52. Confront someone who's done you wrong (done and it made my life better)
53. Walk in heels ( In My Red High Heels )
54. Write a body manifesto (I'm not likely to stick to it anyway)
55. Watch the sun rise and set on the same day by yourself (done)
56. Disagree out loud (I do this ALL the time)
57. Memorize your ring size (5)
58. Have a mantra (I have a few)
59. Research your family's medical history (lots of not so great stuff)
60. Do it somewhere risky (done)
61. Open a bottle of champagne (open it for someone else? I don't like the taste of it)
62. Make more money than you spend (pretty sure this isn't even possible)
63. Be a nudist for a day (done)
64. Adopt an awkward teenager (done)
65. Eat soy (done)
66. Dress for longevity (I don't typically buy anything that I can't get away with wearing for several years with very few exceptions that I almost alway regret later)
67. Kick one habit (smoking, X, nail biting)
68. Defy gravity done)
69. Own a cashmere sweater (scarf but no sweater...good reason to shop)
70. Use a great dermo (done)
71. Get over yourself (so done)
72. Sleep in a hammock (done)
73. Own a toolbox with all of the basics (I do and its pink)
74. Jettison your 'skinny' jeans (done)
75. Collect correspondence with friends (I have a file on my PC called "Letters from Australia" from the year my good friend spent there and sent emails on a regular basis)
76. Get a massage (done and so needs to be done again)
77. Memorize your favorite smells. Surround yourself with them (when I can smell more than coffee, peanut butter and dirty diapers)
78. Fall in love (or lust) without blowing off your friends (done just needed to use a do over)
79. Dub the "greatest hits" from your childhood (so done)
80. Care about where your food comes from (I care but I eat it anyway)
81. Fly first class (will have to fly to start with)
82. Cultivate your own style (done)
83. Carry something to read, a notebook, and a pen at all times (day planner?)
84. Forgive your parents (this is a tough one if nothing changes)
85. Be a dork (do I really need to work at this one?)
86. Stop slamming other women (we girls are terrible for this. Even those that say they don't do it sooooo do)
87. Get waxed down there (prefer to do my own landscaping but we shall see)
88. Adopt another motherland (?)
89. Tell someone your deepest darkest secret (I don't really have any I'm a pretty open book)
90. Make a killer cocktail (for someone else?)
91. Read your old diaries (done)
92. Tie a few knots (done)
93. Have your fortune told (going to do this for sure)
94. Cry often (spent too much time doing this)
95. Give yourself flowers (done)
96. Stop looking for a soul mate (done)
97. Give props to a teacher (done. Thanks Mr. M!)
98. Learn how not to be a flake (I think done?)
99. Give yourself a make-under (make under? there is an under to this?)
100. Be notorious for something (done)
101. Bounce back (SOOOOOO done)

It seems I have a pretty good handle of most of the list. I think I should be OK with a year to complete the rest. I'm not in as bad of shape as I had thought

Stain Strain

2010-04-08T23:19:00.003-04:00

It's no secret that I am not a big fan of laundry. I'm pretty sure there aren't a lot of people that are fans of laundry. What do I dislike more than doing laundry? Doing the same laundry more than once to get it clean.

I have 3 boys. Stains have a major presence in my life. I probably should have invested in stocks in Spray & Wash a long time ago. Lord knows I go through the stuff like it is going out of style. A regular sized bottle barely gets me through more than a week.

Little Bear isn't too hard on his shirts. He hits his mouth (or the floor) with his food most of the time and saving his tops. He doesn't however, ever have a single pair of pants in the laundry that don't have grass stains. I don't think that boy actually walks on his feet. I think he crawls everywhere.

Fuzzy is a very effective stainer. He never does it half-assed. If he stains a shirt it won't be a little spot around the neckline or anything simple like that. Nooooo he will completely change to colour of the entire front of a shirt resulting in multiply washes and reapplying of stain remover. He is relatively new to grass stains but let me tell you, like his tops he goes all out. I'm thinking of just buying him only green pants from here on out.

Wee One is 1.5. It is expected that he make a mess of his shirt. He does not wear white. Period. Wee One is a toddler. He toddles. When one toddles they also topple quite often which contributes to the stain count. The problem with treating Wee Ones stains is that the grass stains are not specific to the knees of his pants but also the cuffs and most of the backside. Since he has taken to thinking he is a big boy and can use the big boy slide on the climber he has also started to grass stain his shirts. I guess it happens when you do a face plant at the bottom 4 out of 5 times. Doesn't seem to faze him because he keeps doing it regardless of Papa Bear and I's discouragement.

Half the stains I end up having to treat multiple times are acquired when my boys are not with me. Daycare is a great source for stains but I expect that and so Fuzzy wears a lot of black, brown and navy there. I can measure fun by the number of stains he comes home from daycare with. Little Bear collects a lot of stains at school. Also expected. Some from Grandmas and some from X's and a good portion from when I'm working through dinner and Papa Bear is in charge at meal time. When Mama is home we eat just about anything red shirtless...well they do, I don't. Ok well sometimes I do but only when I'm dining alone.

I find myself getting mad at the stains. "Why won't you just come out!?" My boys jeans are half worn out by the time I've washed them enough times to get the stains out. It doesn't seem to matter which stain remover I try either. I have tried everything and Spray & Wash kicks butt on grass stains so that's usually what I'm packing.

Now you will have to excuse me I need to go change half the load of laundry over to the dryer and respray and rewash the other half...

Fuzzy Needs An Exorcist

2010-03-22T20:20:00.004-04:00

Last night I witnessed something I have never seen before. I picked Little Bear and Fuzzy up from X's in the late afternoon. When I we left X's building I noticed that Fuzzy had a devilish look in his eye. Not completely out of the normal but I had no idea that it was a warning for what was to come.

Shortly into our 45 minute ride home Fuzzy began kicking the back of my seat. Not just kicking but booting it will all his might might be more accurate until I finally had enough and pulled over and moved his seat as far back as it would go and mine as far up as I could stand. Just as we were turning onto our road Fuzzy started to say over and over "I don't wanna go home"
"Well where would you like to go then?"
"I don't know"
"Super, well in the meantime we are going home"
He continued still as we pulled into our driveway where he refused to get out of the van.

I am not someone that will waste my time trying to coax or reason with a 3 and half year old. After a really busy weekend and a day of work I didn't really have an abundance of patients at this point either so I left him in the van and headed for the house with Little Bear. I figured the minute he realized I wasn't playing and was leaving him he would no doubt be right at my side going into the house like has happened a time or 2 before but no. The little stinker just stood in the van glaring at the house. 15 minutes later he still hadn't shown any signs of resigning and I was getting tired of spying from the house instead of eating my dinner so I went to get him. This ended in me carrying him under one arm screaming and kicking and his boots that he refused to put back on in my other hand.

Once in the house my sweet little Fuzzy turned into that girl from The Exorcist. He screamed and growled and kicked and spit and drooled and practically foamed at the mouth. I was pretty sure that at same point his head was indeed going to spin around backwards and we were going to be looking for a priest to save him. This went on and on accompanied by whipping toys, kicking the floor, bed, wall, door in his bedroom and just having a full fledged freak out.

I was seeing a side of Fuzzy I have never seen before in all of his 3 and a half years and that I hope I never see again anytime soon. He eventually peed his pants and was then forced to calm himself enough to get his wet clothes off just to start again and protest the pajamas I was trying to wrangle him into. Finally he decided to take one of the options that I laid out for him. He could sit quietly and eat his supper or he could take his hissy fit to bed for the night. He chose to eat his supper and instantly transformed back into my little boy.

I have seen a few moods swing but holy crap this was a bit ridiculous especially for a 3 and a half year old who is typically easy to get along with.

The Good Ol Hockey Game

2010-03-14T16:38:00.005-04:00

For his birthday this year I bought Papa Bear 2 tickets to see his favourite hockey team, the Detroit Red Wings play in Detroit. Originally the ticket were bought for Papa Bear to take a friend to the game. I didn't really think this through because Papa Bear happens to have 2 best friends (twins). He didn't want to choose between them so instead decide he would like me to go with him (yay...). Lesson learned, next time I will be purchase 3 tickets and they can go as a 3 some (not that kind of 3 some, get your mind out of the gutter).

Not only is attending hockey games not really my thing but the game date just happened to fall on the night that the clocks spring ahead and I also qualified to bowl in a bowling tournament out of town the next morning (which came an hour earlier). Papa Bear is lucky I love him let me tell you.

We started our evening out stuck on a smelly, fully loaded bus making our way through the Windsor Detroit underwater tunnel to the USA for an hour. Normally this trip is a 5 minute trip... Around the half way point one of the guys squished into the back of the bus says out loud "I really have to fart. I was trying to hold it in but this is taking too long and I can't hold it in any longer" and then he did. When we arrived at Cobo Centre we were already late for the game as the bus load of people walked briskly/ran for the arena. Oh, did I mention that it was pouring rain? It was pouring rain. We got to our - well not OUR seats (our seats were occupied by butts that didn't belong to us) but close to our seats about 10 minutes into the first period - and 3 goals... The Wings were ahead so it was fine.

About 2 seconds after we sat down I discovered that sitting behind me and slightly to my left was one of those super loud fans that screams at both teams all through the game at the top of his lungs. We will call him Southern Hick since he and his wife had a nice southern drawl to their screams. Just freaking great. By about the middle of the second period not only was I deaf in my left ear but the left sleeve of my jacket was also damp from all the saliva that was flyng from this loud mouth's yap when he yelled. Thanks SH!

At some one point during the game a player from the opposing team was given a penalty for "hooking" to which SH responded loudly (in my ear and all over my sleeve), "your mother is a hooker!" and then turned to Mrs. SH and asked "did I just say that?"
"Yaw, you did"
"Sorry dear"
Oh my.

SH couldn't just join his fellow Red Wings fans in chanting "let's go Red Wings, let's go". Nooooo while they chanted that he felt the need to fill in the words "Sabers suck!" loudly (in my ear and all over my sleeve). Apparently SH thinks that every single shot the players took was supposed to land in the net because he was some ticked off that they weren't. As if he were handed a pair of skates and a stick he would simply waltz out there and show them how it was done. Seriously buddy chill! I'm all for CHEERING on your team but this dude was seriously getting on my last nerve.

Finally after a tied game resulting in overtime, Papa Bear's team won the game and it was time to do a mad dash back out in the rain to the bus for the trip back to "our home and native land". Again on a smelly, full bus but for a much quicker ride back.

I'm glad Papa Bear enjoyed the game and that his team won but I'm definitely buying 3 tickets next time or Papa Bear is getting a sweater for his birthday next year.

SlightlyInsane to CompletelyInsane

2010-03-09T22:05:00.003-05:00

I'm pretty sure in the last month I have gone from SlightlyInsaneStacey to CompletelyInsaneStacey. Life seems to be coming at me full speed and I'm just trying not to swallow any flies.

The blog has totally been neglected due to the craziness that is our life and I do feel bad about that because not only do I have devoted readers and a sudden rush of SITS visitors but it is also enjoyable for me. A sort of therapy to relieve the stress.

I've been busy. Busy throwing Little Bear's 7th birthday party. Nothing more fun than a group of 7ish year olds trying to bowl like the pros. They had fun though and that was the goal. Highlights include being asked if I could make a good tasting cake next time(first attempt at fondant icing = fail). It looked beautiful, tasted like crap. Another would be when I was reminded that one child routinely pukes during almost every meal and she did not disappoint. Lots of fun. Oh and on the way home I saw a dead raccoon on the side of the road wearing a party hat.

I've been busy starting a second job. Doing home parties selling purses, jewellery, scarves and other girlie things. I love it and since coffee slinging isn't paying the bills these days it is nice that I can do something I am having fun with to contribute more and make the same amount but with less hours as the coffee slinging.

Papa Bear and I have been busy planning and shopping for our new addition to our house. I'm looking forward to doubling the size of our home but not the whole construction thing. Doubling up 2 of the boys is not something I am looking forward to at all. Not even pretty, fancy bathroom facets or an extra bedroom can smooth that stress. A walk in closet comes close though. It seems almost everyday there is a message on the machine from some contractor/plumber/electrician/build something guy. At this point I am pretty sure this addition is going to be beautiful on the inside and hideous on the outside. I guess I will just have to close my eyes when I pull into the driveway.

I've also been busy trying (again and still) to potty train the untrainable Fuzzy. I hate cleaning crap out of underwear even more than dirty diapers. I don't understand how he can be dry for 9 hours of daycare and then be home for an hour and go through 3 pairs of underwear. What did he do store it all day? Thanks Fuzzy but you can leave a deposit at daycare thanks.

Hopefully life will slow down a bit soon. Until then I guess we will just have to roll with it. Busy is far better than boring and boring just isn't my thing.

Older and Wiser?

2010-02-14T23:52:00.004-05:00

Today I was retelling an old tale that I thought maybe my blog readers might enjoy.

It happened last year around this time when the river that runs behind our farm became jammed with ice resulting in the river running over its banks in many places. One of the places that it ran over was in the back of our field which then froze and provided a nice little patch of ice to skate on (for a couple of days) before we eventually decided to make our own rink closer to the house (another tale that should be retold).

I used to figure skate. I started at about age 6 which is considered old to start and so my Olympic dreams where already about 3 years behind my peers when I started. Never the less I loved to skate and continued to do so in some capacity up until the point that I became pregnant with Little Bear.

When the ice rink formed in the back field I thought this was an excellent opportunity to strap on the ol' blades and revisit the sport I enjoyed for years (Papa Bear and I have some argument about whether or not it is actually a sport - we won't go there).

The first obstacle that I came across was that both pairs of skates that I own seem to have shrunk? No, that's not right but they sure as heck didn't fit well at all. Oh well I bucked up and tied them up anyway. No pain, no gain right? More like no pain, no blisters but either way I sucked it up. The second obstacle was that my skates had not been sharpened in over 6 years, also a problem but not enough to stop me.

It was a pretty shaky start but eventually it got a little easier and I felt pretty good skating around in circles and testing edges with ease. Stopping resulted in a few near falls but I felt great. So great that I thought what the heck lets try something bigger. I started with a few really simple jumps that didn't require much skill and when they were successfully executed I got a little cocky and decided to go BIGGER. That is where the trouble started.

It was a pretty basic jump (which I am not going to mention the name of because of how basic it is and so it would be that much more embarrassing). I entered the jump not too badly. Even the take off was not terrible but the landing, well the landing didn't really exist. Instead I ended up flat on my back staring up at the sky. I remember laying there and can clearly recall the fluffy white clouds floating in a blue-grey sky. I remember laying there unsure whether or not I was capable of getting up as my body reminded me I was not 18 anymore.

I remember laying there thinking: I hope nobody drove by at that particular time that I made my failed attempt. I have to get up but just not quite yet. If my mother in law looks out her kitchen window right now and sees me laying here like this she is going to panic and think that I am hurt (or possibly dead) and send someone out here. I have to get up.

So I gathered myself (and my dignity) and picked my poor aching body up off the cold ice and stood there for a second thinking about what an idiot I was for trying to launch my older, larger, wimpier body into the air. Was I nuts? Older and wiser? - I think not!

The rest of my skating for the rest of the winter kept both my feet on the ground (except when my butt was). I don't think I will be attempting anything that crazy again at least until I have removed some of the obstacles such as getting skates that fit better and that have nice sharp blades. For now I will have to settle for watching others hurl themselves into skating jumps on TV from the safety of my couch.

Surviving Chesty's Driving

2010-02-07T23:28:00.006-05:00

Have you ever been in a vehicle with a straight up wild, crazy, bad (not so much bad as ummmm....manic) driver? I have and her name is Chesty McBreasty (OK, that's not really her name but it is her well deserved alias). She's nuts.

I recently traveled to a meeting an hour and a half or so from home with Chesty. If you follow the blog you know I am a Freak Behind The Wheel and will not/can not drive in busy traffic so my only other choices were to not go or endure Chesty's driving. I know from past experiences that Chesty's driving is not a smooth ride so the thought of taking a Graval before leaving popped into my head almost immediately.

While I am very, very grateful to Chesty for driving I have to say that I am pretty sure I had a brush with death during that round trip.

It started out not too bad with just the usual last minute stops and fast corners and from there got more and more interesting. On the way to the highway a very brave raccoon decided to cross Chesty's path and scampered across the road and actually made it safely to the other side. It must have been his lucky day.

It was when we entered the highway that Chesty's little pink (yes, pink)and black Neon became a little pink and black rocket as she sped through the lanes of traffic. Surprisingly this was the most relaxing part of the trip.

We arrived at our destination in one piece. The ride back was a lot more interesting.

I became the designated texter (thankfully) and had the job of reporting our whereabouts to Mr. Mad-face (also known as Chesty's husband) and our estimated time of arrival back at home. All was fine until Chesty decided it was a good idea to talk to her mother on her cell at the same time as drive. She should know from past experiences that she is not fully capable of driving and talking and doing so usually ends up in a ticket for failing to stop at a red light or stop sign.

The talk and drive resulted in Chesty almost missing our turn off and pulling a super wide frightening crazy turn which thankfully she was able to barely keep out of the path of an oncoming transport truck. I'm pretty sure that little pink hot rod was up on 2 wheels at some point.

Back in town, we had one more stop to make before bidding ado and heading our separate ways. A block from that last stop there was a stop sign that Chesty SLOWED at and while looking around at her surroundings stomped back on the accelerator without noticing the poor kitty trying to make his way across the street. RUN KITTY! I'm pretty sure he used up one of his 9 lives right there and was probably searching for the nearest litter box (I know I was).

In the end my nerves were frazzled. My pants were slightly soiled (not really but close) and my heart had stopped a total of half a dozen times but I was still alive and kicking. Really when I think about it, it was really just one really long roller coaster without a track and I love roller coasters! I had survived Chesty's driving - Let's do it again!

Mama Long Legs

2010-02-03T23:37:00.003-05:00

I have long legs, like really long legs. Long legs are great for all kinds of things. They give me extra height (so I can reach things on the top shelf in my kitchen cabinets) and help to make me appear thinner (always a good thing). They look great with high heels (now that I can walk in them) and look nicer with capris (though my legs are long they are very skinny and chickeny so shorts are out of the question). They are not however great or good for one thing for this Mama Long Legs and that is buying pants.

Who gets to decide what is considered average leg length? A midget (sorry, little person to be politically correct)? Have they lost sight of the fact that pants can be hemmed but they can not be lengthened? Short people get petite sizing which is available just about anywhere and the rest of us get average. I know there are tall sizes but you can’t just walk into your local Walmart and find them and when you do find them they are usual higher priced. What’s the deal with that? They make shorter pants so shrimps don’t have to pay to have their pants tailored but I have to pay more if I want pants to fit.

I’m cheap. I mean frugal so I don’t spend a lot on my clothes (which may or may not be obvious by my wardrobe). Most of my apparel was purchased at the Walmart Boutique where I frequently shop. I have 4 pairs of jeans that I have purchased there and all of them supposedly the same size. They all fit when I tried them on in the change room (where on one trip Fuzzy was adamant that he was going to eat a mint he found on the floor). However, only one pair fits after a trip through the dryer. None of them are the same length, not one pair. They all say on the tag that they are the same but in reality that is a big fat lie.

One pair is just completely out of question for me to wear in public. My ankles are cold when I wear them so, with a big roll of the hem they have become a pair of capris and now belong in my summer wardrobe. Two of the other pairs are close to the same length, neither of which are the proper length to wear with any kind of shoes and therefore I’m not comfortable sitting down while wearing them especially if my routine leg shaving has been neglected for a few days or if my socks don’t match (it happens. In fact it has happened today). The fourth pair are great and even long enough to wear with a pair of low heels. Unfortunately I have not been able to find a pair that long since for under $25.

Then at Christmas time my mother in law bought me some long sleeve shirts from a higher class boutique (higher class than Walmart anyway) that where unfortunately too short in the sleeves. (I have freakishly long arms to match my long legs making it difficult to buy long sleeved shirts as well). When I took the shirts back I was given a store credit. I went directly to the jeans. They didn’t really have a lot to choose from and a lot of what they did have was kind of…grandma-ish and then I picked up a crazy long pair that looked like something a person in their (late) twenties could wear.

When I put them I didn’t know if the pant legs actually had an end they were so incredibly long. Impressed, I did the regular check. Ass looks good, check. Waist does not create a muffin top (the roll of fat that falls over the top of a pair of pants that don’t fit properly in the waist and makes you look the same shape as a muffin), check. There was no need to check the length to make sure I wasn’t waiting for heavy rains since I was standing on the pant legs. Since I was using my store credit I only briefly glanced at the price tag - $95 reduced to $55. Holy crap! Thank god for Christmas gifts that don’t fit!

After a trip to the tailor – yes the freaking tailor – Mama Long Legs has a pair of jeans that fit just like I like them in the length and my super long fabulous jeans where ready to be worn like nobody’s business. I have never in my life had to have a pair of pants hemmed until now and it is great to be able to pick how long I want my pants. I am now so envious of short legged people who get to enjoy this luxury on a regular basis. I want pants that are too long from now on. If anyone knows where I can get some (cheap) let me know.

Stoup's On

2010-02-02T23:56:00.005-05:00

I am a big fan of soup. I like most soups with the exception of just about any soup with noodles. Noodles belong on a plate and for me that's where they shall stay not in my bowl of steamy, delicious soup. I am a fan of soup but have never made my own unless you count the soup I prepare with help from the people at Campbell's or at the Donut Shack where I add the water. Papa Bear must have been feeling in a festive mood or something and decided to make a turkey for dinner the other night and I thought it was a great opportunity to make some fresh, homemade turkey soup.

I didn't know to make turkey soup so I Googled it like I do everything I don't know. I swear I have learned more by Googling than I ever did in school. The results of my Google search were some fantastic sounding recipes but included all kinds of herbs and spices that I do not stock in my very limited pantry. So what do you do when you need some help? Ask for it in a Facebook status of course. I asked and I received some guidance from an old friend.

I wasn't about to call Papa Bear with a grocery list of things like garlic cloves, bay leaves and thyme to pick up on his way home but carrots and onions he can manage so I called his cell phone that rang from the china cabinet behind me... Thankfully Papa Bear is in the habit of calling before he leaves work to see if we need anything. What a good Papa Bear :).

While I waited for Papa Bear to arrive with the rest of my ingredients I started at tearing the turkey carcass apart. For some reason I find turkey joints and tendants really creepy and found myself with a case of heebie jeebies (as my Nana says). Just gross. I'm sure I'm not all that beautiful under my skin but eww.

In no time my house smelled of the delicious smelling concoction even though it looked like swamp water. The broth production was a very successful operation so I strained and chopped up my veggies. I don't really care for dark turkey meat nor does anyone else in the Bear family so I kept a little bit of it in the pot but the dogs got the majority of it. I'm sure they are both going to sleep in their little doggy houses with big smiles on their faces tonight.

The tough decision for the soup was barley, rice or pasta. I already expressed my dislike for noodles in my soup but Papa Bear is pro noodle and tried his best to sway me to the noodle side. The barley I thought was in the cupboard was not so rice won the spot in the soup. Now, deciding how much rice to add is a hard call and I really like rice but I did know that it would absorb the broth and only added 3/4 of a cup. That would turn out to be a poor choice and a big over estimate. Shortly after I started to cook the soup again with the rice and veggies included I looked in the pot to no longer find soup but instead what will be referred to as stoup - not soup, not quite stew but somewhere in between.

Blah Monday...

2010-01-25T20:00:00.005-05:00

Monday strikes again! My day probably wouldn't have been so bad if I had gone to bed at a decent time (a decent time being before 1:30am) and if it didn't rain most of the day.

I was awoken at a little after 6am to the sound of my text message alert sounding from my cell phone charging in the kitchen. To prevent the rest of the house being disturbed at such an early hour I did a mad dash to the kitchen tripping over miscellaneous toys along the way. The message was from Papa Bear telling me that the school bus was cancelled...something I could have waited until the alarm clock went off in 45 minutes to find out...

The bus was cancelled due to fog. Fog? I looked out the window and across the fields and beyond. Fog? Not in my world but OK. The bus being cancelled is not the end of the world it just means some juggling of our morning routine and I am definitely going to be late for work (not that big a deal to me at all).

I tried to fall back to sleep but since that didn't seem to be happening I decided to boot up the computer instead. I subscribe to the bus information site and it is supposed to send me emails to let me know when the bus is cancelled or delayed. This morning I got 3 different emails. 1 to say the buses were running. Then, 1 to say that they were cancelled and then 1 to say that they were cancelled for elementary schools and delayed for 2 hours for secondary schools which leads me to believe that the people that are in charge of my sons transportation to school are morons. Not only do they see invisible fog but THEY don't even seem to know if the bus is running or not.

Of course the boys were in Monday mode too and none of them wanted to get up this morning and 2 out of 3 decided that the first thing they needed to do this morning was crap their pants (just to clarify that would be the unpotty-trainable 3 year old and my 1.5 year old - not my 6 year old). When they were all cleaned up and dressed they proceeded to fight and bicker for the next while as I tried to get backpacks ready and locate missing boots and mittens.

Finally Wee One was picked up by my father in law and Little Bear, Fuzzy and I were headed to the school which just happens to be almost 20 minutes in the opposite direction of the daycare and the Donut Shack. Little Bear dropped at school, Fuzzy to daycare and my breakfast of Nutrigrain bars and Crystal Light consumed I arrived at the Donut Shack. I arrived to find I was working with 1 of my least favourite people today. Oh well whatever, I'll survive.

I spent the day working a less than desirable job that made the clock stop moving. All day I looked at the stupid thing that seemed to be laughing at me from way up there on the wall above us all tick, tick, ticking away without ever getting any farther ahead. It seems I was not the only one with a case of the Mondays since customers seemed to be in fine form today also. My day was full conversations similar to the following:
"Welcome to the Donut Shack can I take your order?"
"Give me a green tea with milk"
"What size would you like?"
"Green tea with milk"
"What size would you like?"
"Ggggreeeeennn teeeeeeaaa with millllllk" (you know because they think I am the moron in this situation...)
"So large?"
Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It wasn't the worst Monday to date but it definitely wasn't great. Just blah. Again I find myself thankful Mondays only come around once a week.

Bejeweled

2010-01-21T20:50:00.004-05:00

Freaking Bejeweled. If you don't know what Bejeweled is it is a highly addictive puzzle game most often played online. By highly addictive I mean will take over all your extra seconds of your existence. I hate this silly game. By hate I mean I love it oh so very much, so much that if it were a man I would offer to marry it and have it's babies.

Every night I sit down at my trusty laptop and plan to entertain you with a humorous and witty post but usually decide to just play 1 or 2...or 3..or 4...or 5 games of Bejeweled and before I know it I have lost hours. The game is only 1 minute long and I lose hours!

As if the addiction wasn't bad enough I play on Facebook so it gives you a list up the side of all my friends' scores. If one of my friends has a higher score I can't stop until I have beaten their score and again rein at the top of the leader board. Bejeweled on Facebook also erases the scores every Tuesday afternoon and the competition starts again so regardless of how amazingly high my score is it only secures my top position (not that top position) for a week at the most.

Someone else I know that suffered from a Bejeweled addiction once said to me that when she looks at peoples' faces she wants to move their nose up between their eyes to complete a line. I get it KL,I get it! I Bejewel in the morning, I Bejewel in the afternoon, I Bejewel in the evening and underneath the moon.

Right now I am Bejeweling between paragraphs. What is wrong with me (just a note there is not enough room in the comment section for any of you to actually try to answer that question so please don't bother). I'm sure all my online friends think that I have super slow Internet because I don't answer their instant messages right away when in reality I am Bejeweling between messages and there is no way I'm going to answer them before the full minute of the game is up.

I need help (for lots of things but in this case I am only expressing my need for help with my Bejeweled addiction). At this point my Bejeweled play time out weighs my blogging time and is slowing down my recent cleaning, sorting, purging spree. It is my crack. My name is SlightlyInsaneStacey and I am Bejeweled.

Bitten By A Dust Bunny?

2010-01-16T21:10:00.006-05:00

I must be ill. Perhaps I have been bitten by a dust bunny. They run rampant here and can be quite vicious. That is the only explanation for what has been going on at my house for the last 96 hours or so. I, SlightlyInsaneStacey have been doing lots and lots and lots of housework.

You may be thinking, big freaking deal but if you know me or have been reading my blog for any amount of time you know that housework is my enemy. I hate it. I would rather walk on hot coals than scrub a floor or dust a ceiling fan. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a clean house and might actually have one if I had decided to remain single and childless.

My house would be spotless if Papa Bear helped out with the cleaning more and...the kids moved out.

Little Bear should not have had 1.5 loads of his own dirty clothes the other day when I decided it was time to once again for Climbing Mt. Laundry and Papa Bear had not had 2. I think I did almost 10 loads of laundry including bedding and towels. Far too many in my opinion.

I cleaned my bedroom yesterday. It seems to teenagerish to say that but I did. There are no longer any toys left in my bedroom. It is officially back to being and adult room. It seems so much bigger without the unfolded baskets of clean clothes and the over flowing hampers of dirty ones.

In the last few days I (finally) accepted that I have far too many clothes for my 3 little bears and that I had to let some go. I want to keep it all. Between the 3 boys I have collected enough clothes to clothe 30 little boys. I did a huge (well huge for me) purge of all the baby clothes that I decided I didn't need to keep for the next baby (yes, next baby - I am nuts) and settled with one large tote of everything from birth-24 months. I also went through the totes I had already packed of clothes that are between the sizes my boys are wearing and downsized them too. All in all I got rid of the equivalent of about 3 garbage bags of clothes. A success in my book.

Today I tackled scrubbing floors. Not an easy task when there are 3 sets of feet running all over then or little hands stealing clothes. I managed to get done my bedroom floor, the front entrance way (that no one ever enters through) and the kitchen (the worst of all the floors in our entire house to keep clean). 2.5 out of 10 rooms isn't bad...right? I guess that will be my goal to complete before I run out of this burst of Martha Stewartness.

It should be interesting to see how all my hard work will look when I get home from a full day of work after Papa Bear is here with the 3 boys all day. I told him he should take them for a very, very long drive so they are out all day and don't have a chance to mess the house up.

This Little Piggy Freaks Me Out

2010-01-15T22:35:00.006-05:00

Feet are probably the cutest part of a baby's body...and the grossest of an adults. How is that possible? With age grows creepiness when it comes to feet I guess.

Feet gross me out. I have a hard enough time trimming my own toenails that it makes it even more difficult to trim the toenails of the 3 little bears. Wee One's are not too bad. His feet are still pudgy and cute and kissable. Fuzzy's are still not terrible. The problem with him is trying to get him to sit still long enough to clip all 10.

Little Bear on the other hand is a bit of a challenge. He's not a baby. He's a smelly little boy. The last time I had to prepared myself mentally for the job ahead. I was only touching fresh from the bath feet so when he got out of the tub I got ready just to find that his nails where nice and trim already? "I cut them myself" he told me.
"You used the nail clippers by yourself?" I asked, trying to picture him in all his awkward, lack of coordination with a pair of nail clippers.
"No, I used my teeth" was his response.
Eww. Just freaking eww. Pardon me while I choke down the vomit rising up my throat.

Adult feet are just gross. I can't even think of any other word to describe them. They almost always have hair on them and the toes are big and creepy. Then there are the people that make me a little bit afraid of feet. I'm talking about the people that think it is attractive to grow their toenails out nice and long. Not attractive. Not attractive at all. Who are you Toe-verine? A Saber Toed Tiger? Frightening.

My feet are not exempt from the grossness. In fact I have horrible ugly feet. They are long and skinny. My second toe is longer than the rest. I have a bunion on my right foot and spurs on my heels from years of figure skating. They are terrible and why I pass up a lot of very adorable open toed shoes. Another reason why I would trade sandal wearing summer for fabulous foot hiding boot weather of winter in a heart beat.

To think some people actually have foot fetishes. Nasty. I think feet should be kept covered up. Socks, slippers, shoes, or boots I don't care but cover those things up.

Finders Keepers

2010-01-11T18:33:00.003-05:00

I lose things. I lose things a lot. Clothing (not usually the in the "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" kind of way), important papers, receipts that I'm supposed to keep, those little cards they give you at the doctors or dentist office to remind you of the date and time of your next appointment, all kinds of things.

On Friday I lost my keys...all of them. The key to the Magic Pumpkin, the 2ND key to Papa Bear's truck, my house key, all of them. I had them when I got home from taking Wee One to the doctor's office but then couldn't find them later when it was time to take Little Bear and Fuzzy to X's. I didn't really have time to worry about it Friday night. I looked in a few places but didn't really put a lot of effort into the hunt. Papa Bear has the 2ND key to the Magic Pumpkin so it was OK. I was just going to look for them later.

Saturday morning Papa Bear and I searched for the lost keys. I still don't know how I managed to lose a key ring containing 2 very large vehicle keys (Dodge, really? I don't think this would have happened if I could fit my keys in my jean pocket), a tiny swiss army knife, and a couple of big key chains all hooked onto a lanyard (you know those long strings similar to what "latch key kids" wore around their neck in Elementary school) but I did.

We searched the snowy yard around the van (which my Father in law was nice enough to plow - making the search that more interesting). The Saturday search still did not result in the keys being found but it did result in Papa Bear leaving the side door to the van open and causing me a stressful Sunday morning when it was time to leave for work shortly after 7 a.m. with a vehicle that didn't want to start...

Papa Bear continued to look for the lost keys while I worked and when Little Bear and Fuzzy got home from X's he interrogated them. We were still coming up empty and I had submitted to the fact that the keys were indeed gone. Luckily for me I had purchased the key replacement package on the Magic Pumpkin and just needed to call the dealership for a new $250 key but I would have to pay for Papa Bear's replacement. I planned to call the dealership when I got home from work today.

However, when I got home from work, there on the key hook where I normally keep my keys was the familiar string and bundle of keys. Yay! Papa Bear found my keys....in the dog's house?! That little thief had taken them for her own. What the heck did she plan to do with them? Take the van for a cruise? Have a tailgate party with all her doggy friends with Papa Bear's truck? Throw a party while we were out? Do her laundry? Really? What would possess her to drag them to the other side of the yard and hide them? Did she think we were going to let her keep them? Thank goodness she didn't decide just to floss with them.

I guess I know where to look for things first from now on. I wonder if she has anything else stashed in there? Maybe that's where the mismatched sock mates go. Or Wee Ones missing shoe? The dozens of mittens we have already lost this winter? This is not finders keeper Roxy, keep your doggy paws off my stuff!

Calling All Tooth Fairies

2010-01-07T21:40:00.004-05:00

Calling all Tooth Fairies! Can we get together please to discuss our costs? Could we please come to some sort of agreement of what is fair price for teeth? Can there please be some consistency across the board?

When Little Bear lost his first tooth, the Tooth Fairy was completely stumped. How much money am I supposed to leave for a single tooth? There doesn't seem to be any standard for which to follow. Certainly teeth are subject to inflation like anything else right? I'm sure I'm supposed to leave more than the quarter I used to get. The most I ever received for one of my pearly whites was 1 dollar and I think that was the very last one to leave my mouth.

I asked some friends who's responses varied from a dollar a tooth to 5 dollars a tooth. 5 dollars a tooth?! Oh, how many more Bottle Cap candies and Wacky Taffy I could have bought if the Tooth Fairy had left me 5 dollars for each of my teeth. I could have consumed so much more sugar, which in return would have sped up her business. I'm thinking my Tooth Fairy was not very business savvy.

There was no way I was leaving 5 freaking dollars for Little Bear every time he lost a tooth. How many teeth do they have in there anyway? Probably like a trip to the grocery store worth at 5 mutha lovin' dollars a piece. Finally I decided that the Tooth Fairy should leave Little Bear 5 dollars for his FIRST tooth and a nice little note explaining that he was receiving a little extra only because it was his first tooth and any subsequent teeth would bring in only 1 dollar each.

I thought that was fair and Little Bear seemed happy with the agreement... That was until he came home from school one day and tells me that Little Miss Sally Stir-the-shit told him that the Tooth Fairy leaves 5 dollars for every one of her teeth. S#@* Sally, what the hell?!

How can I explain to Little Bear that his teeth are worth less than Sally's because his Tooth Fairy's only other income is a part time, minimum wage paying coffee pouring gig?

So, it is at this time that I really would like to call a meeting for all us Tooth Fairies to get together for a Tooth Fairy conference of sort and make guidelines so that some other up and coming Fairies don't have to deal with a Sally Stir-the-shit?

Bedtime Battleground

2010-01-05T22:04:00.003-05:00

If you follow my blog you have already read about my bedtime woes with Fuzzy. Little Bear and Wee One have rarely been a problem at bedtime - until now... Our house turns into a battle ground at bedtime and I'm on the losing side.

Wee One used to go to bed not too badly all snuggled into his crib where he would stay. He would wake a couple of times at night during the course of a week. Usually a hug and a kiss and back in the crib and he was good. That all changed when he learned he could escape his crib. Once he discovered his new found freedom there was no keeping him in bed so when I bought Fuzzy a new regular sized twin bed we took the crib down and Wee One inherited the blue toddler sized race car bed. I swear that bed is cursed.

Since moving to his new bed Wee One has been a challenge at bedtime. The only way we can even keep him in his bedroom is to put a baby gate up at the doorway. He's fine with that except that he repeatedly throws his bestest buddy without whom he does not sleep, Froggy, over the gate and then wants him retrieved. This game goes on and on until he decides he's had enough and finally takes Froggy to bed. You can almost guarantee that is not the last you will hear from Wee One. We will be spending some more time together during the course of the night when the only way he will go back to sleep is if one of us lays with him (in the toddler sized race car bed). I have to say it is quite a sight to see Papa Bear in there with his arms and legs hanging over the edges in every direction.

Little Bear has always been a saint when it comes to bedtime. The best sleeper of the bunch. You could put him to bed at 7:30 and he would be asleep by 7:35 and sleep through until he had to be waken for school in the morning. Little Bear also has a new bed. We said goodbye to our space hogging bunk beds with built in dresser and desk and replaced it with a very handsome double sized sleigh bed. I don't know if it was too much effort to get in and out of bed when he was sleeping on the top bunk or what but now that he is closer to the ground he is in and out a dozen times. The nice thing is once he finally stays put and goes to sleep he is there for the night and you won't hear a peep from him until morning.

Fuzzy, oh Fuzzy. Fuzzy was doing really well since getting his new bed. He definitely stays in the new bed better but not with his eyes closed. Last night he was bright eyed and bushy tailed from 2:00am until (at least) 4:30 when I brought him to bed with me. I apparently passed out before him because this morning when I said "Oh, Fuzzy, Mommy is so tired. I need some sleep"
he said "you did sleep, I touched you".
"You poked me while I was sleeping?"
"Yep and you go *closes eyes and makes snoring sound*".
He didn't get up for daycare very easily this morning mind you. The daycare said he napped really well today...yeah I bet he did...

Seriously between Wee One refusing to go to sleep, Fuzzy's early morning rising and a very busy day at the Donut Shack I am one beat mama. I am seriously thinking about getting that little blue toddler race car bed the heck out of here and praying that things get better soon.

Dining With The Mischievious Misters

2010-01-04T21:42:00.008-05:00

Having dinner with my family is never dull. We rarely make it through a meal without incident. I'm not sure if it is life with boys or just life with kids but I don't remember acting like that when I was a kid.

We start the dinner off with Little Bear complaining that we made something for dinner that we know he doesn't like...even though he cleaned his plate and had seconds the last time we had that exact meal. Fuzzy will look in his bowl and exclaim that what's in it is "asgusting" which doesn't really mean anything because he will usually eat it anyway. Perhaps "asgusting" is just "Fuzzish" for "Yummy, that looks delicious"? Wee One will most often start his dinner off by loading his diaper. Bon Appetit!

After Little Bear and Fuzzy concede that is the only thing the are going to get for dinner and Wee One gets cleaned up we go through the picking/flicking/throwing/dropping and stashing of food. Little Bear picks, Fuzzy flicks and drops and Wee One picks, flicks, throws, drops and stashes. There is a small quarter sized hole in the side of Wee One's booster seat where the tray used to be attached and this is where most of his meal ends up...and his fork.

Little Bear ate his dinner pretty well tonight after tearing himself away from the "DIY" (Do It Yourself) Network. Fuzzy didn't really want to eat his "asgusting gina" (ass-gust-ing gi-na) at first. I'm pretty sure he meant "asgusting lasagna" because we were indeed eating lasagna and "gina" is what he calls "lady parts". Wee One refused to eat his and pushed his plate away. I'm not offended I'm sure he will gobble down a whole bowl the next time we have it. Some how we managed to escape any noodles on the floor for a change.

Fuzzy's latest dinner time act includes him standing on the side of his chair instead of sitting and passing (loud) gas and asking "did you hear that noise? huh? did you hear it?" I know what he has been eating for lunch lately and I don't know where all that gas is coming from but I hope he gets bored of his new game which sends his older brother into hysterics soon. Until then I guess I'm stuck dining with the Mischievous Misters "laugh at the gas" game and all.

The Greatest Gift Of All

2010-01-02T11:30:00.000-05:00

I must have been a really good girl this past year *polishes halo* because I received plenty of great gifts for Christmas. My favourite was a bracelet from Papa Bear (thank you hunny for taking the (not so) subtle hints. I also got a great gift certificate and lots of other exciting things but the greatest gift of all was the set of 12 "Smart Bra Clips" I received from my good buddy, Chesty McBreasty.

I'm sure you have seen the infomercials on TV for them. They are just little plastic clips that work to gather your bra straps in the middle of your back. The main purpose of them is to hide your straps when wearing a racer back tank top and work out wear but they do so much more.

The box says they:

-prevent bra straps from being visible from t-shirts, tank tops, dresses, work out wear, racer back, etc (I think I already covered that)

-give instant lift for a more revealing uplift look and perfect silhouette (uplift- oh yes)

-boost your cleavage for a firmer younger look (yepper they do that too)

-makes you look at least one cup size bigger (enough to make Papa Bear notice while I was wearing a sweater!)

-keeps unsightly bra straps where they belong (not so much if you are wearing a piece of clothing that wasn't mentioned above, like a scoop neck sweater)

-redistributes the weight from your chest and guides your shoulders back for more perfect posture (yes but I don't know that it is so much because of the clip or more the fact that they look so nice you just wanna stick the girls out there were everyone can see them)

-lifts and supports sagging breasts (3 breast fed babies later mine fit into this category but you wouldn't know it with the clips)

-also great for bikini tops for a sexier look (bikini? yeah, right)

-comes with 4 different colours to choose from matching your outfits (it's under your clothes so as long as you aren't wearing any mesh clothing -which you shouldn't be unless it's 80's night at the bar, the beige or clear ones should do just fine)

Overall I think these little clips deliver on most of their promises. I think Chesty said she only paid a few dollars for them. Not to bad for something that has given me back a few (boob) years and helped to make most of my clothes look better (from the front anyway).

Probably the gift I will talk about more in days to come than any other. Thank you Chesty, you have indeed given me the greatest gift of all.

The Bear Family in 2009

2010-01-01T12:00:00.003-05:00

Another year gone by. We say goodbye to 2009 and hello to 2010. Last night while waiting for that all important strike of midnight I started to think about the year gone by (which went by incredibly quickly). I thought about all the changes that have happened and all the things the Bear Family has done in a year or 12 months or 52 weeks or 365 days. A lot of stuff to think about.

Little Bear turned 6 in 2009. He started grade one and went to school all day everyday which was a big adjustment. He learned to read. He went on his first roller coaster. He dressed as a big banana for Halloween. He learned how to do simple things like pour milk like a pro and butter toast. He learned to skate and bowled for the first time.

Fuzzy turned 3 in 2009. He started to go to daycare more often and made new friends there. He started to talk far more than he did before. He learned how to dress himself pretty well and learned to sing songs and recite his ABC's. He went on his first real family vacation. He gave up his soother (finally). He learned to feed himself without wearing most of his dinner. He dressed as a beaver for Halloween. He learned to be a big brother. He learned how to jump and how to turn on the TV with the remote (not big feats for you or I but huge for Fuzzy).

Wee One turned 1 in 2009. He had lots of firsts this past year. First tooth, first words, first steps, gave his first kisses. He learned to escape his crib and therefore also learned to sleep in a "big boy" bed. He learned to feed himself. He learned that he owns Grandma and Grandpa. He dressed as a spider for Halloween. He went swimming for the first time and saw Santa for the first time. He also unfortunately had his first ambulance ride and first stitches in 2009 as well.

Papa Bear turned 30 in 2009. He bought a new truck. He bowled his first 300 game (357 to be exact). He went on his first family vacation as a Papa and not one of the kids. He dressed up for Halloween for the first time since being a kid (at my insistence). He learned how to take the ribbing he gets in a lot of my blogs with a smile. He survived another year with my insanity! I think he learned to let go a little and be a little silly sometimes (seriousness causes wrinkles).

I turned 28 in 2009 (and feel 30 breathing down my neck everyday). I took all 3 of my kids on a true family vacation (and it was great). I went back to work outside of a management role for the first time in several years. I enjoyed plenty of awesome craziness with the Crazy Mama Society. I participated in the MS Walk with the Crazy Mamas and raised $1000 for the cause. I learned better ways to deal with some things that were an issue before and I started to blog.

In 2009 we welcomed another member to our family, Gunner our Golden Retriever. He's a moron but we love him just the same.

I watched my boys grow this year in ways that leave me in awe. We may not have accomplished huge things this year but we did do a lot for a family of Bears.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-12-31T19:00:00.003-05:00

It's that time of year again when people make New Year's resolutions (that most will not uphold for longer than a couple of weeks). I like to make resolutions but at the same time I also like to keep it real.

I should be resolving to lose 10-15 pounds or giving up my (several) daily Iced Cappuccinos bbbuuuuttt I won't because the chances of me following through are about the same as me marrying an Arabian Prince and sailing away on a magic carpet -not going to happen.

In the past I have resolved to things like stop biting my nails, a disgusting little habit that I picked up at a young age and I associated with stress. Imagine the coincidence that the year I resolved to quit that habit I also got rid of a major source of stress -my ex-husband and successful stuck to my resolution. Last year I resolved to do more for charity. I'm pleased to report that this year along side the Crazy Mamas we collected $1000 in donations to the MS Society of Canada and participated in their MS Walk not to mention the bags and bags of clothes and toys that (finally) left my house and went to the Salvation Army.

This year I plan to make a resolution as well and am narrowing down the list of attainable goals:

1. Lose 5 pounds? Sure I can do that...I think.

2. Keep the Magic Pumpkin clean (on the inside, the outside is a lost cause on a dirt road)? Let's be real, I'm not likely going to be able to keep that one for more than a couple of months. I have 3 kids.

3. Get my family back on a night time routine that includes baths for the boys...every night -one should not have to smell their child to determine whether or not they are due for a bath (it's not that bad but close)?

4. De-clutter my house! Needs to be done in a serious way.

I think it will be number 3 or 4...or both. Either way I plan to stick to my New Year's resolution unlike those people resolving to get into shape or quit smoking or lose 25 pounds or whatever other less attainable thing only a small percentage of them will actually succeed at.

Happy New Year and good luck in 2010!

*Post your New Year's resolutions in the comment section. I'm dying to hear what you plan to resolve this year :).

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!

2009-12-30T23:48:00.004-05:00

I love snow. Maybe my northern blood runs deep, I don't know but I truly love the fluffy stuff. Mind you I live on a farm and we don't shovel snow, we plow it, that helps. I don't work outside in it so that isn't an issue for me. In fact snow actually helps business at the Donut Shack. There is nothing like a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate on a snowy day.

I love just about everything about snow. I like the way it looks, the way it feels, the way it crunches, the way it covers all the yucky leaves in my flowerbeds left over from the fall, the way it blows in little swirls, the way it drifts, and if my memory serves me right I do remember from my younger years I like the way it tastes (now I know that there is a good chance of ingesting dog urine or something else nasty with a mouth full of chilly snow, a chance I'm not willing to take with 2 dogs in the yard).

I don't even mind driving in the snow as long as it isn't white out conditions. I would rather drive in snow than rain actually. I'm not afraid to take my time when needed. I have an auto start on my magic pumpkin so I rarely have to sweep snow from my windshield and my vehicle is not to bad to drive on the slippery roads.

The only things I don't like about snow are that is slows down the school bus that picks up Little Bear in the morning which in turn slows me down to drop Fuzzy off at daycare and makes it a close call for me to get to work on time and the dirty mess the salt on the roads makes of my magic pumpkin (not really the snow that does that so I guess that isn't really something I don't like about snow).

I would much rather have months of snowy weather than a week of super hot summery weather. I love snow so all you anti-snow bellyachers suck it up and let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Laugh It Up

2009-12-29T21:55:00.003-05:00

Lately I have found myself wanting to blog but not having anything to write that other people will want to read about. At first I thought maybe I was suffering from "Creativity Constipation" again but that wasn't it. I had lots I wanted to say but most of it would have been gloomy and depressing and that is NOT what this blog is about.

I have now realized that with all kinds of stupid serious stuff going on around me I have forgotten to laugh at life. A long time ago I decided that when life gets complicated a person can either laugh about it or cry about it. I choose laugh. Laugh till my sides hurt. Laugh until I forget that I was close to crying.

What fun is life if you can't take a crappy situation and find the humor in it? So far in my life I have found the humor in unplanned pregnancy (unplanned but never unwanted), having a "Monster in Law", job stress, child rearing woes, divorce, single parenting, having to sell my home, and so many other life experiences that could have broken me if I let them.

I'm not the only one that benefits from being able to laugh at the crappy stuff. When I look for and find the humor in situations and then share it with my friends, family and readers it can help them to find humor in their serious stuff.

A favourite saying is: when life hands you lemons there are 2 kinds of people -those that make lemonade and those that cry about having lemons. Time to build a new stand because I'm going to make a whole lot of lemonade.

Time to get back where I want to be. From here on out I, SlightlyInsaneStacey vow to climb back on the wagon and laugh it up.

Pretty as a Picture

2009-12-23T12:54:00.007-05:00

Like most proud Mamas I enjoy dressing my 4 men up in their fancy digs for Christmas pictures. This year I decided just to skip it. Not because I wanted to by any means but because my family looks like they have survived a car accident after a plane crash.

It's not unusual for one of my kids to bang their head or something the day before pictures but usually a little touch up of the photos or a Santa hat are easy fixes. This year there is no easy fix.

Until yesterday when I finally just took Little Bear to Walmart for a haircut he was walking around looking like Benji the Shaggy Dog. Our hairdresser broke her arm before his last regular haircut but tried her best. -Her best is not HIS best look. No big deal, had I followed through on family pictures I would have taken him for his expensive discount haircut sooner.

When I picked Fuzzy up from daycare the week before last he was sporting carpet burn from the end of his nose, between his eyes, to his hairline. (Due to the fact that I have never had a problem with my daycare and they have always been really great I did not feel the need to have a melt down about them not providing the safest care for my child. Things happen, this happened. He will live). The carpet burn went from a bright red group of patches to a lovely dark scar between his eyes. Just as the carpet burn marks were beginning to fade another facial blemish took it's place. Little Bear tells the story like this: "I was reading a book (one of Wee Ones board books) and I got so excited that I 'accidentally' threw the book and it hit Fuzzy in the eye". Now Fuzzy has a black eye...

I have never had a cold sore in my whole entire life, ever. Last week my face was completely taken over by one. Not only did I get an ugly little sore but I looked like I lost a heavy weight bout and sported a fat lip that extended up into my right cheek. Gross and not very picturesque. My eyebrows are also in serious need of a waxing.

The scariest of all these issues is the reason Wee One will not be getting his Christmas pictures taken this year. I got a call on Sunday at work from Papa Bear saying only that I needed to meet him at the hospital, that Wee One had hit his head and he had called an ambulance. -Not really enough information to stop a Mama from losing it. Not knowing what the situation was or if Wee One was even conscious I headed to the hospital to wait for the ambulance...which took forever and provided me with lots of time to imagine the worst. When my little peanut was finally unloaded from an ambulance laying strapped to a backboard and wearing a neck brace it was easy to see why we were there. Between Wee One's eyes was a gaping hole. He had been running around and fell and hit his face on one of the only two stairs in our house. The amount of blood that resulted was what prompted Papa Bear to call the ambulance. Only three stitches and some glue to repair the wound but still not something I want to repeat. Though with three crazy boys I'm sure this was not our last experience with stitches.

Over all our family portrait was likely to look more like the cast from The Night of the Living Dead. I think I will wait until we are all looking as pretty as a picture and then just stick some Santa hats on everyone and no one will be the wiser.

Wordless Wednesday 5

2009-12-09T23:45:00.000-05:00

Yeah I know I missed one...

H1N1ing The Bear Family

2009-12-08T22:51:00.003-05:00

After much debate, reading and information gathering I made the decision that the Bear family should get the H1N1 vaccine.

I had to decide how we would go about all 5 of us getting our vaccine. Should I take the 2 youngest by myself during the day and then go back with Papa Bear and Little Bear after school or should I just brave it and load the Magic Pumpkin with all 5 of us and get it done in 1 trip. The thoughts of the long lines and 3 small kids resulted in all 5 of us going together.

The line waiting started out not too bad...and then my kids got ants in their pants... Wee One wanted nothing more than to free himself from Papa Bear's arms and run. Fuzzy felt the need to touch EVERYTHING in the church that held the clinic. Nativity scenes, Christmas trees and a wall of pamphlets. Nothing was off limits to him. It's a good thing we got vaccinated against H1N1 because I'm sure he picked something else up by touching all available germ coated surfaces and then doing what he spends half his day doing - picking his nose. Little Bear was just happy to have an audience and insisted on asking a string of difficult to answer questions at the top of his lungs to see me squirm trying to come up with answers that the room full of people were waiting for.

Thankfully the line moved fairly quickly. The next step was to fill out paperwork for each of us while the kids waited "patiently". After completing the papers we got into another line that also moved pretty well. Little Bear was pretty worried about getting a shot and was beginning to show it. When asked who was going to go first Little Bear was quick to say not him. Fuzzy hopped up on the chair like a champ and announced that he wanted to go first. Poor little booger had no idea what he was first for.

None of my children are really any problem when they get their shots but it still surprised me how well Fuzzy took his. Not a sound or a flinch. Nothing. Fuzzy is my new hero. I HATE needles but I had my brave face on for my boys. No way was I going to get Little Bear in that chair if I didn't pretend it was no big deal. After Fuzzy and I were done Little Bear decided it didn't look so bad and he was ready for his turn. He let out a little scream and a tear came to his eye and then he was fine. I think Wee One was more pissed off with being held still when he wanted to go rather than upset about the shot. Papa Bear looked a little pale and apparently was more worked up about the shot than he was letting on too because the nurse had to tell him to relax or it was going to hurt more.

All in all the 15 minutes they make you wait before leaving after your shot was far worse than the actual vaccine. The kids just wanted to leave or eat the manhandled snacks that were available to everyone and their uncle. 15 minutes has rarely seemed so long. Finally we were released. All in all not too bad.

Other than some pretty freaking noticeable pain in both Papa Bear and my own arm everyone did well and it seems we have escaped any serious reactions. The Bear family has successfully been H1N1ed

Wordless Wednesday 5

2009-11-25T23:59:00.000-05:00

I wish I could learn to "zip it" more often...

Unfortunately this is all I have for you guys in a week. A lot of stuff going on that is preventing me from posting much.

Wordless Wednesday 4

2009-11-18T23:57:00.003-05:00

Freaking love it!

*Those are urinals if you didn't catch that :)

Is It Really About A Button?

2009-11-16T13:58:00.005-05:00

Why do some people get so worked up and pissed off over the most trivial of things? Why waste the energy ranting and raving about something silly. If it doesn't effect your life in a major (or even a minor) way why bother giving it the kind of attention that only ends up making you look like a moron?

Yesterday X has a complete hissy fit over a missing button (which actually turned out to be a snap) on Little Bear's jeans that I packed for him for his overnight visit. A complete freak out where he attacked my character, my parenting skills and even my relationship (or lack of) with my family. I was glad to see that after almost 3 years of us being apart he hasn't lost any of his...."charm".

He was beyond pissed off over something so silly. Did I know that the pants were missing a snap? Yes, yes I did (I was a little behind in my laundry and I don't send school clothes to come back ripped or stained) and to make up for the missing snap I provided a belt and even looped it through the jeans to make sure it wasn't missed. Also, X has access to a washer and dryer and Little Bear went to his father's in a pair of pants with snap fully intact. There was absolutely no reason for the melt down.

So after a string of insults and name calling which I will admit to participating in (wrong? Sure but sometimes when someone is just being that ridiculous it is fun to play along.) I finally stopped answering back to his texts and Facebook messages and ultimately ending the game for both of us. In the end, Little Bear's jeans were still missing a snap and X had done a pretty good job of reminding me why I spent all that money on a divorce and made an ass of himself publicly on my Facebook profile.

When X came to drop the boys off later in the evening he was completely cool. As if the morning exchange hadn't happened. Like a 3 year old who had finished his temper tantrum and moved on.

This whole situation made me stop and think, is it really about a button or is there a bigger deep seeded issue there. Can someone really allow themselves to get that worked into a tither over a freaking button?

41 More Days...

2009-11-14T13:39:00.005-05:00

There are 41 more days until that big day...Christmas. By this time last year I had all my Christmas shopping done and was laughing at the poor suckers that had to deal with the crowded stores and long lines at cash registers. This year I have barely started. Last year I would have been bugging Papa Bear to help me put up the Christmas tree and string the outdoor lights. This year I am just not feeling the Christmas spirit yet.

Maybe it has to do with the 60 degree weather we are having in the middle of November or the lack of funds in my bank account to buy presents with that is causing me to drag my butt. Maybe the pumpkins still sitting on the front porch or the leaves still on the trees that are holding me up.

I have tuned the radio in the magic pumpkin to the station that plays nothing but Christmas music starting in early November and started making a list of who I need to buy for and some ideas of what to buy but still not feeling it. I have started a count down with the boys and talked to Fuzzy about Santa and where he lives and what he is doing but that isn't helping either.

Usually I am a Christmas nut. I am known to drive people nuts singing Christmas songs at work or forcing passengers in the magic pumpkin to listen to and sing along with the seasonal tunes.

This year I just feel kind of...well bah humbugish. I hope the spirit finds me soon. Maybe if we were to get a whole mess of snow dumped on us that would be the ticket. Here's to hoping...

Wordless Wednesday 3

2009-11-11T11:00:00.000-05:00

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, Remember

5000!

2009-11-10T22:39:00.003-05:00

5000 hits on this blog since June 8th, 2009. Thank you :)

Sleep Deprivation via 3 Year Old

2009-11-10T10:07:00.006-05:00

I am suffering from a case of sleep deprivation via 3 year old. I am slowly being sucked of all rest by my 3 year old, Fuzzy. For almost 2 weeks now he has developed a habit that is seriously messing with my much needed beauty sleep. He has been getting up, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 3:30 in the morning ready to start his day.

The 3:30 a.m. wake up call usually comes in the form of him shouting from his room for Papa Bear or I at the top of his lungs which accomplishes 2 things - startling us from slumber and usually waking up Wee One. I know you're thinking, big deal, go in, comfort him and he will go back to sleep...WRONG!

When I stumble to his room (which requires me to pass through the kitchen and past the table and other likely toe stubbing obstacles) and open the door he is almost always sitting in his bed with the light on looking much like most people do at 9 a.m. He looks well rested and ready to go and requesting a toy that he can't reach.

I have approached this situation from all angles. I have tried to get him to lay back down and stay with him hoping for him to go back to sleep. I end up in some contorted position in his toddler sized race car bed, half asleep myself, being poked in the nose or having my eyelids forced open by his tiny fingers. This results in some serious back/leg/neck/shoulder pain and a little boy who not only is wide awake but having a good time at my expense.

I have tried tough love and told him point blank that it is time for bed and I am not coming into his room again. This only makes him cry (gradually getting louder and louder), makes me feel like worlds worst mama and doesn't get either of us any closer to getting back to sleep.

I have tried a few other things like giving him a book or a stuffed animal or something to do until he (in theory) falls back to sleep. This just sets me up for a series of requests for several different items until I get mad or the alarm clock goes off.

The only solution, which isn't really a solution but me giving in is when Papa Bear has to leave for work at 2:30 a.m, filling his spot in the bed with Fuzzy. For some reason there is a difference between his bed and mine. There is no nose poking or eyelid raising in my bed. He just lays there and either falls asleep or is at least quiet and still enough for me to.

Though the last option works for me to get some sleep it is not at all the solution I am looking for. I am anti-kid-in-the-bed. I am getting some sleep but not at all quality sleep and waking constantly. Fuzzy uses up as much or more of our queen sized the bed than Papa Bear. He tosses and turns and likes my pillow better than his own or Papa Bear's.

I really hope this is just a phase because it is really getting old and I am seriously in need of more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep. At the rate we're going, if this continues the zombification of Mama will be complete by the end of November.

* Just a note that blogging while sleep deprived results in an extra long proof reading and spell checking process...zzz...

Wordless Wednesday 2

2009-11-04T19:43:00.002-05:00

I went shopping today (only 4 days after Halloween) and found that someone went and "Christmasfied" everything already. Tis SORTA the season...

Trick or Treat

2009-10-31T23:00:00.005-04:00

BOO! Tis Halloween. One of the most fun days of the year. This year I had three of my stinkers for the occasion. (Last year the two oldest boys spent Halloween with X). I dressed Wee One as the cutest little spider you have ever seen. Fuzzy was a beaver, fully equipped with big beaverish tail and bucked teeth. I thought Little Bear, who is now 6.5 would want to be Spider Man or a Transformer or something like that but no, he choose to be a giant banana. OK son as you wish. I tried really hard to get Papa Bear to dress up as a cow and I would be a milk maid (appropriate since Papa Bear is a milkman) but no go. Little by little I am "helping" Papa Bear to be a little less serious but that was just too big a step this year. I did however talk him into putting on his coveralls and boots to match me in my overalls, rubber boots, plaid shirt, pigtails and straw hat to be a farmer and his wife. (I will work on the cow thing for next year).

I grew up in town where we trick or treated by going door to door collecting candy from each house in our neighbourhood so that at the end of the night we were as tired as our treat bags were full...VERY. We live in the country now and country people trick or treat differently. Country folk DRIVE door to door and though they don't get much exercise or go to half as many houses they still end up with as much booty. In the country you know all the people who's door you knock on. They are expecting you and instead of dropping a couple of chocolate bars in your bag and sending you on your way they drop a meal in your bag.

In town you were lucky to get a couple of cans of pop and a few full size chocolate bars mixed in with your millions of tiny chocolate bars and miniature bags of chips. In the country you get cartons of milk, juice boxes, cookies, bags made up with fruit snacks and crackers and other more healthy goodies.

We went to nine houses in total. Most in the country and a few in town. We still managed to come home with three well stocked bags of goodies. Papa Bear and I being such good parents, took care of a good portion of the chocolate goodies after the boys went to bed as to preserve their dental health or course.

All in all I think country trick or treating was the best bet this year. It was really cold out so it was kind of nice to only be out from the van to the house and back again. I think all three boys had fun even though I'm pretty sure Wee One didn't have a clue what was going on or why we made him wear such funny clothes. I'm looking forward to next year already.

Edited to add (and I don't know how I forgot this part), that I'm pretty sure Papa Bear had a good time too especially since one of our neighbours who just happens to be pretty frigging hot for her age, answered the door soaking wet in only a towel fresh out of the shower. I guess you could say that was Papa Bears "treat". Happy Halloween Papa Bear and Happy Halloween to you too!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-10-28T11:59:00.001-04:00

So I've decided to jump on the Wordless Wednesday bandwagon. At least that way even if I don't blog for a couple of days you will at least get a new picture to look at on Wednesdays. Looking at the clock I better move it to make it Wordless Wednesday instead of Thursday.

Here's what I did today:

OK, so maybe not totally "wordless" Wednesday because truthfully I just have too many words to just shut up :)

Park It

2009-10-27T23:10:00.003-04:00

Parking. I am not a perfect parker by any means but what the heck are other people doing?

First off, those yellow lines painted all over the asphalt are not there just as decoration. You are actually supposed to park your vehicle in between them. Not on them or across them but in between them. All vehicles fit between them so don't even use the excuse of driving a larger vehicle that doesn't fit because it does indeed fit you are just a twit.

I just love those people who park diagonally across two spots (also known as the Dual Space Dingaling) so no one can park near them and accidentally put a door ding in precious door panel or scratch your paint - you're driving a 1982 AMC Concord with the bumper half hanging off and baby crap brown interior. A door ding is the least of your worries. (Just a note, I never parked that way when I drove that exact vehicle).These people are especially annoying during the Christmas rush when it is already difficult to find a spot without this dingalings using up two spots. (I used to be married to one of these such dingalings).

Another person I "adore" is the person that parks far too close on one side (also known as the Line Rider). It's cool I will just unload myself and my three kids through the six inch crevice you have left me between our vehicles. I rather enjoyed buffing the side of your car with my right butt cheek. I hope in return you enjoyed the small sized hand/tongue prints also on the side of your car you moron.

The ones that park too far forward in a space (the Depth Perceptionally Impaired) are fun too. I have two options with this one. I can either skip parking across from you and opt for the space ten miles further from the store entrance (oh how I love trying to keep all of my children wrangled while we walk for ten extra minutes from the far beyond) or I can park across from you and leave the butt end of my magic pumpkin (orange Grand Caravan) sticking out in the aisle and risk parking a van and coming back to a compact. Thank you for leaving me choices.

It's not just parking lot parkers that are idiots. Parkade parkers have left me hanging (literally) on the side of the parkade cement wall (thanks for the little bump from behind, that was nice of you) and street side parallel parkers have left me holding up traffic while they inch in, and then back out, and in again, and out, and in again to a space that they clearly don't fit in or they just haven't a clue how to parallel park to begin with and should therefor carry on to a parking lot.

If you can't park in one single paring space, between the lines, leaving space for your neighbour to enter and exit their vehicle, perhaps you should just walk and save others the headache of having to deal with the results of your inadequate parking skills.

Home Party Overload :S

2009-10-24T00:05:00.003-04:00

I like home parties. You know the little parties that tend to be mostly a girl thing where we get together at somebody's house, a product consultant gives a little presentation or demonstration of their products and the rest of us are supposed to buy stuff so the hostess can earn free stuff or discounts all the while socializing, eating fattening goodies and drinking wine. I like these parties but lately it has been home party overload.

In less than three months I have been to a Fantasia party (adult umm..toys), a Passions party (more adult toys - the Crazy Mamas really are a bit crazy), two Stampin Up (card making stamps), a Latasia party (jewelery) and my favorite a She She party (purses and accessories). That is a bit much I think.

I really enjoy the social part of these shindigs. I like the conversation and food and just getting together (usually with the Crazy Mamas plus a few). It's the part where I'm expected to make a purchase that is the trouble. Especially if you aren't a fan of the product or with that many parties close together, run out of "extra" cash.

The Fantasia and Passions parties are a fun time but really there is only so much I can purchase before Papa Bear will start to worry he isn't doing his job (no worries ;)). Stampin Up products are great and fun to use. Chesty McBreasty and I have big plans to make all our own Christmas cards this year but we should probably get started on that before...well..Christmas! The Latasia party wasn't really my thing. In my opinion it was overpriced costume jewelery. If I'm going to spend much money on jewelery it's going to be on quality pieces. She She parties could get me into trouble. Who doesn't need another purse? or wallet? or scarf? Super cute bags for reasonable prices.

I have one more She She party to go to next month and then I am taking a hiatus from home parties. So if you were going to send me an invite for any such parties save your time...I'm not going! I don't need anymore lotions (etc.), stamps, jewelery or purses...OK maybe another purse.

Cleaning out the Bear Cave

2009-10-12T20:37:00.002-04:00

Little Bear and Fuzzy are gone on a trip to Montreal with X for five days and will be returning tomorrow. For about two weeks prior to their departure I have been trying to get Little Bear to clean up the disaster formerly known as his bedroom. I have always helped him in the past but ended up doing most of the cleaning myself and decided that at age six (and a half as he so proudly proclaims) it was time for him to do the majority himself. After all I'm not the one that gets to play in there and make forts and build "inventions". Little Bear has proved to be far more stubborn than I ever thought possible and has been holding his ground on NOT cleaning the room.

He has not had TV privileges since the two week dispute started, not that he really cares because he doesn't really watch all that much TV. He has started a bit and then gotten sidetracked with a drawing project or such which has prevented him from making much progress. Throughout the two weeks I have threatened that if he didn't clean up the room before he went to Montreal with his father I was going to clean the room while he was gone and there wouldn't be nearly as much stuff in there to make a mess when I was done. I told him that I was going to get rid of a lot of stuff since he claims that things don't have a place. I am a person who likes to stick to their word and so that was my intention.

This giant task was on my Saturday Itinerary but was....ummm....held up (by my procrastination and lack of motivation) so with the boys returning tomorrow I had no choice but to tackle the job tonight after dinner. What a task it was. I'm pretty sure the kid was saving every bit of paper he has ever wrote a single letter or digit on. Every school paper, greeting card, instruction sheet, clothing tag, anything that had a picture or writing on it was scattered around the room. He had everything from baby toys to leftover hardware to a collection of old hardballs and a box of tissue paper and batteries. You name it, it was in that mess.

Two hours later and I had found the source of that strange smell, two pairs of "missing" underwear, the "misplaced" portable DVD player (that is my early morning salvation when Little Bear takes it into Fuzzy's room and they watch a DVD at seven o'clock in the morning instead of jumping on my bed) and about a dozen socks (some clean, some dirty, hardly any of them matching). Two garbage bags of trash and a large rubbermaid tub of "sell it or donate it" stuff. Three dustpan loads of dirt and tiny junk and a pile of "too small" clothes. Two hours later and I am done!

From here on out I do not want to hear that things don't have a place because if it didn't have a place it found a place in one of those garbage bags. There are now a series of plastic containers to be labeled. One for dinky cars, one for small tractors, one for his collection of Lightning McQueen cars, two for trains and one of small plastic animals. There is a container for crayons and markers and a SMALL box of school paper that he might want to hang on to for a while. There are no dirty clothes on the floor and the spring horse whose head fell off is now fully repaired.

The tote of "sell it or donate it" stuff will be up to Little Bear. He can sell it and use the money as he likes (to save or spend on something like a new video game-that doesn't take up much room) or he can donate it to the kids that don't have much or both. Usually he picks a few to sell and a donates the rest. Either way it is leaving my house.

I'm now anticipating Little Bear's reaction tomorrow. It will either be one of horror for all the things that are now gone or glee for not having to clean up the room himself and having a nice clean room. Horror or glee, the Bear cave has been conquered and I am a much happier mama though he may be a sad bear.

Saturday Itinerary

2009-10-10T13:30:00.004-04:00

Today was supposed to be a day of great accomplishments. Well at least on the housework front anyway. Today's itinerary was supposed to consist of tackling the mountain of laundry (that actually looks more like an exploded volcano), cleaning out the boys' dressers (which contain almost as many summer and "too small" clothes as they do wearable clothes), washing the kitchen floor (oh how I wish I just had an inside dog that would lick messes up and give the illusion of clean) and conquer the disaster that I'm sure when we moved into Papa Bear's house was Little Bear's bedroom but is now unrecognizable.

Sounds like a pretty good plan huh? Laundry is always a task for days off. It seems I never see the bottom of the hamper. The boys' dressers are overflowing but not with anything they can actually wear so that needs to be addressed. The kitchen floor has been in dire need of a scrubbing for sometime but with three little monkeys constantly swarming through that particular room it makes it next to impossible. Little Bear's room is something that is well overdue and is something I really have to have completed before he and Fuzzy return from their trip to Montreal with X on Tuesday night.

With all these items on the list to be completed as well as a page long grocery list you would think I would have been up bright and early this morning and headed right to work. That plan was shot to crap when Wee One slept until almost 9:30 this morning - something that NEVER happens and I didn't want to waste by jumping up out of my nice cozy bed to clean.

It is now 1:45 in the afternoon and so far today I have managed to have a shower (but not do my hair), get dressed (but yet to put on deodorant), and eat lunch (bacon, which I vowed I wasn't going to eat nearly as much of). I have also played several games of Bejeweled on Facebook (the damn makers of that application have revamped the game and therefore made it that much more appealing-and time wasting than it already was). The only other thing I have done today so far is stumble across a Facebook application called NetworkedBlogs on Facebook where I found several interesting blogs that I then wasted more time reading and commenting on.

At the rate I'm going I will be lucky to do one complete load of laundry, SWEEP the kitchen floor and push the mess that is spilling out of Little Bear's room back inside so I can close the door and forget about it for today.

Maybe tomorrow I will find the motivation I am lacking today....but I doubt it.

Freak Behind The Wheel

2009-09-30T23:54:00.002-04:00

I don't like to admit to a lot of weaknesses. I know I have them I just like others to know I do. One of my biggest weaknesses is driving in cities.

I hate it. I turn into a freak. I get beyond nervous. Today I had to take Little Bear to an appointment in a city that I don't know all that well. I know where important places are like the mall and Wendy's are but I don't know how to get to the hospital or the place I was headed today.

I asked Papa Bear to drive but he didn't really want to take all three boys to the appointment. I wish he would have just granted my request and spared us both unleashing my inner freak.

It didn't help that I was told the wrong place first which was hard enough for me to find..even with Papa Bear on speaker phone to help navigate. The women behind the desk in the wrong place was not really very helpful in giving me directions either. She was just like "go to the lights at the corner whatever and whatever than make a left onto that street and go down and make a right onto another street and the place is on the corner of M street and M street". Oh, OK. Yeah still didn't have a clue where I was going.

I got back in the van and put Papa Bear back on speaker phone all the while starting to get quite wound up. There was construction everywhere because this is not difficult enough. I was breathing...well I think I was breathing...irregularly, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. My heart was pounding, my chest hurt, and my stomach was doing barrel rolls.

I was so glad that Little Bear was wearing a pair of headphones and watching a DVD in the far back seat so he didn't have a clue that he was a passenger on a crazy train.

I followed Papa Bear's directions until I got to the final intersection where the building was supposed to be on the corner. Two buildings in is NOT the corner. How can you say the building is on the corner when there is a variety store and a dry cleaner on the corner, next door to the building that everyone tells you is on the corner? It's not on the freaking corner! At least I finally got to my destination. Now I just needed to puke and everything would be good again.

What the heck is wrong with me? Why can't I just hope in the car and go? Whenever I have to go somewhere new I always Mapquest it ahead of time and plan out my route or if possible get someone else to drive me there so I have an idea of where I'm headed. I didn't do that today because I thought Papa Bear would give in and just drive me and that proved to be a mistake. I'm glad he made me do it on my own but it was still hell.

Some people are afraid of spiders or heights or things like that. I'm afraid of traffic. I've never been in an accident and I beetle around Stinkburg easily but in high traffic areas I am definitely a freak behind the wheel.

Creativity Constipation

2009-09-29T14:32:00.003-04:00

I am suffering from some serious writer's block or 'creativity constipation' as I call it. I am finding it hard lately to put my adventures (and misadventures) into words to share and humor my readers. I'm less that pleased with my last few entries and apologize for their mediocracy.

It's not at all that I don't want to write because I LOVE to write. I love to hear other peoples reactions (both positive and negative) to what I write. I enjoy reading the comments and receiving the messages asking for the next post. I just seem to have lost my MOJO.

At first I thought I just needed some more excitement in my life. I realized quickly this was not the case. I just haven't been able to write down that excitement in a way that provides a giggle for others which really is the purpose of the blog. I think of catchy titles for my adventures and maybe a few anecdotes to share but not enough to fill an entry.

Maybe my "bigger" thinking is blocking my creative juices. I've been pondering a lot of things lately, like writing a book. A book I'm sure will take me fifteen years to write, that I will probably have to self publish and that only the Crazy Mamas and Papa Bear will buy (and probably half of them will read). I've been thinking a lot about putting some sort of stand up act together. Sometimes the things I'm trying to communicate with readers is something that is far more effective if told in person (complete with facial expressions and bad impressions).

Maybe it is other things that are over running my mind that is making it hard for me to come up with anything worthy of my readers time. I could write ten blog entries on the happenings at the Donut Shack but I am bound by in house policies and such. I could blog about my family ties that choke but then I just upset my father and risk being misinterpreted as some of the things my mother claims I am. I have some humorous takes on some hot topics but leave them written but unpublished to spare the feelings of some that are over sensitive.

Someone asked me the other day if I was going to continue writing to blog. I really want to and I am hoping my creative constipation can be cured with a dose of mental Pepto Bismol but for now I wait for things to flow easily again.

Scavenger Hunting From A-Z

2009-09-22T23:29:00.002-04:00

The Crazy Mama Society held a scavenger hunt this past weekend. It was the third photo documented scavenger hunt we have held. We have so much fun during these events. There were four teams originally but unfortunately the fourth team was unable to hunt so there were just three. My team consisted of Chesty McBreasty, Sweet and Innocent (and her two week old, Mack) and myself.

Usually we have a list of about fifteen things to hunt for such as, pumping a stranger's gas or making a questionable purchase (I totally took that category last time with a cucumber and a tub of vasoline). This time some genius (OK, it was me) decided we should just hunt for the alphabet from A-Z. I don't know what I was thinking because this was the longest scavenger hunt EVER. Mind you we did have lunch and did a little shopping but it took our team almost three and a half hours to hunt.

A-Z is pretty broad. You would think this would make it easy but it seemed to be quite the opposite. You don't want to do the first thing that comes to mind because originality really matters and you don't want to get to complex because there just wasn't really that much time. For A we went with Chesty's bottom next to her husband's face for "a couple of A$$HOLES". B for "BADGIRLS with BANANAS" - we'll leave that one to the imagination. C for "CONDOMS" - actually turned out to be one of the most boring. D was for "DOGGY DO DO" - this required me to risk someone thinking they were funny and shoving my face into the pile of dog crap that I was pretending to lick". We used a "free head EXAM" sign for E. F was Sweet and Innocent giving the finger because, well that is so not her and it took us quite a few tries to get her to do it without a cute smile on her face. G was "GIRLY GHOSTS" which was Chesty and I with pink sheets over our heads, spooky. H was a very convincing "HICKEY" that Chesty painted onto Sweet and Innocent's neck with her Mary Kay. For I, I held boxes of Imodium diarrhea remedy while holding my stomach and "the backdoor". J was my attempt at "JUMPING rope" - It's been a while. Our K was weak and we settled for a picture in front of KFC. Lucky Charms and Lollipops for L. I'm not so proud that there is now a picture of me sitting on the toilet for "being PEEPED at while PEEING on the POTTY" for P. Q-tips in our nostrils, ears and mouth for Q. Our R was also weak and we used a big marble wheel in a park known as the Rotary Wheel. S was for "SOMBRERO" - according to Sweet and Innocent that is what Chinese people wear when they work in rice fields. Sorry Sweetie but you are thinking the wrong side of the world. Needless to say we have a picture of Sweet and Innocent doing an impression of a Chinese person wearing a Mexican sombrero. T was a picture of me wearing a pretty gross looking pair of fake teeth holding a tube of TOTAL TOOTHPASTE. For U I put on a pair of really ugly underwear from the dollarstore and sat under an umbrella. VIBRATOR for V. We made Chesty do this one because...frankly neither Sweet and Innocent or I would touch it. W was for "WORMS" that Chesty and I pretended to feed each other. X was the railroad crossing X which I'm sure half the town that passed Sweet and Innocent posing with X were wondering what the heck she was doing. Y was a YARD SALE which we even purchased from and finally Z was a picture consisting of a ZIPPER and a kielbasa.

For some of our pictures we blew the competition out of the water for others we fell short to things like "KIDNAPPED" for which one team tied up and duct taped the mouth of one of their members and threw her in a trunk or another team that "CHOKED (pretended of course) a CHICKEN". All in all it was a ton of fun and the 78 pictures are a riot to browse through and what better way to end a fun day like that? With good friends getting together for dinner and a birthday cake shaped like a tube of K-Y Jelly.

Babysitting Baby McBreasty

2009-09-16T23:26:00.002-04:00

My good friend Chesty McBreasty found herself in a bit of a pickle yesterday. She had an interview for an opportunity at work, a very sick husband and a (almost) three year old that needed someplace to hang out for a while. Being the good friend that I am I said it was no problem for me to take him for a couple of hours so she could go to her interview. After all Easton is the same age as Fuzzy and they like to play together and I like little Easton because quite frankly he is hilarious. I have three boys anyways so this would be a piece of cake with Little Bear gone to school it would be the same difference.

Since I was going to have Easton through lunch, I was going to have to feed him. Normally it would be no big deal to feed an extra kid except that Easton is practically allergic to himself but mainly milk and any and all milk products, bi-products, and ingredients. Just about anything that looks like, sounds like, smells like, reminds you of, milk (did you know there is milk in bologna?) he can not have. My solution to this was to ask Chesty the only really important question, "What can he eat from the McDonalds menu?"

Fuzzy, Wee One and I picked Easton up from his school readiness program just before lunch and headed for the drive thru at "Rotten Ronny's" (aka McDonalds). When we got home I set the three boys up with their "nutritious" lunch. Only minutes after starting lunch Easton called me over "Steecy, I pee in your chair" he said in his oddly deep voice. Stupid, stupid me. I forgot that Easton is much farther along in the whole potty training thing then we are with Fuzzy and he wears underwear but needs to be reminded and I (the person who was supposed to do the reminding) dropped the ball on this one and now I had a little boy with urine dripping from the hem of his jeans. At least I have an unending supply of boys clothes at my disposal.

After my two boys devoured their lunch and Easton nibbled a couple of fries and drank his juice (which should have been a red flag since Easton is probably the heaviest three year old I have ever lifted out of a carseat and therefore is obviously a better eater) we got our shoes on to go outside to play on the climber in the backyard. "Steecy, dose fretch fries hert my tummy" Easton told me.
"Are you ok? Do you want to stay in?"
"No I play outside with Fuzzy".
No sooner did we get outside and everyone was busy with their trucks and tractors and Easton exclaimed, "Steecy, I hava go poop!"
I grabbed him in a football hold and rushed him like a player heading for the goal line to the house. The whole time with him grunting to hold it in.

I wiped his butt after what looked (and sounded) like an awfully loose bowel movement (always a strange thing to do with someone else's child) and we headed back outside. We just got back to the climber when Easton hollered again, "Steecy, I hava go poop again!"
With him under my arm I ran for the house again. This time we were just in time. This was not looking so good. He told me his tummy hurt and he wanted to stay in the house. Fuzzy was not exactly excited with the news that we were now going to watch a movie rather than play outside and refused to take his shoes off.

After a few more trips to the bathroom and a few "Imma gunna puke" false alarms I was more than relieved to get Chesty's text message saying she was on her way and would be there to pick up Easton soon. My response, "no problem. oh, by the way, Easton has the sh@#*".

Even with all the peeing and pooping and puking false alarms both boys talked about their time together all night. I think that next time they will have a blast minus the tummy troubles.

I'm happy to report that Easton was feeling fine but that evening and rather than introducing the flu to my entire household he most likely had a snack at his school readiness program that didn't agree with him. Thank god!

Kicking It Into Wedding Gear

2009-09-05T00:01:00.002-04:00

Papa Bear and I's wedding is in one year (Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred sixty-five days) from Friday. It is high time I kick it into wedding gear and get this shindig organized and under control.

I have been dragging me feet a tiny bit. Definitely NOT because I don't totally want to marry Papa Bear but because having been through the whole wedding planning thing already once I know that it is a lot of hard work and as much fun as things like picking out dresses and stuff can be there are also the less fun things like narrowing down an overly large guest list for our "small" wedding.

My cure for my less than eager attitude was to go and put on one of those huge, overly sequined, white (or ivory, or egg shell, or diamond white, or some other form of white with a fancy name) beautiful wedding dresses to motivate me to get moving on things...the good, the bad and the ugly parts of wedding planning.

So this morning with Chesty McBreasty as my wingwoman I headed out on a mission to try on as many gowns as possible housed inside the closest boutique. After introducing Chesty to my maniacal driving habits we were on our way. Look out crinoline here we come.

We pulled into the parking lot and found ourselves in a near death experience...not near death for us but for the old lady that was very close to getting a beat down for nearly running into my beautiful Magic Pumpkin and marring it with the white paint from her buick and a very probable dent. Open your damn eyes lady, can't you see a huge orange van right in front of you?
Who knew pulling out of (NOT BACKING out of) a parking space was so difficult? Especially when there aren't ANY other cars near you except this giant orange van clearly in your view that isn't moving? Geez.

After we recovered from our (her) brush with death we headed into the shop (technically after we stood on the sidewalk for about 7 minutes waiting for the place to open). We passed through the men's side of the shop. We passed by all the black jackets and black jackets next to the black jackets and the rack of ties and stepped into "the other side". The side full of shades of white and little reflections of light gleaming from the gazillion beads that adorned the dozens of dresses resting on the racks.

The first set of dresses were selected and we were off to the races. The very first dress went quite well. I had fears that I would look square like I do in my regular clothes. Before I had children, when I was young and super thin I was square like a teenage boy and now that I have had three children and become addicted to Iced Cappuccinos with extra cream I still look like a square...well more like a squishy wider box...kind of like Spongebob Squarepants. Anyway, I did not look like a square or a squishy box in the dress. I looked thin and...non square. My boobs were forced up by the shape of the bust (and the fact that the dress was a size too small and EVERYTHING was either forced up or down. Overall not too bad....and on to the next one.

For the most part most of the dresses looked pretty damn good and I am now convinced that I MUST add a corset to my wardrobe because wow! Things just look a whole lot better bound up with three feet of reinforced ribbon. Chesty, who had come along to be "brutal honest" was not really at all brutal. In fact much to my surprise she actually had a lot of nice things to say about how I looked in the dresses so it must have been going as well as I thought. Though some of the dresses were pretty tight so the lack of oxygen to my brain may have caused me to miss any brutal comments while trying to stay conscience.

There were a few dresses that did not receive a thumbs up. There was the giant sweetheart neck lined one (*I apologize to any fashionistas that may have stumbled across my blog that I may not use or even know the proper terminology for certain things. Please don't stone me). I'm pretty sure I could have stuffed the chest of that dress with 10 pin bowling balls and it still wouldn't have looked full. There were a few others with side roushing and terribly gaudy appliques that didn't score well either. Then there was the cute, but about three or four sizes too small dress that was really hard to imagine with a nice fit when you were distracted by the exaggerated belly rolls, back fat and...a TAIL! Pretty sure that wasn't there before I put the dress on so I think I'm just going to pass on that one too.

By the end of the trip we had narrowed things down to a top five. A really nice dress with lace overlay and detachable underskirt (very cool. It was like two dresses in one), another one with lace overlay but with a corset back (that made me go from a size ten to a size six when tied up), one with a very pretty beaded bust and side roushing, a very basic but flattering gown that would require that the very annoying frill that tickles my ears be removed and the waist minimizing dress with the dropped waist, horizontal roushing and the extremely distracting appliques that would also need to be removed including the one on the rear of the dress nicely placed just south of my butt hole that looked as though it had been pooped (no I did not misspell popped) there.

Overall it was a very productive trip. I found five really super gowns, got a bit of an ego boost and got the much needed motivation to kick it into wedding gear. Now I just need to talk to Papa Bear about the budget to see if I need to narrow my five choices down farther. :)

Wabbit Hunting With Anonymous Base

2009-08-30T01:13:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a usual Saturday. Papa Bear and I took the three little monkeys to a friends house for supper and to hang out. After the boys were back home and in their beds I left for Chesty McBreasty's house to be the third member of a three woman rock band (Rockband for the Wii that is) with Chesty and "The Absent Minded Photographer"(AMP).

When I pulled up to Chesty's and dropped The Magic Pumpkin (caravan) in the same stupid sewer hole that I drive into almost every time I go there, next to my van sitting on the sidewalk twitching a bit and hopping in a circle was a little bunny. He let me walk very close to him and didn't even bolt when the van beeped when I locked it. If it weren't for the odd twitching I would have thought the little guy was kind of cute but the twitching just made him creepy so I picked up my pace up to and into Chesty's house to begin our jam session.

We call ourselves "Anonymous Base". Anonymous because AMP can't (mis)pronounce it without Chesty and I breaking out in a fit of laughter and BASE because if you spell it BASS as in treble or bass AMP pronounces it bass..like the fish. Chesty plays the drums because...well...because both AMP and I suck really, really bad. I switch with AMP between guitar and vocals. We are interchangeable because we suck equally as bad.

We were jamming out to some AC/DC tonight and having a good ole time daring the neighbours to make a noise complaint when a smoke break was required (not for me though. Smoking is bad). So after some confusion over who's shoes were who's since all three of us apparently took advantage of the fact that Walmart had some cute $4 flip flops this year and we all have the same pair, we stepped outside and there sat the twitchy bunny.

When Chesty approached him this time he took off and hopped in a big circle and then disappeared under my van. Chesty was concerned that the little guy would get run over by a car since he was hopping all over it. So, she decided she should catch it...with a laundry basket.

I don't know that I can actually paint an accurate picture of Chesty wabbit hunting. It was quite a site to see. First she chased him around in circles in the front yard for a while. Then after retrieving the basket she tried to sneak up on him just narrowly missing him as he proceeded to hop down the street. I have never seen Chesty jump around like that. She did all this wearing a white "wife beater" style tank top (remember we don't call her Chesty for nothing), a pair of leopard printed pajama pants and her $4 flip flops. When asked by AMP what she was going to do with the wascally wabbit when he was capturedvshe replied "well, I hadn't really thought that far ahead". Probably something she should think about before you try to trap a wild rabbit under a laundry basket in your front yard. Just a thought.

I can't think of any better way to spend a Saturday night than Wabbit Hunting with Anonymous Base and laughing so hard I almost wet myself. It was probably a whole lot funnier to us. I guess you had to be there.

Home Sweet Freaking Home

2009-08-27T21:43:00.002-04:00

Good Lord it is good to be home. I am in dire need of a vacation to recover from our vacation. We continued on with our family "fun" at Storybook Gardens this morning. More walking on my already sore feet and my burning calves. More sun and heat. More screaming from my kids plus about a million others like they were in stereo.

The kids had fun but were starting to show signs of family fun overload and were forgetting how to behave, how to listen and how to not completely drive me up the wall. Don't get me wrong, I love my children but there is definitely such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Before our vacation I was itching to get the heck out of dodge and as far away from our house as possible. Now, after 3 nights in single room accommodations with three kids, sleeping on rock hard mattresses with an occasional bed wetter, dealing with either a freezing cold room or a sweaty hot room, eating nothing but take out, and walking for hours on end this little house is heaven on a cloud.

I have never been so happy to see my overgrown weed beds or the pile of shoes that Wee One pulled out before we left that greeted us just inside the door. I missed my house. I missed my big fluffy soft bed (that I only have to share with Papa Bear) with my big, non itchy blankets on it. I missed my central air that has never let me down. I missed my own shower and my own shampoo. I missed...home.

I'm sure this feeling will end soon enough. Probably while I'm doing the hundreds of loads of laundry tomorrow or when I'm trying to wash my kitchen floor around three kids or while I'm cooking dinner (one of my least favourite chores). For now I will enjoy this feeling and try to remember it the next time I think it's time for a vacation. It's good to be home again. Home sweet freaking home.

Everyone Loves Marineland

2009-08-26T22:11:00.003-04:00

Everyone Loves Marineland...unless of course they are on a budget. Yesterday Papa Bear and I took our three little monkeys to Marineland. It was our first visit as a family to any kind of theme or amusement park. We arrived shortly after 10. We slathered everyone up with sunscreen and headed for the entrance.

Little Bear was eager to start riding rides and the big roller coaster and the Sky Screamer (I'll get to this later). If you have a six year old or have ever been a six year old you know what I mean by eager. I mean he was being a freak. We decided to start out on the family rides to get rid of some of his pent up excitement and to warm up before we ventured on the big rides. I asked Fuzzy if he wanted to go on the first ride..."Uh uh" he replied while he stared wide eyed at the ride whirling around in front of him. OK then, Little Bear and I were on our own. The first ride sent Little Bear and I 60 feet up into the air, twirled us around in a gentle kind of way and brought us back down. If this was going to be the excitement for the day it was going to be a long day.

Fuzzy decided that he would indeed like to ride the next ride which was a miniature ladybug roller coaster. He looked pretty worried as he watched the ride go by with other riders a couple of times but didn't change his mind. When the ride took off I couldn't help but laugh at the terrified expression on his face that gradually changed to excitement and pure joy as the ride continued. We went on this ride a few times.

Next we went into the underground aquarium to see the Belugas and Killer Whale. All three boys were in complete awe watching the giant fish (or frishies as Fuzzy calls them) swim around. After the whales we checked out the bears which where equally enjoyed and then it was time to give in to Little Bears request for the big roller coaster, Dragon Mountain. This was kind of sentimental in that this was going to be Little Bear's first real roller coaster ride and Dragon Mountain was also my first real roller coaster years ago. Made me feel kind of old too. All the way up the path to the mouth of the mountain I kept asking him if he was sure he wanted to do this. He assured me he did so in we went. There was only one set of riders ahead of us so we didn't have long to wait..or change our minds. Just as the ride began Little Bear says to me, "Mom? What if I throw up?".

Having survived and throughly enjoyed the whole Dragon Mountain experience (without puke) we had worked up an appetite and it was time to stop for lunch. I am still in shock that five slices of crappy flat pepperoni pizza, two watered down sodas, two bottles of "juice" and a bottle of water cost me just under $40! Holy Crap! For that price you would think that it should at least taste better than the paper plate it was served on.

From lunch we went to one of the dolphin/sea lion shows. Fuzzy really enjoyed that and I caught Little Bear digging it a couple of times too. Fuzzy just seemed to have problems staying on the seat and fell and added to the collection of bruises already covering his knees. After the show we went on a few more "little kid" rides to amuse Fuzzy and then headed to the ride Little Bear had been talking about all week...

Sky Screamer is a free fall tower type ride that sits on top of a large hill which you must climb in order to ride. Since there was a restaurant also at the top of the hill, Papa Bear decided to climb the hill with us and take Fuzzy and Wee One for ice cream since they were growing quite tired of being spectators. I told Little Bear that this ride had better be worth the climb since it was quite a climb. He was pumped and so excited to ride this thing even though I was not so sure myself. Up, up, up we climbed until my calves started to burn and we finally reached the top. We got in line and Little Bear started to hiccup. "I hiccup when I get nervous" he informed me.
"Are you sure you want to ride?"
"Yes"
After 5 minutes of waiting in line he said "I don't think I wanna go on it"
"Are you sure? You don't have to"
"Yeah, OK I'm going to ride it"
Now we were next in line.."Mom, I'm too scared. I want ice cream instead"
Good Lord child I did not just climb this damn hill for nothing. If he wasn't going to ride it I was riding it without him.

I got on the ride beside two young girls. The one little girl turned to me and asked "have you ever rode this before?"
"No"
"It's really cool. I rode it five times today. I cried the first time"
OK, so now I have to be tough because there is a preteen beside me that has rode this scary monster of a ride five times. Then the beast began to breathe and bounced us up and down a little taunting us about what was coming next. What came next was being shot 320 feet into the freaking air at lightning speed. I'm pretty sure I peed a little. Then it left us hanging up there to see everything. I could see the falls and the whales swimming in their pools and the rest of the park and MY HOTEL! It just leaves you up there admiring the view so that you forget what comes next...I deathly drop back towards the earth. HOLY CRAP!....It was freaking awesome!

Afterwards Little Bear told me he didn't want me to go on the ride by myself because he was pretty sure it was going to shoot me to the moon. Not quite to the moon son but I think I came close and touched a cloud.

Now that Sky Screamer had been conquered even if just by me it was time to trek back down the hill and check out some deer. My kids are afraid of deer. You know because deer are suck scary dangerous animals and all. I did get some pictures of Little Bear looking rather terrified while petting a deer and Fuzzy was cool as long as the deer didn't move..at all. He also thought their poop was fascinating.

After the deer it was time to head for the exit. After a fight with Fuzzy about wanting to buy three stuffed whales instead of the one I was willing to buy we said goodbye to Marineland. With three completely tired out boys we loaded ourselves into the Magic Pumpkin and back to the hotel. Goodbye King Waldorf and all your fishy friends. Enjoy our money you damn thieves.

Bear Family Vacation

2009-08-24T20:35:00.002-04:00

Today is day one of our family vacation. This is our first family vacation since Papa Bear and I have been together and both Fuzzy and Wee One's first vacation ever. Little Bear has been on a few family vacations with X and I but just to a relatives cottage and he is WAY out of practice. I have never taken three kids overnight anywhere but I willing to try just about anything once. Lord help me.

We started our trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario on a positive note and managed by the grace of god to actually get on the road at 10 o'clock sharp as planned. This NEVER happens. We are chronically late for everything. This is in no way thanks to Papa Bear who was in his usual slow mode. I wasn't in any hurry to get out of bed this morning either but once I was up it was full steam ahead. I even lugged the suitcases (I'm not sure how we managed to have so much luggage for only a 3 night stay but but we do) and packed the Magic Pumpkin (my orange Grand Caravan) myself.

Even though Papa Bear knows his way to and around Niagara Falls pretty well he decided to let "Mrs. Garmin" (GPS that is) lead the way and discovered a tiny little shortcut to cut some time off his next trip. We had to unplug the satellite radio in order to plug in "Mrs. Garmin" so for the rest of the trip we had to listen to a lot of easy rock stations or stations that only came in for a couple of kilometers before static took over. Not that anyone else in the van could hear the static since I am such a nice person that I sing along with the radio so that they don't lose any of the words in the static.

We were about an hour into our three and a half hour drive when we heard Little Bear's first "Are we there yet?" followed by "We SHOULD be there by now" and then "Papa Bear you drive too slow" as we were passed by a flying VW Beetle with a personalized license plate reading "TURBOBUG". I don't think that was too bad considering I thought it would start by the time we hit the highway.
At this point Wee One was peacefully sleeping and Fuzzy was close.

Shortly before we reached our destination I realized I had forgot to pack either my baby carrier or our second stroller since there is no way that Fuzzy would be able to do that much walking. A trip to Walmart was in order...if we could find Walmart. Mrs. Garmin was not of much help and sent us on some sort of loopdee loop business that never did bring us any closer to a Walmart. After several "turn right and then right"s we did find a Zellers and I purchased a sad excuse for a stroller that I fully intend to sell on Facebook when I get home.

Next we checked into our home for the next couple of days. The only rooms they had available for us when we booked was a very basic room with two DOUBLE beds. I have not slept in a bed smaller than a Queen in about 10 years. Let alone share it with someone else but I'm up for the challenge. Papa Bear flipped on the TV while we decided what to do first. Apparently he turned it onto a French channel because the next words out of Little Bear's mouth where "Papa Bear do you speak English?? This show IS NOT English, it's Omish or something".
Oh my.

Wee One was in desperate need of a nap by this time so I left him and Papa Bear to their "Omish" shows and crap Internet connection and took the two oldest boys to ride the Sky Wheel. It is like a giant Ferris wheel but with enclosed gondolas with air conditioning and elevator music. It takes you really high in the air so that you can see all of Clifton Hill and the falls. Fuzzy was in awe and a little bit braver than Little Bear but they both loved it and it was fun to do something with my two biggest boys since Wee One usually hogs my attention.

We returned to the hotel to find that Wee One did not have a nap but it was time to get some dinner. We went and got a pizza from Boston Pizza and Papa Bear decided to get salad...usually this would be great except that we are living in a hotel room and we don't have any dishes or cutlery so we needed to hunt some up. This hunt took us on a trek up and down the strip in search of a variety store to get some paper plates and plastic forks. We finally completed our mission and returned to our hotel room to fill our bellies.

Next was the part we were dreading in this tiny little room that had the potential to become our cell...bedtime. I figured the best way to tackle bedtime was to try to follow the same routine as we normally do at home and to split the kids so that I share a bed with Little Bear (and I PRAY that he doesn't have an accident tonight) and Papa Bear share with Fuzzy. We brought Wee One's mutilated playpen (another story for another day) for him to sleep in. Over all not nearly as bad as I had expected and all three were asleep by 9:15. Whoo hoo!

On the agenda for tomorrow: The Bear Family attempts Marineland. Wish us luck.

Freaky Mamas

2009-08-22T12:27:00.004-04:00

Last night the Crazy Mamas attended a Fantasia party. For anyone that might be living without electricity or still driving a horse and buggy, Fantasia is company that does home parties to sell products such as massage creams and lubricants, adult toys, lingerie and other interesting R rated things.

The "Germaphob" hosted....who would have thought? Nine mamas in total attended the event including a VERY pregnant "Sweet and Innocent" who is about to pop any day now. The lady that would serve as our consultant for the evening was more than eager to begin her presentation and jumped right into her spiel as soon as we arrived. She talked super fast and I think she said something about something while she held up several different frilly crotchless panties and lacy pieces of lingerie and a few costumes. Mostly I just saw a flurry of lace and spandex as she whipped them out and put them away.

Next was the boring crap. "Try this", rub it, sniff it, lick it (great words of wisdom for so many situations) for a collection of different creams and lotions. A couple of smelly candles and some powder, whoopee...

Then came out the scary stuff. Disco lighted, rotating, bright coloured...umm...toys with either faces or animals on them. Yeah that's right, apparently you can't buy too many adult toys that don't stare at you, because that's really hot. Nothing says orgasm like a bunny rabbit or a kangaroo or a creepy looking "goddess" who looks like Aunt Jemimah's mother. Some of the Mamas were horrified by the kinds of machines that were being displayed while others were mesmerized by their flashing lights and buzzing sounds.

For all the stand offish looks and scared expressions you wouldn't have thought that they would have purchased nearly as many of the items being featured as they did but our host was granted a significant amount in free goodies due to the high volume of sales. One of the Mamas even given a list of....toys to buy for her sister. Better your sister than your mother I guess. Another Mama was told by her husband to purchase "Benoit Beads", she has no idea what they are or what exactly they are for but she aims to please her man. Looks like most of the Mamas aren't nearly as prudish as they pretended to be. It seems to me there are more freaks in the group than you would think at first glance.

Another Milestone

2009-08-20T18:50:00.005-04:00

There have been 3000 hits on this blog since June 8th, 2009. Thank you to all my readers. :)

*Don't foget to vote for Random Blogness on the Canadian Blogosphere site. There is a link button wwwwwaaaayyyyy down at the bottom of this page beside the statcounter. I'm currently sitting at #14 of 68 in Canada.*

Ask And You Shall Receive

2009-08-17T20:49:00.005-04:00

People always ask me for advice. Some of these advice seekers are friends and some are just random strangers that I have crossed paths with at some point. Either way I am not qualified to give out many types of advice.

Today I was serving two gentleman at the counter at the Donut Shack when Guy #1 confided in Guy #2 that he had a wedgie and was having trouble keeping his underwear out of his butt. After a few more exchanges between the two, Guy #2 turned to me and said "Do you have any tips?".
I asked "For what? Preventing wedgies?"
"Yeah"
My answer: "ummm...duct tape? Serves two purposes, butt waxing and wedgie prevention or he could just switch to thongs, they're supposed to be stuck up there anyways".
Hey, he asked my thoughts...do I look like a specialist in Undergarment Support?

I have been asked for relationship advice quite a bit. I have been engaged, married, divorced, engaged (to Papa Bear) and I'm not even 30. I'm pretty sure I am not the one to ask for this kind of advice. I'm going to go out on a limb and claim I am CLEARLY not an expert in relationships. I will still give advice but really I'm just learning from my mistakes and pulling the rest out of...well you know where.

A few times I have been asked for advice on what someone should do about their career. Seriously people you are asking a Coffee Goddess (aka deliverer of donuts) for career advice? If I am still working at the Shack after 11 years I obviously still don't know what I want to be when I grow up and you should probably look for someone WITH a career to ask.

Now don't get me wrong, I love that people ask me for advice but I'm warning you that if you ask be prepared to receive either an unqualified answer or something straight out of the B.S. Book. There you have been warned. I'm sure even though I have handed out such a warning someone will still ask me for advice on something tomorrow that I will make up an answer to.

Oh Boy(s)

2009-08-14T23:49:00.003-04:00

Oh boy, I am raising three boys. This has presented a few challenges. The biggest problem with bringing up three little men is that, well, I'm a girl!

I have no experience being a boy. I don't understand how they think. I grew up with only brothers but that doesn't even really seem to be helpful.

Boys are gross. They just are. Fuzzy regularly brings his boogers to me on his finger and wants me to take care of it. EWWW, Fuzzy boogers are gross, put it in a kleenex and throw it in the trash. We do not need a show and tell. Fuzzy is also my bug collector and has even tasted a few. Little Bear insists on eating his lunch in three bites or less. I have never seen a little girl chow down like a little boy. Breathe boy, breathe. Wee One is still in the early stages of grossness and it is not as obvious as it is with his brothers.

Boys are weird. Yesterday I was changing Fuzzy's diaper and he had himself a little baby ummm..."tall friend" and was asking about it when Little Bear walked by and informed me that his penis does that sometimes too - when it gets tired of just hanging down all the time and if he plays with it a little bit it does that.....ummm...OK.

Boys are crazy. I have seen plenty of little girls with lots of energy but I'm sorry little ladies you can not compare to the non stop rhythm of a young boy. All day long they go, go, go. I'm down to only one that actually has a nap in the day so there isn't much down time around here. I am completely exhausted with chasing them all day long.

Boys play different than girls too. I have never turned my sandwich crust into any kind of vehicle and drove it around the table making motor noises. It amazes me at how many different items I have seen turned in to cars, trucks, tractors, and airplanes. Geez, it's a sippy cup kid, not a city bus.

Having all boys has some advantages. It is easier to pick out my pink and purple clothes out of the basket of folded laundry. Nobody will be borrowing my clothes or shoes as they get older (well, I guess this isn't really a guarantee but less likely than if I had daughters). We use less toilet paper (no need to wipe when you can shake). Nobody in my household will ever come home and tell me they are pregnant. I don't have to worry about vacuuming up Barbie shoes. There are no crying, peeing, pooping dolls kicking around (just actual kids that do those things).

Raising boys has posed it's share of challenges but it has certainly been entertaining so far as I'm sure it will continue to be. Lord give me the strength to endure. I'm raising three boys, oh boy.

Act Like A Child

2009-08-13T00:52:00.005-04:00

What is the best thing about having kids beside tiny hugs and slobbery kisses? Having an excuse to play like a kid. Having a kid gives you a free pass to act and play like a child. You get to play with their cool toys and act silly and nobody cares because it's for your kids, right?

Tuesday afternoon was hot, hot, hot. Little Bear had a Slip and Slide that was still in the box and desperately in need of some use. You know, you run, you dive, you hit the bump and take a dive. Since our winter skating rink build brought to light that we do not own a hose without a huge hole in it we decided to trek across the road to my in laws to use theirs. (The are also out of town so I'm sure they won't mind :)).

I set up the long yellow plastic sheet and hooked up the hose. Maybe it's just me but I'm pretty sure Slip and Slides seemed a lot cooler when I was a kid. Mind you my mother only let us pull ours out a few times (she obviously had no idea how much fun it was) but I remember being far more impressed then.

After finishing the very simple assembly I stood back to admire the bright yellow plastic glistening in the sun with my two oldest grinning like crazy but they just stood there. Duh, they don't know what the heck this thing is or what the heck they are supposed to do with it. So I gave Little Bear the verbal breakdown of what he was supposed to do. "Huh?" "Show me mom".

Well shoot. I didn't really plan on having to actually do this. I am 28 years old. We were in the front yard where people driving by might see us. I'm 28 years old. I'm over the height recommendation. I'm 28 years old. I haven't done this in probably close to 20 years. I'm 28 years old. I'm not even sure I can do this. Oh, what the hell and I went for it.

I gave myself a bit of a running start. As I approached the plastic I went for the dive. OUCH! Slip and Sliding with boobs is NOT a good idea. Holy crap that hurt and holy crap that water was cold! I also realized that the 5 foot tall height recommendation is in place because the taller you are the quicker you run out of plastic to slide on and the faster you meet the grass face first.

It took a minute to convince myself that I could recover and get up from the position I now found myself. Then as I brushed the grass clipping from my soaking wet legs and off my face I looked up to see three tiny men laughing their faces off at what they had just witnessed. All worth my pain (and oh there was some pain).

After my demonstration Little Bear was inspired to try it out himself over and over and over and over again. Fuzzy was not as brave. He would run from as far back as he possibly could without standing in the middle of the empty wheat field and give his all but then as he approached the edge of the plastic where you are supposed to take off he would either stop or run around it. Finally after several attempts at this I grabbed him and "helped" him to slide down the strip. He freaking loved it.

I didn't really think Wee One was really going to be too interested in this activity because he usually shies away from cold water especially in his face and he is still really little but he proved me wrong. He enjoyed walking down the plastic and playing in the sprinkler part of the Slip and Slide. He would fall down, laugh and get back up, giggling the whole time. We had so much fun. "It's mommy's turn". Fuzzy would yell and I would take my turn and they would laugh. It was great. I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Wednesday morning however was not even close to as much fun. I had to go to work at the Donut Shack bright and early with sore gluts, abs, arms, legs, shoulders, back, etc. Just about anything that could hurt, did. I am getting too old but man it was sooooooooooo worth the look on their faces and the sound of their laughter that I'm sure Tuesday was not the end of my Slip and Sliding adventures. Now to get Papa Bear to give it a go.

Sports, Sports, Sports...

2009-08-09T18:54:00.003-04:00

Papa Bear loves his sports. He watches them on TV. He watches them in person. He plays a few. He reads about them. Heck, he probably even dreams about them. I, on the other hand would rather chew on a rock.

His favourite sport to watch on TV is hockey. I can stand to watch a bit of this sport, usually in the last period when all the important stuff happens. He watches Football, Baseball, Bowling, Tennis (yawn) and Golf (double yawn). He also watches Curling on TV. I can not stand to watch this "sport" for more than about 30 seconds. I usually spend that 30 seconds wondering what kind of whacked out "sport" calls each round an "end" when in fact they are no where near the actual "end" of the game.

I may not really consider Curling a real sport but I did try it twice and it isn't as easy as it looks. I ended up with a pulled groin muscle and a giant bruise on my knee. Curling is Papa Bear's "winter sport". He loves it and devotes one to two nights a week to this "sport".

Papa Bear's "summer sport" is baseball. Technically he is a member of a baseball team but I haven't really seen him actually play in a game for more than a few innings. Usually he just stands by a base and makes hand gestures at the batters. He's either telling them to bunt or to eat s@*# and die. Either way he's not going to hit any home runs standing out there. I sometimes go to the ballpark to support the team but rarely to see Papa Bear play. I used play baseball until I took a ball to the head resulting in a concussion and bruised brain. The doctor said if I was going to continue to play I had to wear a batting helmet in the outfield...forget that, I quit!

I used to Figure Skate for years. I skated from about age six up until I found out I was pregnant with Little Bear. Oh how I miss it but I still enjoy lacing up to skate on our homemade ice rink in the yard in the winter even with the bumpy, uneven ice and occasional deep crack. Figure Skating is one of the few sports Papa Bear does not watch or take part in.

The only sport Papa Bear and I participate in together is Bowling. Though I don't like to watch Bowling on TV I do enjoy playing the game. Bowling is also where Papa Bear and I met each other for the first time many, many moons ago. After about a ten year rest from the sport for me and about fifteen for Papa Bear, we joined an adult league with some friends. Papa Bear is a little bit better than me - but don't tell him I said that.

Soccer is the only sport that nobody in our household plays, watches or even really talks about. Apparently if you are a baseball player Soccer is the devil. I don't really know too much about this but I do have a Soccer ball hanging from the rear view mirror of my van but that is kind of a inside joke.

Living with four males, I should probably get used to the channel being set to some sort of sport whether I like it or not. All I can say is thank goodness we have more than one TV in this house. I'm sure it won't be long before Papa Bear has three more "men" to help him chant, "sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports...SPORTS!"

Real Women Have Curves

2009-08-07T22:47:00.005-04:00

Today I was having a conversation with a friend of mine. We were talking about women and weight. We talked about a couple specific people that we both know and where they fall on Sketch's scale. I came to a conclusion...my friend, Sketch is either a horrible, horrible little man OR measures on a completely different scale than most.

Sketch's idea of "thick" or "bigger" girls is pretty much anyone that ate today. Though he didn't call me "thick" or "bigger" he did say it about girls that I compare to in size. Perhaps he thinks I just fell off the turnip truck and didn't catch this. I kind of wanted to punch Sketch right square in his little nose which sits upon his little head a top his skinny little body but then I realized it just didn't matter.

Before you think that I spent my night with my face buried in a tub of ice cream or standing in front of the mirror dissecting my bulges think again. I know I am NOT "thick" or "bigger" but even if I was I wouldn't let this skinny little man's measurement make me think less of myself. Do I have my share of body image issues? Sure I do but those are my own, not ideas put in my head by any other person.

With people who measure like Sketch it is no wonder that I know a very slender six year old girl who is already concerned about her weight or rather the worry that she will some day get "fat". It is sad that she is thinking about someone else's idea of what she should look like already at such a young age.

Poor Sketch he just doesn't even have a clue. "Thick" by his measurement is more like average. If he adjusted his scale of measurement to reflect truth he may open himself up to see that an average women is not stick thin with no existence of an ass and only skin covering her protruding bones. Real women have curves buddy and I am a real women.

Wednesday Drive

2009-08-06T01:09:00.004-04:00

Today my two oldest sons were with their dad and it was just Wee One and I. I decided that we should go for a ride through Hicksville to the tractor dealership in a town about 45 minutes or so away (at least I think it is a town, maybe just a village, I don't know) to pick up a birthday present for my nephew who has a birthday at the end of the month. It was a beautiful day and Wee One was in desperate need of nap that could very well be ride induced.

With a sippy cup of ice water for Wee One and a soda for me we headed out on our drive. Wee One wasn't so keen on my nap idea but rather squealed with delight most of the way while I got down to Crazy Possessive by Kaci Battaglia (Wee One is much too little to repeat the words so this is about the only time I can sing it on the top of my lungs and not have to worry about the two oldest boys singing it to grandma later).

When I'm on any drive that lasts for more than a couple of minutes I like to look around at the things around me. Not so much that I can't keep my caravan on my side of the road or anything of course. Mostly I just saw a lot of trees and farms, one in particular with a cross on the barn, a little odd but whatever. I saw some horses, goats and cows.

In one front yard I saw a broken down tractor, like it had just stopped in the middle of the yard on it's way through. Instead of towing it out of their lawn though the people that lived there just planted flowers around it like they were trying to disguise the ugly, decrepit piece of farm equipment as, I don't know, some sort of clever artistry....FAIL. It really just looks like a piece of crap tractor surrounded by flowers. That's it. That's all. Not at all pleasant to look at. It's this kind of crap that helps to make my weed infested flower beds look better so thank you.

I saw a house all jacked up on some shady looking beams with kids ride-on toys all underneath it. Who the heck lets their children play under a jacked up house. Haven't they ever seen The Wizard of Oz? Didn't you see what that house did to that poor witch when it fell on her? Good grief people. I really don't think when you live in the country where there is plenty of room on all sides of you that you need to let your children play under your house. Safety first.

Farther down the road I saw a trailer or motor home (I'm not really sure what the proper name for them is) with two more trailers as additions. I guess it was like a trailer condominium or something. Or a trailer mansion (for those better off trailer trash kind of folk). Whatever it was it was one of the ugliest things I have ever seen. Instead of buying three trailers to try to stick together why not just buy or build a nice little house?

Another house had a second story balcony. The balcony was enclosed with chain-link fencing. Now, is it just me or does chain-link fencing not have an awful lot of give to be what is supposed to hold me in from free falling from the balcony and landing smack dab in the drive way next to a car with no wheels up on blocks? Just wondering is all.

Shortly before I arrived at my destination I had to pass by the large grassy hill that is really a dump in hiding. They almost had me fooled too - except for the dozens of seagulls flying overhead and the rotten stench wafting in my open windows (I forget about this every time and never remember to put the windows up until I am directly in front of the dump).

The ride back was equally as exciting as I looked for each of the landmarks I had discovered on my way there just to make sure I had really seen what I thought I had seen on the way there. Such a lovely day for a drive through Hicksville on this Wednesday afternoon.

Pass Gas With Class

2009-08-02T17:25:00.006-04:00

I don't claim to be extremely lady like at all times by any means but when did it become acceptable for woman to burp and fart in public like a caveman? Is that not still a rude thing to do?

I know we all have to burp or let one rip from time to time but am I alone in thinking that it should be done discreetly or blamed on my kids when in public? Too often lately I have found myself surrounded by burpers and farters who think it is their duty to let the world know that they had chili for lunch. They let 'em rip loud and proud without an ounce of concern.

I'm embarrassed if a belch or fart escapes my body when there are other people around-other than Papa Bear - I can appreciate a well executed "dutch oven" as well as anyone else but these burpers and farters just don't seem to care where or when they let go.

It's bad enough when men do it(I think it part of how they communicate to each other) but come on ladies we should conduct ourselves with a little more class. I doubt men really find burping and farting in front of their family and friends a sexy quality in the women of their dreams. I don't ever remember hearing any guy say "did you hear that giant stinky fart that came out of that blonde? I'm going to take her home with me if she didn't crap her pants!"

Old ladies are an exception. They likely think they are being discreet because they are too deaf to hear the kinds of sounds that come out of their bodies and I've never heard my grandmother go "ahhhh, that feels better, I bet you can't do better". Young children can also get away with such rudeness because their cuteness is more powerful therefore it trumps the rudeness.

I think a woman burping and farting in public is something I would most likely see in a trailer park by a bleach blonde tramp, wearing sleazy clothes that show off too much of her crackhead body with missing teeth (other than the teeth thing I think I just described my ex husbands ex girlfriend) but unfortunately they are everywhere laughing at the disgusting sounds (and smells) they are producing from their bodies and forcing the rest of us to hold our tongues (and our noses) from telling them just how rude they are.

Ahhhhhhh, A/C

2009-07-31T15:31:00.004-04:00

I hate to sweat. I would much rather be freezing cold than even a little bit hot. When you are cold you can always put on more clothing, when you are hot you can only take so much off (without scaring other people anyway). This is why I can not live without air conditioning.

Air conditioning is a requirement for any house I live in or car I drive. Four walls and A/C and we're good, four wheels and A/C and we're good. I don't have it cranked to some ridiculous temperature that might turn my family into ice cubes, just a nice comfortable 74 degrees Fahrenheit is about right.

The first apartment X and I ever lived in was without air. It was our first summer in our first apartment that I purchased our first window air conditioner. The great big giant white box pumped all kinds of ice cold air into the tiny apartment cooling X, Roger the cat and I and making me a much happier lady.

My first car, a 1982 AMC Concord, dark green with baby poop brown interior, did not have air conditioning. The dark green paint helped to heat the little crap box up to a nice 110 degrees or better in the summer. Thankfully it had nice plush seats instead of vinyl or I may have been melted to them permanently. The most clothing I could ever wear to go for a drive was a bathing suit and a pair of shorts. It was brutal.

I feel sorry for all those poor bastards sweating it away all day and not sleeping at night. If I didn't have air conditioning (hypothetically speaking of course since that would never happen) I would spend my day at a coffee shop nursing the same soda for hours and soaking in their glorious artificial cool.

Or we could make an overly extended trip to Walmart. As long I buy something they can't kick me out can they? Yeah, I think Walmart would work best. Kids could take naps in the cart, on pillows that I "might purchase". I could visit with people I haven't seen in a while (I always run into these people when I go in to grab something quick). I could price compare any and all items I might purchase with my cell phone and save a bundle. Most Walmarts have a McDonalds in them so we would be set for meals as well.

Lord help me...or my in laws if my air conditioning breaks because I'll be moving in with them or who ever will take me until it is fixed...I will not sweat. It is not an option. Now will you excuse me, I need to go get a sweater.

Potty Training Impossible

2009-07-30T09:46:00.002-04:00

My oldest son potty trained at 2.5 years old. He was super easy to train and gave me a false sense that potty training itself was an easy process. Oh, how wrong that would turn out to be.

Fuzzy will be 3 in November. At the rate we are going with potty training he will be going to high school in diapers. Everyone told me that he would be easier to train than Little Bear because he would see his big brother using the toilet and wearing “big boy underwear” and would want to do the same....This has not been the case.

Fuzzy refuses to even consider using the toilet. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of it. He just doesn’t want to use it. He also has no interest in standing to pee which was a big deal to Little Bear when he was training so I purchased a potty chair. He will pee on the potty chair but not with any kind of regularity (not the kind of regularity that has to do with bran).

When I change his diaper I always ask if he wants to go pee on the potty. Sometimes he says yes and sometimes he says no. When he says yes he actually goes and I think “great. We are actually going to get this” and then I put a fresh diaper on and he goes again...

I ask him throughout the day if he would like to go pee on the potty and he almost always answers “I already did”.
By “I already did” he means “I already took a giant crap and have been marinating in it for the last 5 minutes”.
When I ask why he didn’t tell Mommy he had to go he either stares blankly at me or repeats “I already did”.

Fuzzy also has no interest in “big boy underwear”. With Little Bear wearing real underwear seemed to be the ticket to getting him to use the toilet instead of peeing his pants. Even though the thought of putting Fuzzy in underwear because of the number of times that boy poops in a day and the thought of cleaning crap out of underwear several times a day gives me the heebie geebies I am willing to give it a try if it means he will train quicker. However, when I ask him if he wants to wear “big boy underwear” like Little Bear he always says “no”.

Further discouraging is the fact I have several friends that have kids, boys at that who are the same age and well on their way of being potty trained. If we don’t get moving on training, Wee One is going to train before Fuzzy. Come on Fuzzy I’m about done with doing diaper duty for 2.

Practice Makes Perfect

2009-07-29T16:19:00.003-04:00

I think Papa Bear is trying to get fired from diaper duty. I guess I should be happy that he helps at all since so many men have diaper phobia. Since we currently have 2 in diapers, unless I’m going to do nothing but change diapers all day long, I need the help.

This morning he suited up Fuzzy in a fresh diaper and released him into the house. Not long after Fuzzy climbed into Wee One’s playpen to play he climbed back out and came to me with poop sliding down his leg to tell me that he pooped in the playpen. There was a serious diaper malfunction and Fuzzy got a shower only half hour after his bath.

Papa Bear fitted Fuzzy with another fresh diaper and set him free again. While digging through Fuzzy’s dresser for clothes to dress him I distinctly heard the sound of liquid hitting laminate. I turned around to see Fuzzy standing behind me in a puddle of urine with a look on his face as confused as mine. When I changed this diaper I found that his penis was not enclosed in the diaper at all but sticking out the leg hole. What the heck Papa Bear?

If Papa Bear’s plan is to be removed from this duty he is going to be sadly disappointed. He obviously needs MORE practice so I think he should take over the job completely until he is a pro...like me :).

I don’t think this is the first time Papa Bear has tried to get fired from a less than pleasant task by displaying shoddy skill at that task. We have a similar issue when it comes to folding laundry...or rather ROLLing laundry as Papa Bear prefers to do.

We have 5 people living in our house and 5 people generate a lot of laundry. A lot of laundry means a lot of folding so similar to the diaper issue if only one of us is responsible for folding laundry they're not going to have much time for anything else. This being said I refuse to wear a piece of clothing that is so wrinkly it looks like I have been sleeping in it for a week.

I believe he has been applying this “do a crap job and get fired” method to get out of other jobs like taking out the garbage and sweeping the floor as well. Sorry Papa Bear but I’m not going to fire you I’m only going to “help” you get more practice. After all practice makes perfect...like me :).

2000

2009-07-27T17:18:00.003-04:00

2000 hits on this blog since June 8, 2009. Whoo hoo!

Ugly In The Cradle, Pretty At The Table?

2009-07-25T23:24:00.005-04:00

Have you ever seen a baby that is just...less attractive than most,...attractively challenged,...or just plain butt ugly? You don't have to lie, I'm pretty sure everyone has come across a Baby Egor or two in their time.

What's worse than an ugly baby? Parents of an ugly baby who don't know that they indeed have an ugly baby. They post their pictures on Facebook and send them to their friends and family via email without being the wiser. "Oh isn't she just a cutie?". How the heck are you supposed to answer that? This is one of those few times when it is recommended that you lie your face off. Stay calm, DO NOT let the "No" escape your lips or let out a scream.

These homely little beings get entered into baby contests and have their picture displayed on Grandma's wall for visitors to be subjected to. They are dressed up in frills and lace but come on you can't disguise a turkey as a swan.

It's not the baby's fault they didn't ask for the less than stellar genetics. They are just victims of poor meshing of genes. Poor little ugly buggers.

Someone once said to me "ugly in the cradle means pretty at the table" (she was also famous for asking "Do I look like I jut fell off the turnip truck?"). I have heard her say this a few times about a few babies but have not actually seen the results she predicted. Usually "ugly in the cradle" results in a homely looking toddler, youngster, and teenager.

Of course I can not relate to these parents of ugly babies since I, myself have 3 of the most gorgeous boys ever. ;)

Die With a T

2009-07-24T23:38:00.006-04:00

I have never been on a diet. Not that I shouldn't just that I don't have the will power to do it so why bother setting myself up for failure. I have the will power to quit smoking (thrice) but not to lose a couple of fifteen pounds. To me diet is DIE with a T.

I step on the scale every now and then with hopes of wishful shrinking but really I'm not surprised when there is no change to those ugly numbers. So I shove the scale way under the vanity so I can forget that I own one.

I love food. Love it. If I crave it, I eat. Its not like I'm anti vegetable or anything, I like carrot cake (Ha!). No seriously I really do like vegetables and fruits...it's just that I also really like potato chips, ice cream and bacon.

I'm also terrible for late night snacking. It's like I'm bored just sitting in front of the TV or computer so I need to fill my face. I know this is no good but I can't help it. I'm not very good at portion control either. I say (type) this as I finish off the other half of a bag of chips I opened yesterday...

I tried exercise but I don't really like to sweat. About the only exercise I would really be interested in would be swimming because the sweat gets washed about but due to my bathing suit issues this isn't likely to happen very often either. That leaves chasing my kids, doing housework and running around for 8 hours at a time at the Donut Shack as my only sources of exercise.

I was actually losing a tiny bit of weight doing the step aerobics and hula hooping on the Wii Fit but once the batteries died in the Wii Fit board that was the end of that. The Crazy Mamas planned on walking nightly or at least weekly but that plan never made lift off.

My new plan to make myself appear thinner is to discourage my friends from dieting and bake them lots of goodies so they get bigger creating an optical illusion that I am smaller.

Buzz Off!

2009-07-23T22:57:00.004-04:00

Why do mosquitoes have to come out at the exact time that I most like to be outside? Dusk is my favourite time of day to sit out on my new deck and just hang out but before you know it they have you surrounded. They take turns dive bombing you and attacking from all angles.

Tonight I had the displeasure to get trapped in my van with 2 very aggressive mosquitoes. Damn things were trying to cause an accident. One got me in the leg and narrowly escaped getting mushed while the other went for my forehead. What the heck? There I was driving along our windy dirt road singing away and smacking myself. A sight to see I'm sure.

Chesty McBreasty (how do you find your way into so many of my blogs?) is a freak about mosquitoes. She will stand right up at the table in the coffee shop and yell "oh, oh, get it, get it, kill it, kill it" so that most of the people in the shop turn to see what in the world is wrong with her (we still aren't sure, we are waiting on the results of her evaluation).

Mosquitoes are not the easiest to kill. They fly in some sort of windy pattern, faking a left and going right. I don't even really like to kill them. Not because of some "save the mosquitoes" kind of protest but because it makes me want to vomit when you squish the little bugger just to find yourself splattered with blood that may or may not be your own.

I can't stand the smell of mosquito repellent either. The smell is one that is so strong that you can taste it as it chokes the air out of you. I've tried a bunch of other non repellent ways of deterring them. Some sort of work and some just don't.

Mosquitoes are just another reason way I prefer winter over summer. Frozen mosquitoes don't bite.

Monday Rescued

2009-07-21T00:25:00.005-04:00

Sometimes a little something tickles your funny bone when you most need it. That happened to me today and I'm glad because it saved my day.

Today is Monday. (It will probably be Tuesday by the time this is actually posted but at the moment it is Monday dammit). If you follow my blog you know just how well Monday and I get along, or DON'T get along. Today started out just like most Mondays. Today was a work Monday so that added to the Mondayness of this particular Monday.

The morning consisted mainly of chaos and miserable people. Miserable people who were probably miserable because it is Monday and Monday gets them too. I managed to make it through without going "caffeinated" on anyone ("going caffeinated" is the Donut Shack equivalent to "going postal" at the post office in case you didn't know).

By early afternoon I was sent to sweep the floors. With my trusty mode of transportation...I mean broom I started out on my task. I was sweeping away in the bathrooms when a man came in. He said to me "Oh, is this a bad time?".
I responded, "ummmm...sir I don't really think there is ever a good time for you to be in the women's washroom"...he was in the wrong bathroom. After a bit of grumbling about there not being a urinal and being embarrassed he headed to his intended destination.

Now, even though he didn't have a clue, this gentlemen saved my day. He unintentionally provided me with some oh so very needed comic relief. Right there in the middle of my less than fantastic day he made me smile (and giggle and maybe even laugh out loud a bit). Thank you for rescuing my Monday sir.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

2009-07-19T21:48:00.006-04:00

This week I have been called lots of names by different people. Some of them warranted and some of them not.

I was called "bitchy" and "bossy" by a lady at work (not to my face of course, just to everyone else in the hut). Why? For some reason it is bitchy to ask someone to do their job. Apparently it is too much to ask that they listen to what the heck the customer asked them for...and get it. If we are going to get paid the same should we not do the same amount of work? Come on lady, keep your name calling to yourself and keep up. Less jaw-jacking, more coffee pouring.

I was called names by a relative who has become an unwelcome member of my blog audience. Interesting that I am criticized for the way I treat people yet it is OK if they call a member of their "family" nasty names. I guess I should be glad it isn't behind my back anymore. Who's the bitch there? Take the knife out of my back and move along.

I was called a meanie by my 6 year old. A meanie because I asked him to eat some of his veggies at dinner and because I made him go to bed on time. I'm so sorry son that I want you to get proper nutrition to grow. I'm so sorry if I think that getting a good night sleep is more important than getting in some TV time. Dreams are better than cartoons anyways, go to bed.

Bitch seems to be a favourite. I think this is because a lot of people lack the creativity to come up with something original or because they are one themselves so they think they can identify their own kind.

What makes me a bitch? I'm not saying I am and I'm not saying I'm not but I will admit to ACTING like a bitch on an occasion or two...or three...or four. I am definitely not a "bitch" in the traditional meaning of the word as I am not a canine. Am I a bitch because I will tell the truth? I'm not sure when honesty no longer became the best policy but it seems people would rather be lied to. Am I a bitch because I will say things to your face where other people will say far worse behind your back? Whatever, most names don't penetrate my super, duper, ultra strong, anti name calling force field anyways.

When people call me names I just remember that childhood rhyme, "sticks and stones may hurt my bones but names will never hurt me". The rhyme holds true for the most part although sometimes it is the source that does indeed hurt though I rarely admit to that. I usually just try to make a joke of it. That way if it does hurt I can try to fool myself into thinking that it doesn't. Works for me most of the time.

That's all from this Bitch on this subject for now.

The T.P. Experiment

2009-07-16T21:31:00.005-04:00

A week or so ago I went into the bathroom to use the toilet (just to clarify, I have done this several times since as well) and found that the toilet paper roll on the holder was empty. There was a half roll sitting on top of the empty roll. There was a half roll sitting on the back of the toilet and an empty roll on the floor in front of the toilet.

What the heck??? Really Papa Bear? There is a garbage can right there under the holder so there was no reason for the empty roll on the floor. Apparently there was a need for a second half roll sitting on the empty holder because the roll on the tank was a whole reach around away?

It was at this point that I decided that I was NOT going to replace the roll either and see what happens. For a couple of days, nothing. The same collection of empty and half rolls. Then this morning I went in to have my morning piddle and low and behold, I almost fell off the damn throne, there on the holder was a brand new roll safely secured in its place.

By golly he can do it! I'm so proud.

Now that we have tackled the toilet paper my next mission is getting Papa Bear to pick up his underwear off the bathroom floor after he is done in the shower. Training a man really requires some patience. We made some real progress this week. Baby steps, baby steps.

20 Random Things I'd Like To Do Before I Die

2009-07-16T01:18:00.006-04:00

1. Skydive (I think it would be freaking awesome, unless of course my chute fails and I plummet to my death)
2. See a palm tree (I have never been ANYWHERE)
3. See a mountain (nope, never been ANYWHERE)
4. Take my kids to Disney Land (again I have never been ANYWHERE)
5. Retire (I would like to do this BEFORE I die not upon my death)
6. Meet someone truly famous (not like Kurt Browning famous, like Brad Pitt famous)
7. Write a book of some sort even if it is never published (been thinking about this for a while but don't know where to start other than "once upon a time")
8. Get an apology from a specific person who never apologizes but from whom I feel I am owed an apology.
9. Go to a Ireland (I don't know why Ireland but yeah, Ireland)
10. Have a positive relationship with my children to the very end of my days (don't want to be known as that jerk that raised me)
11. Dye my hair a shocking colour and wear it with pride
12. Be recognized for something major I have done
13. Ski
14. Hold my grandchildren (and be glad the diapers are someone else's problem)
15. Take a vacation BY MYSELF (I think the only TRUE way to have a vacation)
16. Own and drive a beetle (Ok, I'm a geek but I have always wanted to)
17. See a concert (of at least a half decent band)
18. Work somewhere besides the Donut Shack (after nearly 11 years this one isn't looking very promising)
19. Drive a Combine (it's a farm thing)
20. Be the Master of Ceremonies at someones wedding (I think I would kill it)

ANGRY

2009-07-14T00:26:00.004-04:00

I'm angry. Angry at the world lately. Angry at work, angry at home, angry in traffic, angry at night, angry in the morning, angry all day long.

I didn't even realize it until the last couple of days that I am so angry. I need to chill or I'm going to have a heart attack before my 30th birthday. The stupidest crap is making me angry.

I'm angry at home. Angry that my house is a pig sty and I don't even know where to start. This is a direct link to something else at home that is making me angry, not being able to find ANYTHING. Thus causing me to hunt for 20 minutes to find a hat for each of my kids. A hat, something we have a million of but can't find 1.

I'm angry at work. Angry at coworkers (who don't do their job to the same degree as I do but still get paid the same - I'm not saying I'm perfect but I'm putting a ton more effort in that a lot). Angry at customers (that do/say dumb stuff - I really just want to "Soup Nazi" their coffee...NO COFFEE FOR YOU!) Angry about stupid little things that mount up to big heap of things to be angry about. Doing jobs like sweeping or mopping the Donut Shack provide me with time to think about all the things that make me angry at work and therefore just make me angrier so by the time I'm done I'm red in the face MAD.

I'm angry in traffic. Angry because 3/4 of the drivers on the road don't really know HOW to drive and end up cutting me off, not waiting their turn at an all-way stop and are incapable of using a signal. So far I have kept my anger mostly to myself and have only said a few 4 letter words with the boys in the van.

I don't know why I am so angry. I am not generally a crazy hostile person but I am really worked up. I don't know how to shake this off but hopefully this is short lived and I can go back to enjoying my job and let some things roll off my back. I really don't like being so angry. I just am.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

2009-07-12T22:08:00.001-04:00

Millions of people are afraid of spiders. I'm not necessarily AFRAID of them but I don't exactly like them either. I do however know quite a few that are very much afraid of the creepy little critters. I don't know if it because of how ugly they are or they move but for being so small in size they are feared by plenty.

I live with an arachnophob. He's 6. He is afraid of all bugs and spiders but mostly spiders. I thought all boys were supposed to love to touch bugs and creepy crawly, slimy things but not my Little Bear.

When he comes across a spider most often than not he lets out the loudest ear piercing girlified scream ever to come out of a male body. He will then either flee the scene or yell for someone to get it - usually it's his 2.5 year old brother is his rescuer "I get Bear, I get it".

Little Bear isn't satisfied with just a flattened spider, it must be properly disposed of in the toilet where it is to be flushed and never seen again.

Another person I know who is very afraid of spiders is my good pal and fellow Crazy Mama, Chesty McBreasty. This chick isn't afraid of too much but if a tiny little spider crosses her path she is suddenly an 8 year old school girl dancing around and screaming like a freak. Seriously the frigging thing is smaller than the fingernail on your pinky finger and she acts like it is going to swallow her whole.

I have to admit the contrast between Chesty McBreasty's fit of fear and my 2.5 year old, Fuzzy's amazement by the 8 legged wonders is rather humorous. Where Chesty refuses to enter a room where there is a spider, Fuzzy is more than happy to follow a spider around the house for an hour before it disappears or he decides it's life is to end.

I'm pretty sure after reading this Chesty is likely to have a nightmare of a giant, 8 legged beast chasing her down and spinning her up in it's silky web and eating her for dinner. Sleep tight Chesty, Muhahahahaha!

Dress?

2009-07-11T09:23:00.004-04:00

The power of TV is amazing. I have a habit of turning the TV on while I am "working" on the computer and leaving it on the same channel until Papa Bear comes and changes it. Last night I left it on TLC and came across a show called "Say Yes To The Dress", a show about women searching for their perfect wedding gown. Just when I was looking for some inspiration to get moving on wedding stuff, voila!

Now I am excited to get cracking on finding my own dress. I think if I accomplish this one task it will set the rest into motion. I have wedding dresses on the brain. I dreamt about them last night even, so I need to make a day (ha!) and decide who I'm going to take with me. I think I require a specific couple of people to come with me. I need a brutally honest person to tell me the truth at all cost and a person who is willing to lie to me to spare my feelings to cushion the blow of the honest person.

I need a plan of where in the heck to start. Style. What style is first appropriate (I'm thinking the full skirted princess type dress is not the right choice for a mother of 3 taking her vows for the second time, outside, on the farm in her late 20's) and second flattering for the ol' baby belly and expanded ass? Colour. What colour is right? Obviously I'm not "pure" so crisp bright white probably isn't quite right. Modern or classic? Floor (grass) length or not? Plain or beaded? Strapless? Halter? Bell skirt? Sheath? ? ? ?

There are so many options but I think I need to put them on to know which direction I should go. The next day I have to myself I am definitely planning to start looking.....although if I wait for a day to myself we may have to move the wedding date to 2020...

Thank God I'm A Country Girl

2009-07-10T19:55:00.004-04:00

When Papa Bear and I first started talking, before we ever went out, he asked me a question. A question that was very important to him...Can you ever see yourself living in the country? The answer, YES!

For all of my life up until the 2 oldest boys and I moved out here to the farm I have lived in town. A small town, not as bad as a big city but still a town. A town where your neighbours can see what you are watching on TV and the mailman cuts across your yard. Where my driveway was no wider than my car and only big enough to fit a few cars. Where you could hear sirens and other peoples' music blasting. Where everyone in the neighbourhood was affected by a backyard BBQ.

I much prefer living in the country. I like to wear my rubber boots as much as possible (doesn't hurt that they are super cute pink rubber boots with flowers on them). I like that I never have to worry about what I wear when I put Little Bear on the bus and I like to hang my underwear on the clothesline and not worry about who is going to see them (there is nothing better than wind blown fresh underpants).

I like to look out in my backyard and see the crops that Papa Bear planted there and that he will harvest. I like that my boys get a first hand look at how things grow and the work involved in farming. I like how excited they get when they get to go for a ride in the tractor or the combine.

I like to run around and play in my giant wide open yard with my kids without worrying about how much noise they are making or how silly we look. I like that my kids are free to ride their bikes without being on the road and that we have our own park only steps from our back door.

Of course there are things that I don't like so much about living in the country, like no cable or high speed internet. I don't much like that the septic tank sometimes acts a fool and decides not to take the poop away but rather back up beside my back door. I don't like that a little country mouse knocked out our phone for days when he decided to make his nest in the connection box and most of all I don't like that my van is NEVER clean because of the several trips down our dirt road.

I don't know why I lived in town for all those years when the country is really where I feel I most belong. People ask me all the time if I like living in the country, my answer is always the same, "Thank god, I'm a country girl"

In My Red High Heels

2009-07-09T18:36:00.005-04:00

For the longest time I never understood how or why women wore high heeled shoes. Part of this ignorance towards heels might have been to my inability to walk in them. OK, I was able to walk but it wasn't pretty.

Then one day I walked into a store and saw the most adorable pair of red polka dot heels and I had to have them. I put them on and instantly felt the pull of the muscles in the back of my legs. I felt my sex appeal go up a couple of points. I felt taller and more powerful. I felt more feminine than any other piece of clothing or accessory had ever made me feel before. I felt like shouting "I am woman, hear me roar!".

I bought them with intentions to first learn how to walk in them and then to wear them to my future brother in laws wedding. I also bought a pair of flats...just in case.

For the next couple of weeks I wore my super cute heels around the house. I wore them while I did laundry and while I did dishes (well while I loaded the dishwasher anyway). I wore them while chasing my 3 little monkeys around the house in my pajamas. I planned an outfit to wear to the wedding that would match the heels as well as the flats...just in case.

Determined to wear these fabulous shoes to the upcoming event I decided I needed to make sure I didn't look like a heffelump walking in them. I asked Papa Bear but really I needed a women's opinion. Crazy Mamas to the rescue! Just one of the millions of times it comes in handy to have 9 great friends willing and able to help with just about anything at any given time.

I went to "The Young, Blonde Wannabe"'s house first and strutted across her hardwood. Looks good she told me. OK...but I wanted to be REALLY sure...just in case. Next I went to "Chesty McBreasty"'s (she is probably the closest I know to a high heel expert) and paraded around her living room. With her approval I was finally convinced that I was ready to make my public high heel debut.

I continued to practise for the last few days before the wedding and then the day of I slipped on my spectacular red footwear, felt the "power surge" and cautiously headed out.

At the end of the night I had several blisters (mostly due to the extremely rainy wet weather) and a new sense of accomplishment. That's one small step for any women, one giant (sexified) leap for Slightlyinsanestacey.