Browsing Posts published in July, 2010

It has become well known, my favourite day of the week is Vera day, the day my dusty, dirty, untidy rooms get swept, mopped, wiped, squeegeed and shined…ahhhh Vera day.

Having a cleaning lady is a luxury I simply can’t live without. Climbing into Vera-bed when our sheets are tucked tightly under the mattress, pillows fluffed, the comforter feels ten times bigger than it was before she arrived, our shoes look more acceptable neatly lined up across the all-weather carpet, my plants are less dead than 24 hours earlier, heaven.

Vera day however comes at a price…a big one. Continue reading “Batting Clean-Up……” »

We have had great success with bike riding this summer and I couldn’t be happier. Our biggest concern now is fastening our four year olds’ helmet without being deafened by her shrieks when we accidentally pinch the skin under her chin in the clasp.

The yelping is merely a first response to a lengthy puppy whimpering campaign of moaning, groaning and general distaste for whoever was responsible for inflicting the most painful injury she has experienced to date.

First Daddy pinched her and was forbidden to EVER do up her helmet for at least a month. She would approach a random person on the street before letting him go near her and would run when he motioned to quickly grab the two pieces that when separated, hang innocently from her ears but together, transform into a painful weapon.

Then yesterday, I pinched her. She shifted from side to side crossing her fingers begging, “please don’t pinch, don’t pinch, don’t pinch, don’t pinch” chanting the entire time I was gearing up to close the clasp.

I thought I had room, I thought her finger in the way was proof there was at least a finger thickness of breathing room, an Adam’s apple size space surrounding her neck but I was dead wrong and I have heard about nothing else since.

“Ellie, please come to the table for dinner.”

Hands wrapped around her neck as though without the mittens of her fingers, gripping a Cinderella ice pack, she would be unable to walk. “I’ll come but my neck really hurts so I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat. It hurts my neck to swallow.”

“Ellie, it’s time for a bath.”

“Okay, but don’t get my neck wet, it will hurt too much.” Yes that sudsy warm water can be brutal.

“Ellie, time for p.j.’s”

“Do we have any with buttons because I don’t think I can pull anything over my head in case my neck moves where you pinched it with my helmet?” Oh right the helmet incident, I had forgotten.

“What stories are we reading tonight?” I ask.

“I hope it’s not something about a sore neck because that would just make me sadder.”

“Let’s brush our teeth.”

“Okay, but I can only brush in the front because I can’t turn my neck………..” Yes, because of the injury.

“Can I sleep on my back all night because when I sleep on my side, my sore neck scrapes against the pillow?” Oh dear, what part bothers your neck injury most, the angora wool side or the 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton side?

Daddy is back to being helmet hero and brace yourself, I have been placed on the need not apply list.

Every so often, a product comes into my life that I feel justified in promoting. It either makes my life easier, more enjoyable or enhances some aspect of my world. The diaper genie though it has had its challenges, steeped tea at Tim Horton’s which eliminated the lengthy wait and unbalanced flavour from the cup so hot you couldn’t touch, and introduced a few years ago, Absolut Ruby Red grapefruit vodka, served with tonic water and the juice squeezed from a fresh lime, my favourite summer cocktail.

It was brought to my attention early last week when a friend was shopping for a bottle of her own prior to a week away at a cottage, she was told at the check-out that Absolut’s Ruby Red grapefruit vodka had been discontinued. I was immediately notified by my friend, we dropped everything and began to busily devise a plan. Continue reading “The Hunt for Red is over……” »

We had some kids pop in this evening after dinner. Well, it was after our dinner, not theirs. At 7pm you would assume most people with young children have had a meal or at least a few appetizers but that doesn’t seem to stop kids from asking “anything ta eat?” the second they arrive on Schlotzhauer soil.

I used to be confused by this behaviour but my own kids are the guiltiest of all.

We could be roaming the neighbourhood, riding our bikes, looking at swans in a pond but the minute a new person enters the scene, their minds are on how to bilk them out of some sort of snack or beverage.

Does food taste better when served by someone else? I know that’s true of sandwiches. Does another person’s bottled water taste smoother, cleaner, cooler?

Kids will go back to the same cookie jar if they know it is open. I made the mistake early on of serving lemonade when kids dropped in and like Pavlovian puppies, they began to sourly salivate the second crocs met driveway. Continue reading “Anything ta eat?………………” »

Ellie: Mommy, when I get married, will you be one of my purple girls? (bridesmaids)

Me: Absolutely, I may insist on it

Hanna: Do you spell gummies with an “s” or a “z”?

Me: An “s”

Ellie: I’m going to ask you to wear tights because I really love tights. Can purple girls wear tights because the purple girls at Uncle Scott and Aunt Amy’s wedding just had shoes?

Me: Deal

Hanna: Are you sure? Gummies, gummies, gum-eez, GUM-EEZ, it’s a “z” Mommy.

Ellie: Where do I buy a long dress?

Me: From the bridal boutique

Ellie: Will there be any long dresses left at the store for me when I get married?

Me: You will have your pick of thousands Ellie

Hanna: What does it mean to parallel park?

Ellie: Mommy, why did Amy dance with her Dad at the beginning? Can I dance with you?

Hanna: When you die, do you have any teeth?

We have just completed the family wedding weekend and simply put, I am pooped.

I had planned to write about all of the wonderful speeches, the memories of my 89 year old Grandmother smiling and enjoying the day, the humidity that took its best shot at ruining all of the women’s make-up and exposing my rather interesting, unsightly yet entertaining, saturated undergarments, seeing my baby brother as a grown-up for the very first time, welcoming a fabulous new sister-in-law into the family but I just can’t stop thinking about those legs.

Several of the young women in attendance had legs so small, I couldn’t believe the twigs could support their bodies and walk around. I was fascinated watching the girls actually move on them and in heels to boot! It was as though two thin rods hoisted up their torsos with an encasement of sun-kissed skin and off the “legs” would walk. The practice and dedication of that balancing act will continue to, ahem, stump me.

I asked my brothers if there was ever a time in my life when my legs were that tiny. Not even at birth was their unanimous response.

I did manage to wear my silver dress after having it let out which incidentally is an ingenious way of maintaining the size as indicated on the label and being the only one who knows the size is as fake as those stilts the young girls are dancing on. With the help of a rather complex contraption holding things flat and in place underneath, three of us managed to get the zipper done up. It was noted that it may not have another zip left so I was to keep myself contained and move as little as possible. Done.

I kept my bathroom breaks to a minimum but did have to make the trek twice. Small stall, unreasonably tight dress, unfathomably high underwear added a series of challenges to each visit. How I rolled it all back up, smoothed the dress back down, remembered to breathe through this exercise will have to remain my private business. I’m just glad my legs were strong enough to hold me up.

My young girls were mesmerized by the bridal party and as if they were selecting a favourite character on a lunch box, they would get as close as possible to the girls, just close enough to be invading their personal space and tell Greg and I, in their outdoor voices, which one was their “favourite” by pointing to her in the line-up. Thankfully, they are too young to view women as objects.

I stopped breast feeding on Tuesday, earlier in the week. I thought this would give me enough time to get over the pain, it didn’t. I thought it would give me enough time to prevent leaking, it didn’t. I thought it would suck the life out of my rather full looking breasts allowing me to slide back into my clothes without incident, it didn’t and maybe that last one wasn’t so bad.

A relative of the bride approached me and asked if I was a dancer. I’m pretty sure she meant stripper, a chesty assumption but one that won’t exist much longer so maybe I should take it as a compliment.

Maybe it was my legs?

Ellie: Mommy, what spells l-p-m-u-r-c-j?

Me (interrupting): You mean, what does..xyz spell?

Ellie: What does xyz spell?

Me: XYZ does not spell anything

Ellie: What spells..

Me: What does….spell?

Ellie: What does spell p-q-j-r-n-v?

Me: What does p-q-j-r-n-v spell?

Ellie (not interested in my answer or the correction): What spells v-q-p-e-r?

Me: v-q-p-e-r spells vqper

Ellie: What spells….

Me: What DOES blank blank blank spell?

Ellie: What does blank blank blank spell?

Me: Who’s on first?

Ellie: What spells…does…spell…spells….does……A-C-R-E?

Me: Acre

Ellie: What does spell L-A-N-D?

Me: Land (now she’s clearly looking at a flyer about cash-cropping or buying acreage and is no longer pulling letters out of the air but doesn’t want me to know)

The girls think I’m fluent in several languages and as their mother, I’ve been able to get away with making up quite a bit over the years. They thought I was a genius for translating horse, cat and table into French. Thanks OAC French class.

After three simple requests, Ellie asked me the following expecting an answer and expecting one fast.

Ellie: Mommy, how do you say, jewel of the desert?

A picture is worth a thousand words Ellie.

Now here’s a weight loss product that really has some teeth.

I was reading an article about SmartBite at the hair salon in a popular health magazine.

It claimed the following; SmartBite is some sort of mouth guard not unlike a “grade school retainer” inserted into your mouth to “change how you eat, not what you eat.”

Hmmmm

Change how you eat. In other words, make eating so incredibly painful or uncomfortable, you don’t want to do it anymore, thus, dramatically losing weight? Does SmartBite rest against your gag reflex? Or, do you simply find new ways to eat, for example, liquefying your foods thus spiking straw sales and removing the pleasurable part of eating from the table. Change how you eat. I guess eating the way we have for generations is simply no longer working. Perhaps products like these would encourage you to snort your food instead since your mouth is filled with some sort of guard.

For a mere $495, SmartBite can be yours. At least the price is right.

I’m picturing women out on a first date and subtly sliding in their retainers to keep them from eating too quickly or “wolfing” down food as the website suggests. I think the wolf image is a good one because I’m imagining a jaw lengthening device made from gnarled metal and plastic making your mouth rather unsavoury.

I’m not sure how much it costs to have ones jaw wired shut but wouldn’t that be equally as effective and likely less expensive?

“Your efforts to lose weight have failed because (this is unbelievable) you like to eat.” I thought food was one of the basic necessities required to live. Of course we like it. The same way we like having a roof over our heads and clothing. Is this product suggesting you will lose weight if we make you stop liking food? Why would anyone sign up to stop liking food?

“SmartBite is yours to keep with no maintenance or ongoing costs.”

That is a relief. I was worried when the last person returned it due to the absurdity of the product it got thrown into a bin and sold to me.

On a positive note, it is Canadian. Something we can truly be proud of.

The girls “invented” a new game to play while in the car. The rules are simple. Someone thinks of an animal and everyone takes turns asking yes or no questions until we can guess the animal.

Ellie has played the game dozens of times and convinced us today that she had a rare animal that could potentially stump us all.

After several minutes, narrowing it down;

Is it a farm animal? No.

Is it a zoo animal? No.

Does it live at African Lion Safari? No.

Does it live somewhere cold? Does it have fur? Is it a meat eater?

We determined that it lived in the ocean, was bigger than Chloe but smaller than Daddy. It may or may not have tentacles. It did not have eight legs, it was not a man-eater and did not sting when provoked. She was not willing to rule out the fact that it may or may not have teeth. It was not a mermaid or a swimming unicorn. It was not in any animated movies she had ever seen but that did not preclude the option of it ever being in a cartoon movie or short. We rhymed off every living thing we could think of while Ellie gazed off into space until she finally asked, “Give up?” and we all agreed it was time for her grand unveiling.

“I forget.”

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