Day at Dentist

 
    I woke up this morning with the full knowledge that today was going to suck.  Why would I be so pessimistic at 7am (well beside the point optimism doesn't happen until the number on my clock ends in PM)?  Simple-I had a dentist appointment-with a dentist-involving filling my teeth-from holes created by candy (apparently they add holes to your belt as well).  Even for those cups half full people, I think they'd find it hard to spin getting cavities filled as a fun Friday activity.  Anyways, any visit to the dentist isn't a good thing-  I've turned that age where every time I go there's an issue.  And today there was an issue, well two ones.  Since the day was already a scratch I had candy for breakfast-thank you for not pointing out the fundamental flaw in this logic.  After running through a list of things I'd rather do instead (including dragging my butt across hot coals-the same feeling I get after I eat at Boston Pizza) I put on my big girl pants and dragged myself there.  Okay fine, technically it was my mom who did the dragging.  Her only comforting words were "at least it's an hour without the kids".  Seriously? Are my kids that bad...okay don't answer that question...
  So whats the back story? Besides being a mentally well adjusted person who dislikes paying good money to have that awkward flossing conversation while someone puts instruments in your mouth while asking you questions, I am nervous around dentists.  Scratch that- I am terrified CRAPLESS of dentists.  Don't get me wrong, my dentist-he's a nice guy, I just think he's a little drill happy.  I'm not sure where this fear came from, it's not like I've even had an incident where I was in a lot of pain.  I think half of it is the sound and smell and the weird sensation that while you're numb you still feel things moving and pulling.  I mean I have a pretty high threshold for pain.   I gave birth 3 times with no pain killers whatsoever.  But honestly it's a different kind of pain.  When you deliver a baby you expect to get a healthy baby after so the pain has a purpose.  The dentist? you're lucky if you get a plastic ring (I still remember the age when I got cut off from getting toys-tragic day).  Most time you're lucky to get flavored fluoride rinse before they hand you a bill which may or may not involve trading in your first born.
     So I get there and get ushered into the small examination room.  My dentist's office remains a relic from the 1970s.  I expect during one of my visits a tour group will walk by examining the history of dentistry.  The first thing the dentist asks me is "what are we doing today?".  This is sort of scary-I mean shouldn't he know this?  I didn't nap through 3 years of dental school and really? if it was up to me I'd be going to McDonalds.  So I gave him an honest answer-"I'm going to poo myself.  I hope you have a better gameplan" The dentist finally clued in that this all might be easier if he gave me an ambien-a good idea since I flinch even when they spray water in my mouth-just in case it hurts.  I took it and when he returned he asked how I was feeling to which my response was along the lines of "screw this cavity! lets hit a club".  However there are no clubs open in Maple Ridge at 11am and I still have holes in my teeth.  Anyways they leave me in the room with a mouthful of freezing and a drug that magically removes the amounts of cares I have to give. To make matters worse they turn on the ceiling TV.  At this office they always have National Geographic show playing and SURPRISE this one was all about jumping spiders! So here I am in a small examination room, a little high and now watching jumping spiders on the ceiling in HD quality.  Well I think it did the trick doctor, I forgot about my cavities for a moment.  I ended up waiting in that small room for an hour.  While I waited I got to enjoy the best magazines and celebrity gossip from the early 90s.  Naw, I'm only joking there were a few that talked about Russel Brand and Katy Perry's upcomming wedding.  Anyways I'd see ads for TV shows and get interested until I discovered they were already cancelled years ago.
  So finally after an hour the dentist comes in and by that time I've worked myself into believing he's going to remove all my teeth.  He comes in and in under 20minutes he's done.  All the while I'm listening to him complain that he hired a mechanic to fix the dental chairs and they're telling him to replace them.  Umm... these chairs looked old in the 70s, maybe the guy has a point?  Watch, next time I'll be lying on lawn chairs.
Anyways I survived and don't have to go back until April.  However my bottom teeth on the other side are having sympathy pain.

Date Night

Enjoying a drink but still thinking about my kids: not because I miss them but because I'm worried about the revenge they will have on me for not including them

Dave amd I got to do something last night we don't often get the opportunity to do: spend some time away from the kids.  Actually it's something I don't get to do often, Dave gets an 8 hour break everyday when he goes to something called work.  Anyways we had a date night, four blissful hours where I didn't have to play name that liquid on my shirt (hint:  the answer is almost always pee).  We were invited to an grown up function with grown ups at an grown up restaurant which didn't have tablecloths you could write on.
  Date nights are always risky business.  I mean they usually happen at the end of the week so we're walking the thin line between date night and fight club. 
 Before the date night can even begin there are certain hurtles that one must get through:

• Getting Ready:  Date night often comes with a dress code and men and women often have different ideas in regard to it.   I don't think I'm the only woman who can attest that their husband almost never wants to dress up.  They'd rather show up in sweats-actually if it was socially acceptable they'd probaly go out to dinner in their underwear.  Me on the other hand would prefer to wear something fancy.  This is because I don't get out often and when I do I'm usually in yoga pants that while have never have seen the gym are still quite good at stretching-around my butt of course!  Once you come to an agreement on the dress code dilemma that excludes any awkward incidents of showing up to the restaurant with you in a ballgown and your husband in cut off shorts, one must execute the act of actually getting dressed.  Trying to find something to wear is often a feat in itself.  For me I have to create an outfit using articles that have no stains on them and is not a throw back to the era before you had kids since that was around the same time you stopped buying clothes or buying them at the same place you buy your produce.  Lets not forget the toddler who is running around and the baby screaming because heaven forbid he hasn't eaten in 5minutes.  My carpet is nicely painted with my MAC eyeshadow.  Also as I was curling my hair Lily was rolling Joe down the hallway..
• Next comes the complement: Let's face it the chances of the husband getting this correct is slim to none.  In fact for the husband it's dead man walking because if he says the wrong word then date night ends early with him on the couch.  Dave has yet to mastered the simple phrase "your hair looks nice", apparently even in the face of mortal danger my husband cannot lie.  Lets give you the background story: I use to have long hair and Dave loved it.  After Joe came around I got tired of looking homeless since I barley could find the time to brush it let alone style it.  Fed up I choped it short and quite frankly I don't think Dave has forgiven me for that yet.  Anyways whle I love my short hair for the day-to-day life, I have diffculty making it look fancy.  There is only so much you can do with short hair so I'm always fishing for a complement.  The best Dave could give me last night? You look like Jamie Lee Curtis.  Really? That's the best you can do?  What's the first thing you think of when you hear her name? The bowel health yogurt. When someone asks you to name a hot actress would Jamie Lee Curtis be the first name that pops in your head?  He said from her True Lies days, okay one foot out of the grave except the fact she played a boring homely housewife.  Great, exactly the look I was going for.  I could have saved myself an hour of prep time and just went as myself.  So I told Dave he looked dashing-like Matlock.
• Finally, the kid drop off.  This is very important because you have to convince the unsuspecting grandparents that in fact your kids are not thugs.  This is an art form in itself since you have to make sure to drop them off when they're not cranky.  Of course it will be the one time when Lily actually wants to hang out with me.  The most important final step to this is turning off the cell phone, yes the restaurant is in a tunnel with no reception....

  When you finally get to your destination you feel a bit...lost.  In fact I saw something I don't usually: my bare forearm.  Infact I barley reconized it without a blankie, diaperbag or toddler drapped over it.  Once inside the restaurant, you have to relearn how to socialize at the grown up table.  It took a while to relax, with a toddler you learn to sleep with one eye open.  That and when you see someone reach across the table your kneejerk reaction is to grab any sharp cutlery away or try to stop the person from hitting the closest person because in the toddler world those are the first things you do when in a group situation.  You also don't want to talk too much about your kids either since you don't want to admit that you've become "one of those" even thought I clearly am.  However get a few drinks in me and I'm ready to jam out to the latest club track, which I'm assuming is still wheels on the bus.  Dave and I actually got to our function 30minuties early-so we had an opportunity to have some alone time.  This was spent trying to convince each other that we were still as fun and exciting as when we first met without admitting that it was 7pm and we were both ready for bed or that we were missing the latest antics of our reality shows.    
    Finally there comes the time when you have to reach that decision that it is time to go home.  It usually involves calculating when your parents have safely tucked the kids in bed.  So that was our excitement this weekend.  Seriously I barley remember life before kids, I'm assuming it's much like life before facebook-you use to go out a lot more often.

Supermom

   We live in the age of the so-called Supermom.  If size zero models are the media's way to tell us to put down the Twinkies in order to be perfect then the supermoms are the media's way of telling us how parent in order to keep CPS off our doorsteps. 
Supermoms can do it all.  It started off as being defined as: 

A mom who takes on the selfless and unconditional responsibility to nurture the emotional and physical well-being of her kids.

Which makes sense except for the selfless and unconditional responsibility part.  I mean I skipped out of Strong Start the other day so I could get coffee...but its Pumpkin Spice season, it's a seasonal flavor people!  However this definition has morphed into an even bigger monster: supermoms now are expected to cook, clean, take care of the kids, run errands, help with school projects all with get this: a smile on their face.  Not to be confused with Superdads which is basically any man that knows how to make a bottle and insert it correctly into baby.  Supermom's never roll their eyes at mother goose songs, refuse to take their child to strong start until her second cup of coffee or change the ending of four little ducks to them getting put into a happy meal (that will teach them for going over the hill and far away).  They mix education with fun and add in some organic apple sauce, handmade of course.  Their kids don't eat worms and most certainty don't dump sand on other kids in the playground and if they did she certainly wouldn't laugh and say "yeah kids will do that".  Plus I'm pretty sure they've never been recognized at the McDonald's drive thru.    
   Just like the gazelle legged model on page seven, the Supermom is pretty unrealistic.  Just Google supermom and you'll come up with scary articles about how mothers are more stressed out nowadays and are having trouble coping. Did I mention because of that Supermom comes with her sidekick Mommy Guilt?  Oh you know her, she's the one that "tsk tsks" you when you're watching Secret Princes instead of Baby Einstein or shuns you when your 20month old can say McDonald's perfectly because you've stopped for happy meals at least twice in the past week....
  To be honest, this post isn't about Supermoms, it's about her nemesis Mediocre Mom.  Step in me.  I love my kids, I love being a parent but I think its unrealistic to be expected to do everything perfectly.  Motherhood is a full time job with very bad hours.  On the 16th hour of your shift in any given job you are going to get frustrated when your toddler looks at you defiantly while dumping her dinner on the floor.  And I personally couldn't say "lets make this an educational experience and turn the spilled pasta into quadratic equations" (more like lets count mommie's eye twitches).  I honestly got exhausted when I was looking up definitions and came across this list this one lady compiled.  I'd link it, however I'm scared she would hunt me down with a homemade bow and arrow.  Lets just say it involved doing your laundry while your baby was in something called a sling! Whatever happened to good ol'fashioned days of yelling at your husband to turn his underwear inside out to get another days use out of it? And if I'm doing laundry I'm certainly not taking the little one on a magical educational journey of how a washer works, if anything we're discussing how the unpaid economy of being a housewife sorta sucks.  Did I mention that in the post, said sling was purchased on ebay? I smell a borderline hippy..My cooking isn't from scratch either.  My specialty dish comes from the frozen food asile and I couldn't let my kids cook with me because due to strong language it would be PG-13.  A subset of the supermom is the helicopter parent.  These are parents that hover over their children, ensuring they don't miss an opportunity.  These parent's are perfect if you're tired and need a nap-you just dump your child in their vicinity and pretend to concentrate real hard at the wall and POOF free childcare.  I guess I should get down to my point since I'm tired and you know I'm on call tonight-My advice to all the stressed out mommy's out there- relax, be a little more mediocre, we all know that all the organic, free-range, handblended applesauce in the world won't save your kids from being snarky teenagers. I mean we should as mothers recognise that its okay to be selfish as long as your kids are not wearing plastic bags for shoes because you spent all your money on booze and McDonalds.  And honestly its okay not to smile to "the wheels on the bus".  I don't know about you but I relish the day they invent hover cars so I don't have to listen about those wheels going round and round.


Seriously, I doubt the Supermom is part of a union, if so she would be in trouble for stealing everyone else's job..

Just checking in...

downfall of distracted parenting

 The draft of this blog was written while I was sitting on the toilet.  Yes, I'm serious, no I'm not doing...that.  Lily's having a bath and I have lifeguard duty.  I've been wanting to write a blog entry for a day or two now but nothing really out of the ordinary has happened.  Just status quo.  Yeah I've been busy but nothing really that funny has occurred and since this isn't twitter I just can't list what I ate today, since this isn't Facebook I can't tell you where I ate the food and since this isn't instagram I can't take a picture of what I ate and pass it off as an entry.  I've been going to Strong Start regularly or as I'm calling it this week "toddler fight club" but there is only so much I can touch on that subject, plus isn't one of the rules of fight club is that you can't talk about it.  I wouldn't know, I'll admit it right here that I have never seen the movie myself.  Unless it features a real housewife or a zany penguin in it, chances are I haven't seen it.
  But back to writing this:  I'm in our cramped bathroom that smells like used kitty litter and I have to pause every few seconds to remind my toddler of the dangers of standing up in the bath.  Does this count as "me" time or do I get partial credit for trying?  I mean when you have two demanding kids under 2 there is little time to stop and smell the roses before one of them stomps on them because some kid taught them that's what you do with flowers.  Finding time for yourself becomes as challenging as trying to remove your child from the swing at the park: not impossible but you have to be pretty sneaky (and have snacks, toddlers love snacks).  Being a parent is awesome but it doesn't leave much downtime, sometimes you have to sacrifice your old needs for a little while.  I've slowly begun to learn that you have to find moments in your day to claim as your own or at least share with your child.
  Some may say that I'm doing the worst thing: stealing time from my toddler and I should be dedicated to the task at hand and not my own selfish needs.  First of all, are you one of the managers I use to work with that use to lecture us on time theft? Second of all parenting, is a 16hour a day job (if you're lucky enough to have a child that sleeps) with 24/7 on-call responsibilities.  As someone who used to have a job, I know that even in a 8hour day we find little ways to claim time as our own.  So I'm writting instead of reciting alebra equations while teaching my toddler French while she has a bath, you're probaly suppose to be making me a latte but instead you're checking your facebook, same thing...
  I tried to do my blog writing after the kids went to bed.   By the time Jo-Jo was asleep, I'd have 30mins of me time because I wanted to get to bed at a decent time so that I didn't resemble a cast member of the walking dead in the morning.  So here I am multitasking. 
Now if you exuse me, I have to get back to work, Lily is trying to use the soaker tub incline as a slide.

Grocery Shocking

  I'm desperately trying to delay the inevitable but I know it all too well-it is time.  Our shelves are bare and I'm debating whether to make some rice with ketchup or pina colda mix since those are the only ingredients we have on hand.  It is time to do the chore I hate most-grocery shopping.  Being told to go grocery shopping is like when you're working and the manager tells you they just kicked a hobo out of the customer washroom and get your gloves because you better go check it out.  Yes grocery shopping, it seems like no matter how much food we buy we always end up eating it.  I'm seriously thinking we should pick up an eating disorder to cut back on the amount of times we have to do it.  Grocery shopping makes anything else seem enjoyable.  When I need to get a cavity filled, I think I will go grocery shopping first so I have something to look forward to afterwards.
     Back in the day when I was single, grocery shopping was so much simpler.  Well, since I'm being perfectly honest I lived at home until I was 25 so most of my grocery shopping was at my mom's pantry.  Actually scratch that, a bulk of my grocery shopping is STILL done at my mom's pantry (I have no idea why your Costco bill is so high mom and if you're reading this please disregard the above paragraph...).  However I still did some grocery shopping on my own, mostly because my mom didn't buy the foods a refined palate such as mine required-such as cookie crisp cereal, redbull and Doritos.  When I did go grocery shopping it was almost a novelty, it would take me under 10minutes to grab the fixings for mac and cheese and instant noodles.  I would laugh at the worn down looking mom pushing a mammoth cart with a screaming toddler hanging from her ankle as I skipped down to the cashier and paid for my diet cola and cookie dough.   
  Those days are long gone.  Grocery shopping has now mutated into a biweekly (if I can help it) ritual of torture.  Now we're feeding 3 people and I'm head of the feed-everyone-make-everyone-happy committee. I not only have to cook the meals that are different and exciting but make sure that my family is not surviving off ketchup packages.  Let me explain the process...  
    Before I can even step into the store I have to do the list.  The premise is quite simple, when you're running low on an item, you add it to the list conveniently located on the fridge.  The list is a great way to remain organized and it ensures you're never standing in the frozen food section muttering "need more frozen pizza".  In theory it works wonders, in theory.  In practice it  is a complete work of fiction made up of items you wish you had in your fridge during the midnight snack hour.  I never keep it updated and if I run out of something I end up promising myself I'll remember to add it to the list later (which is never conveniently on the fridge like it is suppose to be care of Lily).  As you can guess the items never make it to the list and I end up winging it which is why there are currently 10 bottles of BBQ sauce in our fridge.  For some unexplainable reason I think we are forever out of BBQ sauce. Dave also has a bad habit of taking the last of something and leaving the empty container in the pantry.  Which means that unless I open the box and do a count I never know for sure if we're out or running low.  Sometimes I do practice what I preach and compile a beautiful supply list.  However this list is almost always forgotten and I end up scribbling what I can remember on a crumpled up napkin on my way to the grocery store to buy some more BBQ sauce since surely we must be out.  On weeks I'm feeling really energized I compile a dinner meal plan.  The meal plan consists of me trying to get Dave to suggest meals he wants other than the standard "something good" and "whatever" fare (which he demands every week).  It also is suppose to help cut the grocery bill because you're only buying what you need, avoiding waste.  However it doesn't take in account the nights we say "screw this" and order pizza letting our good intentions go moldy at the bottom of the vegetable crisper.
  Next step is actually getting to the store.  Preferably on a Sunday (the busiest time), at night and when the kids are the most cranky or tired.  If you can't make it for Sunday our second choice appears to be Wedensday, the day before restocking so the produce is nice and spongy and the store looks like it was hit by a hurricane and then backed over by a B.A.T for good measure.  I have tried very hard to find the sweet spot to go grocery shopping.  Seriously it is a formula more complex then a quadraic equation.  It goes something like this:

• 2 Kids (wellfed+good mood) + grocery shop (quiet+sales/anyday but Sunday or Wednesday)+daytime=stress free experience

Now because I am bad at math we end up following this formula:

•  2 kids (tired+cranky*hyper)+just before bedtime+ Sunday (store busy+produce rotten+out of stock)-sanity-patience=Typical shopping experience

Regardless of how much planning I do, it always seems like we're back at the shop on Sunday trying to decide which stock of celery is less brown and if we can subsitue our usual brand of yogurt with sourcream and add chocolate quick mix to flavor it.
    Now grocery shopping is a family event.  Mostly because Dave has to be there to use his discount card and he also is the driver.  I tag along because if he went alone he'd return with ice cream, a loaf of bread and BBQ sauce because surely this time we must be out.  The kids come along because the government looks down at leaving them at the apartment under the watchful eye of the cat with a bowl of water on the ground and the TV on.  The problem with Dave coming along is he increases the price of our grocery bill.  I'm cheap, I'll buy just the basics, but Dave will go all crazy and buy things like strawberries.  Seriously I have to audit what goes in our cart.  Strawberries?  I hope you're working overtime this week!  Now you didn't forget about the children did you?  Don't think they're little cherubs sitting in the cart with their hands in their lap.  Lily is watching everything going into the cart and demanding a bite then freaking out when you try to explain the criminal code and why we can't just eat something without paying for it.  When she's not trying to open a package she's dumping items out of the cart making this whole exercise counterproductive.  She also likes to try to launch herself out of the cart or grab things as we pass by laughing hysteically as she toppels a row of canned tomatos.  Joe is will usually sleep through most of the trip only to snap away when we get to the cashir and demand to be fed resulting in me bagging my groceries with one hand.  If you don't submit to Joe's first cry he will start yelling in a pitch only heard by the CPS.  By the time the whole ordeal is over with, we are so exhausted and fed up.  I'll never forget the time we were done bagging up everything and just about to leave and Lily tossed a container of cottage cheese on the ground and it exploded everywhere.
   Because we avoid grocery shopping like the plague and only do it when the only things left are a moldy apple and BBQ sauce, we usually have a ton of groceries.  We'll fill an entire cart up and the bucket of our stroller.  When it's time to pay it will be above $200.  I am always shocked and demand Dave to explain what he bought that was so expensive because surely there is an unauthorized purchase in there somewhere...We take our cart which looks like we're stocking up for the rapture and cram it into our BAT which for once in its life is too small to fit everything,  I end up having to sit in the middle of the front seat redneck style all the way home with a stack of frozen pizza in my lap.  Now for the worst part-getting it upstairs.  Yes we have to carry everything across the parkcade, up the elevator down the hallway-with two now ballistic children singing "are we there yet" in scream-minor.  Two trips you say?  While the smart thing to do.  We end up loading our stroller and trying to carry as much as we can possible lift and pleading with Lily to please hurry up and not push the elevator help buttons.  We then get through the door only to realize that we forgot to by milk, the main reason why we went to begin with.
  As you can see I'm sitting here trying to think of all the many excuses not to go today.  I think I need to phone the dentist, I may have some teeth he needs to drill out....