Browsing Posts published in May, 2010

Spring has sprung and it has been unseasonably hot. For my husband, this means, dirty, rotten, hot diaper season in the garage garbage bin, a couple of weeks early.

We don’t notice the stench of two day old poopy diapers nearly as much in the cold winter. The frost keeps the smell at bay and the maximum six day stay in the garage before the following week’s pick-up is not all that offensive.

This week, the sun has been shining through the garage windows and the humidity has created a vacuum of stink that hits you the minute you open the man door from the house into the garage. Continue reading “Diaper Genie…” »

There’s really no time for writing this weekend as I decided instead to get my hair cut and coloured for the first time since the “Rachel.”

It felt wonderful sitting back, inhaling the fumes from the dye, catching up on some small-town gossip and not worrying (okay, worrying a lot) about how Greg would fare alone with the three girls for the first time.

I started reading a magazine about health and beauty and was instantly drawn to a recipe for triple chocolate chip cookies. I guess I forgot the magazine’s title had the word “health” in a pretty prominent place and perhaps shouldn’t have been quite so surprised the triple chocolate chip cookies had little to no chocolate in them and a lot of triple fudging the ingredients. What the recipe did call for however was a can of beans, rinsed and drained. I guess without the rinsing and draining, you might actually taste the beans? Or maybe the secret to the magic beans was somewhere in the rinse cycle, they started to taste like chocolate. Continue reading “Master of Disguise…” »

I bought danishes today. I’ve never bought danishes in my entire adult life although as a kid, I remember begging for them at the grocery store with my mom who never caved, not even once and she had four kids, not three. I grew up in a house where homemade zucchini cake was considered decadent and white vitamin C pills were spread under our Gentle Rain health food store peanut butter over whole grain toast.

We finished Ellie’s swimming lesson and I had Hanna and Chloe with me cheering her on. Hanna had been home from school and perhaps it was a combination of her being sick last week and having her home now for the fifth straight day, Chloe not napping while at the pool which usually has me sweating buckets wondering if today will be the day I have to nurse her on deck in front of the pervy dads with nothing better to do than take a peek. Continue reading “Danishes….” »

I’ve become a shusher rivalling librarians the world over. It’s not a badge I wear proudly, it’s just who I’ve become. When the baby is almost drifting off after eleven straight hours of awake time, fifty twirls of the giant wooden cube, being tossed back and forth between the bouncy chair and the stationary chair, in and out of the bjorn carrier countless times, bathed, bicycle legged, exersaucered and anything else I can possibly drum up that could keep a baby from crying, I begin my shushing routine.  When Hanna and Ellie shout at each other that someone isn’t being fair, I shush. When one of them tattles that the other was shouting and was the reason for said shushing, I shush. When they squeal with delight as they play the crossing sisters which is a game where they run in opposite directions around the family room ottoman and ultimately smash head first into one another, I shush. When they chew too loudly, I shush. I wonder if they shush in heaven when you chew? When their markers streak their construction paper too roughly, I shush. When they tear toilet paper from the roll, I shush. When the water jug makes an untimely glug, I shush. Sometimes I shush when the baby is wide awake and nowhere near ready to fall asleep because it’s become a word in my vocabulary, unfortunately, my most commonly used word. I’ve started shushing the baby, my husband, the doorbell, the phone and the alarm clock. I even glare at the intensity of the water as it gushes from the showerhead and question, why couldn’t you be a little quieter? I shush my eyelashes, I shush my typing fingers, I shush Oprah’s overly exuberant applauding audience, I shush the mute button when it’s in effect. I S-H-U-S-H!!!! With Jaws-like ferocity when the phone rings and it’s my husband calling from his downstairs home office to ask what we’re having for lunch.

My daughter is learning about being the third wheel, the odd man (girl) out, three’s a crowd at a very young age.

I asked her who she played with at recess yesterday and she said, “My friend, Mr. Caterpillar.” She didn’t seem upset or disappointed the other girls had told her she couldn’t play princess because she simply “wasn’t a princess” and another friend telling her she would be happy to talk to her on the bus but once they got within the school boundaries, she was no longer her friend, until of course, tomorrow’s bus ride.

As a parent, it’s heartbreaking when your child is left out of the group and has to find a caterpillar to entertain her on those breaks between dissecting a human cadaver and philosophy 101.

I can’t get too worked up over a couple of days she’s not included. I guess it’s just her turn.

About a month ago, she came home with a drawing of several kids playing and laughing and then a group off to the side, in a cage, crying with sad faces drawn below them. She explained those were the kids that weren’t part of the “club.” Are they really already forming cliques in grade one? And I’m glad I asked for an explanation of her rendering because she gets her drawing abilities from me and I thought it was clowns riding cheetahs through a forest of gummy worms. Continue reading “The Very Hungry Caterpillar…on Tuesday he ate through one camera…” »

I was walking through the grocery store yesterday morning, trying to get my footing as I am not yet used to wearing sandals for the season.

I was instantly reminded of a time in University when my then boyfriend, now husband convinced me to buy Doc Martin boots, assuring me they would be the most comfortable pair of boots I ever owned and he was also able to convince me they were fashionable.

I tried my hardest to wear those boots and having spent a great deal of money, on a student’s income, I wasn’t able to go and buy a second pair of boots so I was stuck, trekking from my rented, basement apartment to the building where I sometimes attended classes. I convinced my classmates the tears streaming down my face resulted from the cold, bitter winter winds and not that my feet had swelled to the size of watermelons and the blisters had burst puss and blood all over my socks. Continue reading “Maximize your step….” »

We can never spend a weekend on the beach without thinking back to a simpler time, a time when eating a whole fruit ‘n nut bar rather than just three frozen squares a day was acceptable, a time when this dining room table was awesome.
Continue reading “The Gift of Time…” »

 Car-seat baby checks out the waves….

For all of our adventures on the beach, the glorious sandy walks, the sparkling sun reflecting off of the lake, watching our kids one year older, several inches taller, more comfortable around the water, Ellie saying, “could someone please pass me the darn-tootin ketchup?” nothing could compare to the girls real life treasure hunt in their fort on the bunk-beds.

They came streaking down the hallway to announce they had found something underneath the bunk-beds in their room. They claimed it was a real, human tooth. After close inspection, we determined, it was. It was a child’s tooth that did not make it into the vacuum on the last buzz around the room.

While I was initially completely grossed out, I saw the amazement in the girl’s faces and they were thrilled to find something that represented a major boost on the children’s stock exchange.  A form of currency that would be difficult to strip them of.  

They immediately fought over whose pillow they would place the tooth under tonight thus, duping the tooth-fairy into giving them money.

We explained the tooth fairy would not be coming as she knew the tooth they were leaving for her had already been paid for and she never paid for the same tooth twice, in fact, this is where the double jeopardy rule originated and that is why you can’t be tried for the same crime twice. The girls were less interested in that second half of the explanation but sometimes we parents get carried away.

I also didn’t think it necessary to dole out $2 when I have expressed my disapproval over the going rate for teeth. It seems the prices went up with the housing market and have yet to level off.

I don’t know what the future will bring tonight, I do wonder if the poor child who lost the tooth in the first place was devastated because they were unable to leave it for the tooth fairy or, if it was the tooth fairy herself who lost the tooth and left it behind.

Regardless, I likely won’t be getting any writing done tonight, there’s a small, hard lump under my pillow.

  The girls collected a series of feathers from the beach yesterday and had me dig them a hole so clearly, I didn’t get a chance to do any writing.

The hole was dug for one obvious reason, to plant the feathers and grow a feather tree.

I did not have the heart to tell them that feather trees simply won’t grow, planted in a pile of sand on the beach. They only thrive in moist, clay conditions.

“We could have peacock feather branches!”

“With rainbows!” (when Ellie is excited she often shouts something about rainbows.)

Why they thought a hundred, dirty seagull feathers could produce a tree with plumes from a peacock is adorable (and crazy).

I was thinking down. We could over-produce, keep the “giving tree” ripe with goose feathers and sell, sell, SELL!!!

Peacock feathers? Where’s their entrepreneurial spirit?

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