Res-dismay

So I've started hunting for a job.

My husband and I mutually decided I should go back to work.  Actually no, it was more like Visa made the decision for us.  Apparently we like to spend money.  After closely inspecting our statement with a highlighter and a look of disbelief, I realized that if we wanted to keep eating food that doesn't come out of a can and feature a picture of a dog, I would have to find a source of income.  Not only that but we have an expensive data plan to support.  Not so shockingly I also found over a hundred dollars worth of McDonalds on there.  So...Visa not only believes that we're deadbeats but have atrocious eating habits as well.....

At first I tried finding freelance writing jobs but no one seemed to think I was funny, which is weird because quite honestly I find myself quite hilarious.  I raised some money on an online Facebook page called bidding wars. I made a hundred dollars before I ran out of stuff to sell. Everything else was soon bolted down by my husband who became quite nervous that he would come home to everyone sitting on pillows because I had sold the couches.   Having no skill other than hawking junk and writing sass, I went to my fall back plan-find some peon work where it didn't matter that I have spent the last two years philosophizing if the wheels on the bus still went 'round and 'round.  (Spoiler alert: they do!!)

So cue in the great job search of 2012..more like the mediocre search of 2012.  The first few weeks involved me looking at Craig's list and deciding that most part time jobs I were looking for involved a little too much lifting.  I would look at the computer and groan because I was pretty sure I was the first mother in the history of motherhood that had to go back to work.  But my laundry would miss me!  Luckily my husband assured me that my dirty laundry mountain would still be waiting for me at the end of the day...

I have a little bid of hesitation about re-entering the workforce.  Making the switch is never easy.  I remember the first week I was off on maternity leave.  I walked around the house with a lost look on my face and a pile of blank papers that I would fax to random numbers (after Lily became a toddler soon the pages would read: help me).  I also had no idea how to time my coffee breaks since there was no work that I was trying to avoid.  Now I have to do the reverse: get use to faxing documents instead of playing name that stain (spoiler alert: it is never chocolate).  First of all, the whole wearing pants thing will be a challenge or any article of clothing devoid of baby puke.  Also as a housewife I make my own hours.  Yes my toddler often demands overtime or my baby decides that I'm working a night shift, but once again, the pants...oh the pants.  I've been off the payroll for two years busting my butt for nothing more than a sippy cup thrown at my head and being called a stinky butt.  Yes if I go back to retail it will probably be the same except with adults but maybe it would be nice to get a paycheck at the end of the day. 

The first hurtle was of course the resume.  On my first round of EI in 2010 the government made me go to this job search course that was suppose to give me a resume that would amaze potential employers and make them want to hire me on the spot.  By this they obviously meant a resume that looked like I rolled it in dirt and then threw up on it because that is exactly what I got.  In fact, I ended up with a resume that would only be good if I was applying at a mental hospital...as a patient.  I ended up just using the same resume that I created in highschool.  Then the cover letter...I always have difficulty with this one because I feel like I have to kiss butt.  I wish I could just write: I can do this job, let me be great!!!

Next roll in Craig's list.  It is hard not to get distracted by the grammatically incorrect, misspelled ads or the employers who want you to have a PHD, 10years of experience but only want to pay $2 an hour.
How could one not troll?
After wasting a few nights of writing comical cover letters to certain ads I remebered what I was actually suppose to be doing.
So I applied for a few select places, wrote a clever cover letter and sent my resume on its way.  So far I've heard nothing, but luckily there is always a spot for me here, at home, during the toddler power hour.

So wish me luck, hopefully I will find what I'm looking for.

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.

Because its good for you....

     So this may very well be my last blog entry.  I have my first trail run tomorrow so I'm pretty sure I might like, die.  My sister asked me if I had viewed the altitude information for this race.  Altitude? What does that mean? Altitude is a measurement of height (or at least that's what the guess that I pulled out of my butt said), so I think she's subtly trying to tell me that there's hills or better yet, one big hill.  Oh my....I'm seriously questioning my sanity and even more so questioning my husband's who has done no training whatsoever.  I guess after I'm done writing this I'll u-tube some videos about blood dopping.  Even thought my sister is in way better shape then I am, I'm still somewhat competitive so I either need to get my hands on some performance enhancing drugs or hire someone to break her knee caps.  What?  I got her a nice birthday gift....
    So what have I been up to lately?  Well mom stuff.  Remember when you mom made you do stuff that you didn't particularly want to do but she told you it was "for your own good"?  Well that's payback for all the stuff she had to do for your own good when you were little.  Seriously, at the moment I'm taking Lily to a whole bunch of activities outside my comfort and sanity zone just because I know it might make her a little less of a thug in her future.
    I started Strong Start last month or as I refer to it in our case Weak Crawl.  There are two programs: morning or afternoon.  The afternoon one in my opinion is mislabeled. It starts at 11:30 which technically is still morning, or at least in my world it is.  11:30? who wants to run after kids when you can still taste the toothpaste in your mouth.  Then there is morning Strong Start that begins at 8:30.  That's 8:30 AM, AM as it opens before the bank even does.  I have yet to make it on time.  We beat our record this morning by getting there at 9:30-apparently we only get up at 6am for afternoon Strong Start.  Usually we stroll in around 10am just in time for Lily to beat some poor kid over the head with a plastic baby.  Strong Start is another one of these programs that is so good for the kids and Lily loves it.  The downside is basically I'm spending the whole time playing referee with a below acceptable level of caffeine in my system.  There is something about another child playing with a toy that transforms it into the most desirable toy in the whole entire universe.  A kid could be holding a ball of lint and Lily would think it was the best thing since sliced bread or something straight out of Mordor.  The other day we were on the playground during outside time and Lily made a breakaway while I was trying to put JoJo in his stroller.  She ran into a classroom that had left the door open to let in air and attempted to knock over one of the kids who was using an exercise ball as a chair.  At least Lily has inherited my feelings towards hippies.  But seriously?  we don't use chairs anymore? We sit on bouncy balls?  Can one truly concentrate when you're bouncing? Okay kids...boing...open to page 2....boing.....for history...BOING! Anyways we made quite a ruckus when I had to remove her from the classroom with her kicking and screaming while holding Joe who was also screaming in solidarity.  Today Lily really embarrassed me.  She has this tendency to go into my closet and wear my underwear as a necklace.  Anyways I was rushing as usual, trying not to be too late and I shoved her in her stroller without doing my last minute inspection.  I get there and let her out and one of the moms goes to me "your thong".  Instinctively I pull up my pants and she's like "no, around your toddler" and sure enough there was Lily parading around the room with my underwear on display.  Already however I have noticed that Lily is getting better around children so I can suck it up.  It's better to have her socialized then to sit at home in my PJ's watching realtity TV....I guess.    
    I also went to this free program called "Mother Goose".  Basically you sing a whole bunch of songs and dance around and pray for death that never comes to rescue you.  I joke, I joke, the kidlets love it and the people who run it are wonderful, however if I wasn't a bit snarky about it you wouldn't be reading this blog.  I'm just amazed that the songs haven't changed that much since I was a kid.  As I've commented many times, the wheels on the bus are still going 'round and 'round.  Also at the Kentucky fair the senorita with flowers in her hair is still shaking it like a milkshake which makes me ponder just how old that lady is now. It's been over 25years and that itsy bitsy spider is still crawling up the water spout except they have a new version of the song dealing with a humongous spider which is creepy on all sort of levels.  It's bad enough when we sing the song Lily barks so apparently it's a barking spider that has mutated into the size of a adult female.  So how did Lily like it?  It's hard to tell.  She basically stood in the middle of the singing circle lifting up her top yelling boobies.
  Anyways, when I'm old and grey I'll make sure Lily escorts me to all the activities the senior center offers to help keep my brain sharp.  When she groans and rolls her eyes at me I'll remind her that she has to take me because once upon the time I did the same thing...and besides it's good for me and might make me stop accidentally putting the remote away...in the fridge. 
  That being said, I'm off to rest before my race, I'm sure when I'm running up that hill inbetween swearing and crying I'll be humming Mary had a little lamb wondering why she hasn't made that thing into lamb chops.  Maybe she's vegan, like my crazy sister who got me into this mess (running that is).

Smashing Fashion.

So I have been watching a lot of "What not to Wear" because I am an emerging fashionista. Okay fine I enjoy the storyline. Okay fine, daytime television sucks. Okay fine, I'm too lazy to get off the couch to see which toilet Lily has dumped the remote. However it has made me one of those fashion offenders: I watch how to dress shows but in reality I'm rocking out the sweat pants and crocs. Yes Stacy and Clinton, I do know all the rules, I just choose to break them because I am a rebel.
As I covered in previous posts, my body has changed a lot. For the first time in 3 years I am not pregnant and actually being smart in preventing it (no mojitos etc). After I had Joe and that scary post-pregnancy month passed (you know the one where you still look 6 months pregnant), I inspected my closet. On one side I had all my clubbing clothes from my single days and on the other side I had all my maternity clothes and nothing in between. Since going to Strong Start in thigh high boots and hot pants is not an option (or at least an option I'd want to explore, after all this is Maple Ridge we're talking about), I decided it was time to revamp the wardrobe. Another deciding factor was seeing some of my clothes featured in the before "what not to wear" segment. So I'm in the process of re-vamping my fashion.

Easier said then done.

For my birthday I requested one type of gift: nice, grown up looking clothes. My family kindly obliged and I did get some items to jump start my new style. Problem is I'm too scared to wear them. See there's a reason why kids clothes are so cheap: kids spill stuff on them and stain them. Most clothes get through one wear before turning into an abstract painting of what Lily ate that day-Lily just runs around in a diaper at home because I grew tired all her clothes turning that nice grey color from constant washing (no I do not separate my colors when I throw them in the wash thankyouverymuch). However kids also spill stuff and stain YOUR clothes but the cheapness rule doesn't apply. Kids are attracted to everything new and nice and can't wait to get their hands on it. I'm scared the day I wear my nice dress is the day Lily has spaghetti and tomato soup.
Also I don't go anywhere especially if it doesn't include the phrase "kids eat free" in their motto or tablecloths that aren't paper....
Kids don't care if you're dressed nice or not as long as you have fruit roll ups.....
Joe eats all the time so my clothes are always hidden behind a breastfeeding blanket...
I got a structured jacket that I love but I fear that it makes me look like a real estate agent....

What is my other issues? Well, I'm glad you asked.
Jeans:
Try getting a pair of jeans that don't contain the adjectives "skinny" or "low rise". Both term don't always work when you have young kids. Young kids require a lot of chasing, bending over and lifting so it's hard not to flash crack. It also doesn't contain the post-baby "fanny pack". There is a reason why moms wear mom jeans and it's very hard to resist the temptation not to wear them. However try finding a mid-rise that doesn't violate decency laws when you find yourself trying to contain your toddler after you tell her it's time to leave the park. Kali's tip: Low rise is five finger widths from belly button and mid rise is 2. Anything above a two is mom jean territory.

Jacket:
My mom HATES my jacket or as I call it "old faithful". I got it in West Edmonton mall for under $40. It's a plaid Roxy knee length coat. I've had it before I was married, before kids, I even wore it during all my pregnancies (not zipped up of course). It is now faded, worn and stretched and is starting to make me look a little homeless. Every time my mom nags me to toss it I tell her I'm adding another year onto its lifespan. I finally feel like I can let it go this year. With the big trend on motocycle jackets and structured jackets it's tempting, I guess only fall can tell. Also I have all these fancy jackets now but as mentioned above they make me look professional so I feel I little bit silly wearing them since my only business meetings include bosses in diapers.


Shirts:
Has anyone noticed the thin shirt epidemic invading all the stores lately. I'm not just talking about cheap brands either. It seems like there is a cotton shortage. I have tried many tops on and I find that if they aren't see-through then they hug to every curve and bump I have. Yes, you can go up a size but then its too baggy and you end up looking like a melted candle (plus remember clothes that are too big on you make you look bigger!). Also if they have a place where your bust goes my boobs always fall under it. I guess that's when you shop in the junior section-they expect your boobs not to be best friends with your ankles.

Anyways because I'm such a keener, I decided to do some homework and research some of the top fall trends of 2012. Okay, that's sort of a lie, I really was trying to find reasons not to vacumm. Here's my take on Glamour's trends:

• PVC Raincoats: one word comes to mind: tarp. Okay that and plastic mumu. I remember I had a PVC raincoat in highschool, I loved it until I was walking to school one day and a friend commented that from far away she thought I was wearing a trash bag. Looking homeless is exactly the style I am trying to avoid.
• Graphic Sheath Dress: So wrong on so many levels. I've seen these before on manikins in stores and it makes them look like they had a heavy lunch. Let's just explore the meaning of sheath for a second: "close-fitting covering or case." Yes based on that definition on dictionary.com I'm sure it would look absolutely great on me.
• Cozy Sweater: This is a trend I can really get behind if it includes snugglys (or is that snugglies?). Yes, if it's now socially acceptable to wear one out grocery shopping then that would be awesome.
• Belted white dress: Obviously the people at Glamour don't have kids, or don't have my kids, or have never rode on a bus or eaten a meatball sub...Nothing pairs better with a toddler then a perfect white canvas. Did I mention I also don't sort my laundry? It all goes in at the same time..I guess I could wear it once and then wait until multicolored greyish dresses are in style..
• Bohemian Print dress: You know how I feel about hippies. What's winter's trend? burning the bra?
• Polka Dot sweater: Once again, I have no problem with this style. It makes finding spit up and mashed fruit bars harder to spot.
• Silk Trousers: All I can think of is panty lines or a mean case of hungry bum. Have you ever owned something silk that doesn't ride up in a spot its not suppose to be?
• Tuxedo Style Blazer: Perfect to wear while scrubbing toliets since nothing is classier than a tuxedo..maybe I can pretend I'm rich enough to hire a butler...
• Over sized clutch: The strap fell off my diaper bag so I'm already following this trend.
• Ankle boots and cropped trousers: My fellow "what not to wear" watchers, you know the story with these two. They are the fastest looks to convert a short woman's legs into tree trunks. Yes they cut off your legs and make you look shorter and when you look shorter you look wider. Great, I have short legs, remind me to put off shoe shopping until next year,

I'm still waiting for "What not to wear" to have a Canadian version of their show so I can send them in my demo tape. Until then I will be waiting in my mom jeans and my t-shirt with only two holes and one tomato sauce stain on it. Come find me.

For some reason these clubbing relics are still in my closet.  Not sure where I can wear them to,,,

Due Late

Me at 39 weeks and growing

    
        So my due date has come and gone and before you even ask:  No. The baby hasn't arrived.  The worst part of the last few weeks of pregnancy is not the backache, the heartburn or the gas (well Dave might debate that). No, the worse is the fact that every stranger decides to talk to you and point out that you're pregnant (in case you didn't notice).  Seriously I'll be at the grocery store and before I make it from the milk section to the cheese section-a 3 inch but somehow 10minute journey-I hear "when are you due?", "oh you look like you're about to pop any moment" or even better: that person's life story in regards to their reproductive history.  Dave says people are just trying to be nice, I say people are just bored and see a slow moving target.  Besides I hate the phrase "about to pop".  My stomach area feels so full of fetus right now that I'm scared one false move and I will literally pop: a leg directly out of my stomach like in that alien movie.  It's just not strangers, it seems like I'm fielding questions about my baby's tardiness left, right and center.  Yes I know people care but if I actually got a baby for every time someone asked me if the baby is here yet, I'd be a Duggar.... I guess my amount of patience correlates directly to my ability to see my feet.
   I realized that I haven't blogged in over a week.  So what have I been up to?  Well not much, hence the drought in blog entries.  There are only so many ways you can dress up sitting on the couch, eating chips and watching TV.  Anyways:

• Dave came back from his work vacation.  I call it a work vacation because he wasn't home and helping me do my household tasks like a good little peon.  He's been off work for a week and a half so it would have been the perfect time, to, you know, have that baby.  Like a true MC, schooled in the art of being inconvenient and late-the baby never came and probably will come tomorrow when Dave does go back to work.  We pretty much went from one extreme to another-from him never being here to him always being here.  The thing that suffered most (apart from my sanity)?  My reality TV watching.  I had to "share" the TV which meant I was subjected to a lot of man shows.  As we speak Dave is watching Deadliest Catch where they're catching crabs.  I'm sorry but I see bigger crabs on my trashy shows (Jersey Shore I'm looking at you..) so I'm not impressed.  I can't wait until he goes back to work so I can flush out my mind with a good dose of trashy shows without shame or him sending me dirty looks.  Trust me, they are all PVRed and every day Dave asks me if I meant to record those shows.  On the plus side I got him addicted to Millionaire Matchmaker so I guess he's not a complete loss...
• I added another person to my hit list.  My doctor told me on my Wednesday appointment that he was going on vacation....MONDAY.  Yes, he gave me 5 days notice.  We're not talking about a family emergency or a conference, no, he's going to Australia for a month.  Gee doctor, you think you could have given me a little more notice?  Seriously, I felt like bitch slapping him with that plastic vagina model that sits on his shelf.  I won't say the visual of him getting eaten by a Dingo didn't cross my mind... I finally met the doctor that is covering for him, TODAY.  It was the only time they could squeeze me in, and the worst?  The receptionist gave me a lecture about leaving it to the last moment.  Maybe you should talk to your boss? Hmm...
• I can't remember if I have ranted about this before, but we've been having trouble with our big ass stroller.  The brake doesn't work, probably a result of a bent frame.  I've been dealing with Baby's World and Phil and Ted since February 20th.  Anyways they finally lodged their head out of their ass and shipped me the part to fix it.  However when I see it I will believe it.  I've also been waiting for the second seat which has been on backorder.  After 6weeks they finally got it.  When I went to pick it up-it was the wrong color.  For those that know me, I'm way to anal to let that fly.  We ended up buying it, since you know, baby can come anytime and we didn't want to get stuck without anyway of transporting the kiddies.  Anyways after a few angry emails, phone calls and an entire week later I returned the seat with a giant "shove it where your head was previously" and went to TJ Kiddies that actually had the seat in the color I wanted in stock.  Just getting to Vancouver was a day trip.  By the time we drove there-with Lily screaming the whole time, picked up the seat-with Lily screaming the whole time, stopped by McDonalds playplace so Lily could stretch-with Lily screaming the whole time and drove home-with Lily screaming the whole time, it took 3 hours!!  Seriously, the kid was 5minutes away from getting put in the truck bed of the BAT.
• Dave and the Big ass truck also earned themselves a place on my hit list.  While putting the BAS in the BAT, my MP3 player fell out.  Dave then proceeded to drive over it with 6000lbs of truck.  In case you are wondering, the BAT won. I found the carcass the next day.

This is what happens when you try to pick fights with a BAT

      
    As you can tell, it's been a week of frustration.  I've been trying to be positive and a good sport about things, then I realized that it goes against my nature.  As I've said over Facebook, it's been one of those weeks where you want to head to your local coffee shop and terrorize a barrister-because you know it's their fault for everything.  Make me a tall non fat 1/2 pump vanilla latte 180 degrees in a grande cup with extra whip cream and chocolate sauce on top in the design of a happy face. But not too happy...oh and I brought my own thermometer so even try to pass 170degrees as 180! 
   Here's hoping that baby will arrive soon.  Tuesday they plan to induce me if I don't go into labor naturally.  and YES I will keep you posted, if you hear no news then there's no baby yet...

Home Alone

After being gone for nearly a week, Dave is still on the island working. He finally comes home tomorrow afternoon which is great, well for me not for him-for the next few days he's going to be my bitch. I'm almost 39weeks pregnant and between not having a car and running after Lily I need a break before baby decides to make its appearance. Actually I think it's more my parents' who need the break-they have been running after both Lily and I for the past week and we're both pretty demanding...and messy. To be honest I'm surprised the baby didn't come while he was away. I was expecting as soon as that ferry pulled away from the terminal my water would break but surprisingly everything has worked out. Is everything finally coming up Kali?
So how has my week been? Besides the creepy noises that seem to appear at night and all the shadows that look like axe murders but are really just chairs I've actually enjoyed myself. I've never lived by myself before I got married so its been a bit of a novelty. I've been able to slack off more than usual. I don't have to spend the day trying to look busy because I know that no one is going to come home and ask the most irritating question known to housewives everywhere: "so what did you do today?". Also I haven't had to make a lunch or dinner (been eating at my parents). Sure I'm going to be out of practice when it comes to crafting my special peanut butter and jam sandwiches and nuking leftovers, but not having to worry about dinner? bliss! Also as soon as Dave packed his bags, my house already started to look cleaner (read: he took his pile of clean jeans which he stores on the dresser instead of putting in the drawer with him) AND I don't have to clean the house after he comes home and leaves a trail of Dave piles. Plus don't get me started at peeing with the door open and walking around in my underwear....maybe men are onto something? In the words of Homer Simpson "Don't you hate pants?"
Now you're probably wondering what exactly I got up to. I mean really I could be going out and living the exciting life, however when you feel like the Michelin Man's obese sister you don't really want to slap on a pair of hot pants and party it up, plus that and toddler...so I've been housebound. I spent a lot of time with my secret lover-my new PVR. Yes, I love it so much it has replaced McDonalds as my side piece. I filled my PVR full of girly shows that Dave would scoff at. I've been rotting my mind with a steady diet of wedding reality shows, housewives from different cities and of course Star Trek TNG so I could drool over Will Riker in peace and without ridicule (that beard!). I've also been enjoying my mom's food and candy and free childcare. Here is a brief recap:

• DAY 1: Cleaned my house top to bottom including vacuuming. I then promptly left my house and went to my parents. Better to dirty up their house then mine. If I play my cards right I won't have to clean for at least another week or two. Shhh don't tell Dave, as far as he's concerned I cleaned every day all week!
• DAY 2: Crap! Dave usually takes care of the cat...no wonder why he tried to gnaw on my arm last night. Promptly watered and fed the cat. Cat still plotting my death. Hold me.
• DAY 3: I blew $50 on a dollhouse for Lily. Thought it would soften the blow that we're seriously going to mess up her world in 2weeks. "you're no longer the center of existence but ooh lookie here!". I'm sure Dave Loves how he works his butt off all week and I spend it in an afternoon.
• DAY 4: Took Lily to kinder cafe. That place is scary, like "Lord of the Flies" scary. I also collected more stuff to purge and take to the Salvation Army. Seriously, it's easier to get rid of Dave's stuff when he's not here.
• DAY 5: Took Lily to the park because all she wants to do at home is crawl all over me or hit me with the remote while I try to nap on the couch (or comb her hair with the toilet brush). My dad bought her a playhouse which BTW is nicer than the dump we currently live in (see photos here). I have a feeling after this week Lily and I will be kicked out of my parent's house and banished to the new "guest house" (at least they can hose off that plastic floor at the end of our visit).

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't miss Dave. However during his normal 8 day work week it's not like I see him that often. It will be nice to have him back even for that one or two hours a day to open jars and move heavy furniture.

On first impression it looks like she's being bad by shredding Dave's magazines but she's actually doing me a favor-now I have no choice but to toss them.

Battle of the Writer's Block

  Missed me?  It's been a week since I've last blogged.  I'd love to claim it's because I've been on a fabulous vacation or because I'm living an exciting life in the fast lane but to be honest, it's because I've had a case of the writer's block.  I know, I know, I'm technically not a writer but you can get tennis elbow from causes other than tennis right?  Writers block seems like a creditable condition-does it count for the medicinal stuff?
    My mind has been just completely blank and I have been unable to phrase two sentences together.  I'm not sure if it's because my brain has been marinating in pregnancy hormones for the last 38weeks or if it's all the reality TV I've been ingesting but it feels shriveled and dried up like a raisin. I'm not sure what I can do to remedy the situation-  I guess I could try...reading...a paper...with no celebrity gossip....NAH!
    Anyways, Dave's work is sending him away this week.  I'm a little nervous being 38weeks preggers and all since that's about the same time Lily was born. Plus this baby might want to spite Dave and make an early appearance just to mess with him (in that case this baby would already be making me proud).  Poor Dave thought, he just can't win.  Dave works hard during his night shift but all Lily sees is him laying on the couch in the morning and going to bed at 11am. Is it any small wonder while at breakfast she pointed at him and exclaimed "Dada BUM!!". I wonder what words she's going to have for him when he comes home after being gone so long.  She'll probably give Dave one of her killer side eye glares, the ones that shoot you dead in your tracks.  My daughter has mastered the side eye, see exhibit A:

Seriously no one can do a side eye better than Lily

    This week would be a great time to go for a girls weekend and party it up, however, being comically pregnant with a toddler I already consider being up at 11PM tonight partying it up.  I'm hoping maybe getting something ready for the baby, but since that sounds like work I'll probably all of a sudden overcome my writer's block.  There's nothing like procrastinating from one task to jump start something else. 
   Now if you excuse me I threw away some Easter Candy this morning and am seriously considering digging through the trash to retrieve it.

Reality Bytes: Addicted to my stories

I have recently been watching a bit of reality TV shows.
I have recently been watching a lot of reality TV shows.
All I watch is reality TV shows lately.
Not only did we get cable but we got a PVR which means I can record all my favorite shows and watch it whenever I want. After a boring day of scrubbing toilets and doing laundry I love to watch my shows and see a bunch of people add a flare of drama to the most simplest things. With just a tap of a button I have access to tens of shows each more trashier and juicier than the next. I never thought the day would come where I would be addicted to reality TV. I mean the whole Survivor craze was lost on me. Lately I have found all the scripted shows on TV are boring, I mean there's a few good ones like Modern Family but most of the sitcoms seem to have the same storyline-the two main characters we know are going to hook up eventually hook up, then they break up, then they whine about it, hook up again and then the show is cancelled. Don't even get me started on the show Once Upon a Time, it's painful watching that actress from House try to emote on the screen-She makes Kristen Stewart seem like the most talented thespian out there. The other choices feature Zombies and Vampires but they give me nightmares especially since I'm home alone at night. Hell, I even tried watching Star Wars but turned it off after 5 minutes. When you're 37weeks pregnant, Jabba the Hut is the last thing you want to see, not to be confused with the parody Spaceballs-Pizza the hut is always a welcome sight. Plus if I didn't watch reality TV I would miss golden quotes such as "Squirrel Brains are what make you smart"-Duck Dynasty or "Doesn't matter how you skin a cat, the hair grows back anyways"-Darrel from Storage Wars. See? Gold.
Here's what I'm watching and what I think of it:

• STORAGE WARS: It's like a huge peeing contest between a bunch of men. One jacks up the bidding price to mess with a guy and thinks he's shown the guy who's boss and the other one buys the overpriced locker and thinks he won and shown the other guy who's boss. Sometimes they get something good but other times they're just fighting over a box of crap. While watching I often wonder if there is someone out there watching and goes "crap! that's where I put my diamond ring collection!!". All I know is this show makes me really want to go rent a storage locker, pack it full of cardboard boxes filled with shredded newspaper and apple cores and write "valuable antiques" in black marker on its sides and then default on the payments.
• DANCE MOMS: I just discovered this show a few days ago. It's about a bunch of ex-pageant rejects with bad botox jobs trying to relive their youth through their daughters while in the process scarring them and making them pretty much un-dateable to the general public. I use to be a competitive dancer. I've won many a participant ribbon in my day-my sister had the real talent, she had medals and trophies, unfortunately I was blessed with two badly placed left feet, unfortunate glasses and teeth that made my sister nickname me Ferengi. I'd show up to competitions, make it halfway through my dance, forget the rest and then stand on the stage and cry. I think if my mom was one of these Dance moms she would have had a stroke. Luckily I doubt I'll have to worry about putting Lily in dance. She's got the grace and build of a football linebacker. If I tried to make her practice she would just tackle me. I wouldn't have to worry about the dance teacher making her cry because it would be the other way around-I would find the teacher rocking back and forth in the corner. Plus I don't think I'd be able to take it-to be honest Lily's in music class and when she just chews on her sticks instead of banging them together like she's suppose to, a small piece of me dies.
• KITCHEN NIGHTMARES: This show renews my love for McDonalds. I never see them on this show which speaks to their high quality. One thing I don't get is the owners invite Chef Gordan Ramsey to fix their place and act all surprised that it's bad to have your kitchen overrun by cockroaches.
• DUCK DYNASTY: I love this show, it's fun watching a bunch of rednecks share their one chromosome to run a business. At first I didn't like it, I thought it was a bit forced and it felt like the people were reading from scripts. I then realized that this wasn't true-they were just slow. I also revel in the fact that there are people who are more redneck then me.
• FOUR WEDDINGS (Canada/US): This show is fun to watch. However I don't really understand who would agree to be on it. Who goes "okay on my special day I want three other brides giving me the bitch side eye, making snarky comments about my dress and food!". Sure! make my wedding into a giant competition, it will prep me for when I have kids and possibly for an appearance on Dance Moms! The brides usually spend extra money in order to show off so in the end they probably could pay for the honeymoon themselves, or at least go to Mexico-I'd take my chances with the drug cartels rather than the 3 other brides I get paired with thankyouverymuch. Those girls can strike you down with one glare if you dare serve them the fish or make them wait a hour between reception and ceremony. After watching 4weddings Canada, I have concluded that Canadians are not more polite than Americans. We are just more passive aggressive. Americans will flat out tell you your cake sucks. Canadians will tell you they love your dress then on the private camera say it looks as flattering as a snowsuit on a walrus.
• CANADIAN PICKERS: You get to watch two men go to a bunch of old guy's houses and try to convince them to let go of some of their rusty crap. Here you see the old men fight over the price and worth of a rusty, dirty can collection. Maybe this show is lost on me, I mean for me antique collector is a polite way of saying hoarder. If I were these pickers I would go back in 5years to the guy's estate sale and buy them for a buck from family members who just want to get rid of the crap. Or sort through their recycling when their wife finally gets fed up and does some spring cleaning.
• PAWN STARS-The best part of this show is watching the people come in to pawn off family antiques and try to make excuses for why they're getting rid of them. Sure, they say they're making room in their house but keep in mind the store is located in Vegas. Chances are they're trying to pay off a gambling bet or need more money for hookers and blow.
• HOLMES INSPECTION: This is the demotivational poster child for wanting to buy a home. It is also a sure way to notice cracks and defects in your own house and then worry about mold and getting lung herpes.
• YES TO THE DRESS: This show has fallen out of favor with me because lately they just bring in ex-beauty pageant contestants. Also I get tired of all the crying. I do still laugh at the ladies who go for alterations and their dress is too small because they either gained weight or bought a smaller size in hope to lose some weight and then blame the dressmaker. If I was the dressmaker I'd stab them with one of those sewing pins. Sometimes I just want to shout at the girls on TV and tell them "It's just a dress! It will be taking up space in your parent's crawl space soon enough!" I bet you the people from Holmes Inspection wished they spent as much time obsessing about finding a good inspector as these girls do about finding the perfect dress. I remember when I bought my wedding dress. I wanted something that hugged my figure and left no room for a single pound deviation. I bought a fit and flare (see what I learned from TV) with a zipper back. The next week I found out I was pregnant and realized that I would be 3 almost 4 months when I got married (around the same time most women "pop"). It took a lot of prayers, weekly fittings near the date and the aid of a shoehorn but it fit...barley.
• CANADA'S WORST DRIVERS: This one makes me laugh but I really cannot judge them. Just the other day I put our big ass truck in reverse thinking it was in park and tried to jump out. This season is gold, they have a priest that drives too slow, an anarchist and a girl who claims that she is 28 but looks more like she's in her 40's-maybe she thought they were asking for her IQ and not her age. There is this one woman who is always on her cell phone. She's not a doctor or a lawyer or anyone really that important. I don't really understand who exactly is calling her all the time? What makes this show hilarious is that the first episode they made everyone do a test course in a Rolls Royce. Of course it got destroyed and totaled in the process-totally worth it because I got to watch my husband cringe, wince and gripe the sofa the entire time.

In the end who can resist the lure of reality shows? I mean my life is way more boring, it's like the fat-free version of life, yeah it's still living but it's nowhere near as fun or tempting as these shows!

From Maintenance to MainteNOTce

  A few years ago I was single with a good income-most of it disposable.  I was high maintenance:  I always got my hair, nails and eyebrows done by professionals.  My wardrobe was always fresh, I mean I couldn't go to the club in the same outfit as last weekend could I?  A lot has changed since then, in fact when I walk down the street people aren't looking at my awesome new 'do or great brows, they're looking for a can to put their spare change in.  I had sort of let myself go.  I can't even blame my sad state of affairs on motherhood.  I see a lot of well dressed moms out there who have managed to keep it together.  Part of my problem is that I'm technically now a bum.  I mean, yes I can say I'm a homemaker, but in reality I don't do that much housework to claim that title, my house isn't THAT clean-I take my example from Peggy Bundy.  Some people are supermoms, I'm apparently a Lex Luther.  That isn't the main reason however-I have discovered I am totally incompetent at these sort of things. But more on that later...
   Why did I stop going to professionals?  See I was in a mission to save money.  Because money was tight and I wasn't really adding to our household income I didn't want to spend money on extras and this looked like an easy way to trim money off our expenses.  I decided I was going to do it myself. I mean so many people do these sort of things every day how hard could it be?  There wouldn't be a multimillon dollar hair-color-in-a-box industry if it DIDN'T work.  Plus nobody dies from a bad plucking job.  Apparently there is a reason why there are professionals..and why I have been relying on them all these years.  It is very hard, well at least for me to do these types of upkeep and still look normal.

•  My hair:  I would still go to my awesome hair dresser to get my hair trimmed up and fixed up.  However in order to make the time between haircuts stretch sometimes I would trim it myself.  Big mistake.  I once ended up cutting my bangs too short and they stuck out like a unicorn's horn.  If I didn't touch it I would just let it grow out until it looked like a greasy, shapeless, limp mess.  Right now I'm in that phase:  the only thing keeping me from shaving my head ala Brittney Spears is by pulling it back in a pony tail and headband-not the most flattering look.  The color?  For the last year and a half it has been done courtesy of a $9.99 color in a box special.  Keeping my hair a solid brown color wasn't too difficult of a task, however in the summer I decided to go blonde.  Not only did I fry my hair but it went copper.  So I had to re-bleach it a few times to try to get a uniform, non kool-aide, semi-it-exists-in-nature shade.  I was in too deep to stop now.  I recently re-dyed it to get rid of my brown roots, however I messed up the application so instead of dying my roots blonde it just lightened them enough to make it look like I'm a lighter shade of brunette who needs to redo her roots.  Just the other day my mom pointed out that my hair was starting to look a little greenish in natural sunlight and when we eventually get natural sunlight I'm in big trouble.  I am so lucky my hair dresser is a patient person... I'm going there Thursday and she has her work cut out for her.  
• My Eyebrows:  I am completely hopeless when it comes to plucking my own eyebrows.  In all fairness to myself my eyebrows don't grow in evenly.  Even in the days when I never let my own hands take tweezers to them, my beautician would accuse me of plucking.  My other issue is I have thick eyebrow hairs but very few of them so if I pluck the wrong hair BAM! I have a bald space.  It's sorta like my brows got tired and needed to take a break. Anyways my eyebrows got so bad it was at the point where they were almost nonexistent.  I mean I had to draw them in which is annoying because you have to plan your facial expression for that day in advance.  You had to either choose to be shocked all day or hope that nothing shocking happened.  I guess I could bring some wet wipes and a pencil in my purse so I could change it throughout the day but I'm way too lazy for that sort of commitment.

    My mission to save money ended a few days ago when I opened up my husband's visa bill.  You see I've been put on mail duty (which sucks BTW: do you know that the mail comes everyday?).  I noticed that while I was stuck to greenish hair and one facial expression Dave was eating at McDonalds 4 times a week and spending money at the pub during his pool tournaments.  I mean it wasn't like he was blowing hundreds of dollars but still, a nice pluck and rinse done by a professional once a month was starting to look reasonable.  I just got my brows redone and on Thursday I'm going to my hairdresser to get my mess cleaned up so I'm starting to feel a little more human.
  I think I saved myself in the nick of time... things are starting to look pretty desperate!

Eyebrows fixed, can't wait to kiss the greenish multi-shade hair goodbye!

Farewell Facebook-well for now

    
      So I did it, I went off Facebook cold turkey.  I honestly feel like I'm trying to quit smoking.  I've been trying to find ways of cutting back my usage for a few months now.  I tried the Facebook cleanse-but like all diets, I was as good as gold for the morning but by afternoon found myself tired of celery and back in the fridge shoveling cake into my face (or in this case, I wouldn't be on Facebook all day and then killed 3 hours on it at night).  I had a brilliant plan of slowly cutting back my friends list, only keeping the people I interact with online (or they lived far away making offline communication difficult) until eventually I wouldn't feel the need to check my phone every 2 minutes, you know, in case someone mentioned me in a post.  In my hormone soaked brain this seemed like a completely logical idea-until I started deleting people from my list.  I put out a Facebook "warning" but started trimming my list immediately with the same tack as lopping off limbs and then was shocked at the backlash.  I forgot how seriously we all take Facebook-I got a bunch of angry messages, it wasn't like I was un-friending them in REAL life.  If they still wanted to they could phone me and vice versa, however I guess I wasn't sensitive enough, next time I'll mail out a Facebook spring cleaning notification 2weeks in advance.  To be honest even on Facebook where you're not anonymous as say a forum, people can be still be downright nasty online saying things that they would never say to your face, I won't repeat what people said to me to tell me off-maybe we're all a little discontent on the evolution of friendship social media is driving us towards.  However I'm not one for deep thought, so if you are, feel free to take that thought and run with it.  To make a long story short I had a huge cyber temper tantrum and deactivated my account.  I sort of regret it, but I'm too embarrassed to cave after ONE (not even that) day.  Plus I would still be in the same boat as yesterday-overly addicted to Facebook and still having to clean up my friends list.  The draw back to not having Facebook is that I have no idea what day it is or what the weather is like now.  I also don't know if the end of the world happened.  Honestly when I went to bed last night I had no idea if I would still exist when I woke up in the morning. It's weird I woke up today at my usual time and first thing I did was reach for my phone to check what happened last night in my beloved virtual world.  I was saddened when I realized the app was no longer there-now what am I suppose to use this device for?? Oh yeah, maybe dialing someone's number....

Reasons to quit

• I am addicted.  I realized this last year when I clued in that I was checking Facebook on my mobile phone while surfing Facebook on my computer.
• It was making me socially lazy.  Instead of meeting up with people or phoning I was liking statuses and counting that as social maintenance.  
• Too easy to be too personal.  Sure you start off just saying vague thing but next thing you know you've slowly gotten to the point where you're posting your BM schedule.  

Things I miss

• The convenience of knowing everything about everyone.
• Stalking Exes (friends and boyfriends) to make sure they have gotten more fatter, miserable and uglier than me.
• saturating people's newsfeed with pictures of Lily and myself.
• The shamelessness of posting stuff all about me without looking as vapid as if I was telling people the same thing over coffee.
• Pretending I'm the guardian guy on the Matrix.  
• Feeling popular, hey! i got 250 friends!

Excuses to rejoin-I'm jonesing for a status update, I'm a proud person and don't want to go crawling back.  However I'm getting the shakes.

• Pregnancy hormones.  When in doubt, these wonderful hormones can be used to justify every social "oops" or dumb thing I do.  
• Hand slipped-I was trying to like a status but my hand slipped and I deactivated instead.

I'm not completely off the grid-I haven't gone hippy.  I still have a bit of an virtual presence.  I still have my twitter account-yes I know that's like trading heroin for crack but baby steps people!  I'm also going to keep up on this blog so people can still have get an idea what I'm up to without being force feed it via a newsfeed.

So let's hope I make it more than a week.  I've got $2 on making it through the week.

UPDATE:  I briefly logged in this morning, I wanted to see if I could amend my account or get pictures without having an active session-turns out you can't.  I guess I owe Dave $2.00

Much to-do about clutter

  As usual I'm engaged in the never ending task of de-cluttering our apartment.  It's basically a ritual now in our house.  When I buy a box of diapers (which happens often because Lily is a pooping machine), I empty the cardboard box and put it on our kitchen table.  This signals right away to Dave, the cat and Lily that stuff will go missing-it's time for a Salvation Army/Dump run. Sometimes they fight it and I will make my own choices on what stays or goes but if they humor me and sacrifice a few items on the altar of cleanliness I generally will leave their stuff alone.
      It is all about the input/output.  A house is like an  person: you can eat all you want but if you don't *ehem* evacuate your bowels once in a while you're going to get pretty backed up and things are going to get messy.  So I guess I'm giving our house a cleanse because there is a clog in the pipe.  Okay, I'm going to stop it right here before this blog entry goes any more downhill and turns into a bunch of poop jokes (to the delight of my husband).  Like a person, a house has problem areas-certain areas that seem to attract junk and remain messy no matter how many dust bunnies you attempt to slay.  They are just attractors of bulk.  Clutter is like fat cells and I'm like "Trimspa baby!".  Yes it's hard work now but our dwelling will be thanking me at swimsuit season when its not bulging at the seams.
I've identified my house's problem areas that tend to attract the extra "junk".  Sort of like its hips and thighs area:

1. Dave:  Between him and Lily, he is the main source of our clutter issue.  Lily didn't make this list-yes she has a lot of toys and trashes the house daily but at least she doesn't bring anything new into the house and when it's time to get rid of some of her toys she doesn't complain (read: realize).  Dave on the other hand will bring junk into the house and sometimes remove things from the Salvation army box.  While I'm trying to trim down the house, Dave is force feeding it doughnuts!  Dave thinks every piece of garbage is sentimental or worth something and hence won't give it up.  He'll be that 70 year old who has a can collection insisting they are antiques and worth money (yes I've been watching Canadian Pickers on TV).  I've made a little bit of progress with him lately:  I got him to put two baseball hats in our Salvation Army pile without having to nag him within an inch of his life.  This is the most he's gotten rid of in a while!  So what does a girl do?  Obviously I can't throw him out or kick him to the curb-I'd need a bigger box at the very least if I were to attempt to take him to the Salvation Army.  On the plus side he keeps my need to throw out everything in check.  Without him and left to my own devices we'd be sitting on the floor or eating over the sink because I've decided that furniture is a waste of space and dishes take up precious cabinet space.
2. Mount. Recycling:  All our recycling gets put into the laundry room and is quickly forgotten-well until I need to do laundry or get something out of our deep freeze.  Half the problem is that you have to take it down to the parkcade and I don't pass that area often since I don't have a car and don't break into cars looking for loose change (a favorite pastime for residents in this building).  Don't look at Dave to take it down, he hasn't (not without me force feeding it to him first) since we've been married.  Usually I let the recycling pile up until I can barely open the laundry room door.  Quite often I will have to carry 6 or more bags down at once and it often involves having to use the stroller as a garbage barge.  I also have become slightly immune to neighbors' snide comments or dirty looks.  No I am not moving, doing spring cleaning or featured on hoarders! It was funny the first 5 times you asked me that....and BTW I'm not over my bag limit, I have 6 bags of junk yes, but it's six weeks worth thankyouverymuch!
3. Tupperware Drawer:  No matter how many times I organize or throw out random pieces, this cupboard never seems to remain clean.  I'm always finding random lids or pieces that don't fit together.  I'll empty out the cupboard and the next day I'll find that all the Tupperware has multiplied! I have no idea what's going on when I close THAT door.  It doesn't help that children are naturally attracted to Tupperware.  Usually I'll hear crashing and Lily will be destroying the nice piles I have grouped everything in and our kitchen floor will be littered with Tupperware.
4. Shredding Pile:  Until two days ago we had a huge garbage bag of bills and documents that needed to be shredded.  In the last 2.5 years, we've only tackled the pile three times.  Usually we won't bother until the bag starts overflowing.  Even then we shred enough to get rid of the overfill and then promptly deny its existence.  6months ago I took an honest stab at trying to shred our pile and after the second garbage bag of paper our shredder promptly committed suicide.  It tried to take me down with it by trying to set me on fire by overheating.  I felt bad for the poor little thing, it was only a mini.  I started dividing the pile into smaller bags and shredding it at my parent's house.  I ended up shredding 7 bags worth of paper but I finally did it! Our pile is gone.  Let me say Dave and I will be having a discussion about what counts as shredable-the guy is way to paranoid about identify theft, half the stuff I shredded can be found on my Facebook page.  Also I was shredding phone bills from 2001.  I have promised never to let things get that bad but I have just started a new shredding bag...oh dear....
5. Friends list on Facebook:  Everything is going cyber.  Even clutter.  Clutter has a cyber footprint.  I mean my hotmail inbox is jamed full with emails and I have to clean that up daily otherwise I have 600 notifications and trust me I'm not that popular.  The other day I started going through my friends list on Facebook.  I had 250 friends which is weird because I spent Saturday night watching the original Batman in my PJs and went to bed at 9-you'd think with 250 friends I'd out and socializing.  Anyways when I actually looked at my list I had people I haven't talked to in over a year, people I met just once or people who never commented or contributed any juicy gossip to my newsfeed.  I finally got rid of "Mrs. It's mmmooonnndddaay"..trust me I have Rebecca Black if I need help remembering the days of the week.  I'm always worried about the backlash thought.  99% of people won't notice but there is always one person who acts like defriending is a form of is a huge insult.  It's like you peed in their coffee, but then again if you remove someone from Facebook they no longer exist in real life....
6. Dave's Desk:  Here there be dragons.  Seriously, I can't even go there.  I think the only way to clean that mess up is to dump lighter fluid and take a match to it.  Even then I'd have to vacuum the mess it left behind.  Come to think about it, I do have lighter fluid, it's in the bathroom under the sink cabinet right next to the 2 10 gallon jugs of u-brew wine (mental note: baby proof that cabinet..)
7. Hall Closet:  What's even worse is the closet door doesn't close so all our shame is out in the open for everyone to see. Both Dave and I wear the same DC shoes everyday (well different pairs each) but for some reason our closet is full of shoes.  They're not even *nice* shoes.  I mean they were at some point but a lot of them are worn out or half broken.  It's more of a shoe graveyard.

So there you have it.  I'm almost done cleaning out those problem areas but still have a lot of work to do.  Plus now I got to get Dave and the BAT to haul our junk away...before December...

Oh Marge, you get it don't you?

Sweet Elijah

I usually don't write anything serious on my blog. In fact I usually keep it light and entertaining. However today is a different kind of post. Today is a special day for me. It may be just another Thursday for you but March 08 2010 is when my fairy tale turned into a horror story. Today is my son's second birthday. I don't mention my son a lot in this blog, in fact I use this blog as an escape from the everyday horror and stark reality I face being a bereaved parent. My logic is that you're doing okay as long as you can keep laughing and finding humor in the small everyday things. Grief is a long journey with its ups and downs, its when you can't cope with life anymore that it becomes depression. That is the difference, not time it takes to "heal".
Most of you know the story of Elijah so I'm not going to tell you it. But in case you just came across my blog and name for the first time today (lucky you), I had a son in 2010, he was full-term and born after 41wks of gestation. He was injured during labor and never recovered. His life was very brief totaling 14hours.
To be honest I don't want to do this, I don't want to be this, I don't want to have to sit here and acknowledge that another year has passed since I last saw-last kissed my son. I know that today will pass-silently-and I also know I'll get through it, I always do. In fact this is just the passing of the storm, the build up started weeks ago. Sometimes the dread of the event is worse than the actual day. Because what really can I do? My son is dead, it happened, he's not going to come walking through those doors anytime soon. I gave up on counseling, until they can cure death, it won't make things right. Everyday starts with a deep breathe, a prayer and then one foot in front of the other. You learn to live and rebuild-you learn to survive. It doesn't mean I only think of him once a year. No, I think about him every.single.day. The events that span March 07-March 08 affect every event and my perspective. Sometimes it jades things, other times it makes things better. Regardless of what my future has for me, Elijah has taught me to survive and persist. It has taught me a lot about being humble and grateful. I'm not saying I'm a better parent than someone who hasn't lost a child, but I'm definitely a better parent to my own than I would have been if I hadn't experienced loss.

So how was the second year of grief? Once again being brutally honest it was pure hell. The first year was in fact easier for me. Your mind puts you in a fog to protect itself. You sort of walk around in a daze. Your child died, and that's as far as it goes. The second year, at first little memories sink in, and as you get better at coping with that the details come pouring in. It is time to process the event, to come to terms. The safety of your cocoon is ripped off and you are exposed. Let me tell you something-the mind is great at capturing every little detail, every little sound. The hardest part of it however is you want to talk, but people around you have already put the event behind them. You're dwelling on it. Get over it. The second year is by far the most isolating. Sometimes you isolate yourself, I know I struggled with a lot of shame-why can't I just move on? Luckily I have a lot of supportive friends and a family that doesn't stop amazing me. There are so many acts of kindness I've experienced from Christmas tree ornaments, to grave ornaments to simple texts when I'm down. I hold comfort in knowing that as I enter year three it's going to be gentler. I've heard on many accounts from bereaved parents is the first 2 years are the hardest and then of course milestone years but by the third year time is already putting up that buffer between you and the pain.
I'm not asking for pity, I just want to feel like a normal human being again. A part of you dies when you bury a child and what's left behind is seriously messed up. For the last year I've lived the same day every single night. I can tell you the exact beeping and clicking sound of the life support machines, when I close my eyes I can see Elijah's chest moving up and down. I remember the first time seeing all the tubes in his body. Elijah didn't die on his own, he was on life support. He died by my hands, I made the call to end life support. I remember holding him, and listening as the machines shut off. I remember begging him to breathe-it can't be that hard I've been doing it for 26yrs without a second thought. I remember him trying to -and failing, I remember the sound his chest made as I held him. I remember staring at him and watching him grow cold and still and blue. I don't regret taking him off life support, for us a miracle is going to happen off the machines-the machines would have kept him in status-quo. It was the last act a mother could do for her child, relieve him of the pain and suffering-to have mercy. Keeping him here would be for my benefit not his. Part of me regrets doing it so soon, I wish I took the time to look at him, cuddle him and read to him. I didn't even count his toes until a week later at the funeral home. I don't believe in ghosts, but I believe that places can be haunted. If you walk down the halls of Children's Hospital and you feel like it's haunted, I'm pretty sure it's not the souls of the children that passed away but the souls of the parents that had to say goodbye. I know in my mind I tread that hallway over and over again. Most bereaved parents will tell you the most aweful experience is walking down the hospital halls empty handed. I see other things, I see my son's tiny blue casket sitting in the cold March ground, I see flowers being thrown in the grave.
How do I feel today? The last few months I've been choking back silent rage and frustration. People say that life isn't fair-and it isn't. It wasn't fair that I got to hold my beautiful son for a few hours only to have him ripped away. It was like I was a few steps away from the finish line only to trip and stumble and break my leg. It isn't fair that they messed up my episomety and I'm in constant pain and discomfort even today. I will eventually have to get it re-cut and re-constructed. It isn't fair the 10s of thousands of dollars of debt we nearly drowned under or the fact that in our first year of marriage is soaked in grief. When I look at my wedding pictures my heart sinks- I was 3months pregnant. I look and see all the promise, hope and true happiness in our eyes. I'd love to see it again in my husband or myself. It isn't fair that Lily not only lost a brother but in a way she lost part of her mom. There are firsts she's had that are drenched in sadness, seen through tears. I'm just happy that mentally I'll be better equipped when she starts building memories.
What about the silence? The silence that takes up every single spare space. The silence between me and friends. The silence between husband and wife. The silence of the cemetery. There is a joke on "Family Guy" that rings true, after Joe loses his teenage kid Peter says "bereaved parents are so awkward. If you don't mention their kid, they get upset, if you do they get upset". It's true, to be honest there are many times I am face to face with a bereaved parent and I have no idea what to say.
So what is it like being a bereaved parent? It's like the story of "the little mermaid". Not the PC Disney version but the old version where after getting her legs, every step Ariel takes is pure agony, it's like walking on broken glass. Broken glass that is the shattered remains of your formal life.

People ask me if I've lost faith, if I'm angry at god. The simple answer is no. Thing is, in the whole bible, no where does it say life is going to be great and easy. It just doesn't happen. God's most devoted followers suffered the most-look at poor Job, and he never once got mad at god for losing his keys. I need to know that this isn't the end of Elijah's story. That one day I will see him again and that his life was part of something bigger. I don't want to be at the cemetary saying to myself, yes that is it. That was his life.
There is so much more I can write about. About that day, about the last two years. However I am typing this out on my IPhone and I think I'll stop there.


*Love you Elijah, my baby boy forever you'll be.*

~In loving memory of Elijah Lachlan McRoberts. Born March 08 2010 12:01AM-2:45PM~

My Baby is One Today

Today is Lily's First birthday.  She is no longer an infant but a toddler.
     Despite all our best efforts-dropping her, accidentally dislocating her arm, feeding her honey and peanuts- she has made it to one.  I remember when we first brought her home.  We had no clue what we were doing.  The best the government of Canada could do education-wise was give us a book entitled "Baby's Best Chance" (how encouraging) before sending us on our way.  Seriously, they'll fail me three times for my learner's permit for driving but they don't even quiz me on a few basic parenting issues?  BTW that book makes an excellent paperweight, I so didn't read it, maybe next kid....The problem with kids is as soon as you master one thing they enter a new phase making your old skill set completely useless.  Like you finally learn which way the diaper goes (sticky tabs at the back) and next thing you know you have to potty train them.  You finally get them to take a bottle and BAM if you're not cup feeding them you're rotting their teeth out of their head.  The way I see it, the first two years are a freebie-your kid won't remember it so they won't rat you out to their therapist.  After 2 you pretty much have to clean up your act, otherwise she's dating bikers-or worse-a hipster vegan (I still don't know what you did to Kirstin mom...).
  We had a pretty quiet day today, spent it with my family.  We're having a party on Saturday so there was no real need to get all crazy today.  Since we just had Christmas, Lily got the best toys the clearance bins offered.  But seriously, she still doesn't really understand what a present is and half the time the magic is just the box it comes in.  I fear the day once she starts knowing what she actually wants and has expectations.  I wrapped her present with extra care, since I know presentation is everything:

How I wrapped her present:  She doesn't know the difference.  Plus the Santa sort of looks like mommy at the moment.

We bought her fridge magnets, not just any fridge magnets but educational ones.  They cost me $20 and already I want to throw them in the trash.  It's the one where you are suppose to mix and match pictures of vehicles and it plays music.  Besides being incredibly annoying, the thing has an attitude.  Seriously, it's the most obnoxious and condescending toy I've encountered yet.  If you incorrectly match a car with a plane, it will go "a car-plane??" like you just told it you saw a two butted unicorn or told it you don't believe in the internet.  It'll then tell you you're silly and play a tune mocking you about how a car train would never run correctly if one existed.  Like try again dumb ass.  I'm sorry I didn't raise a Mensa baby leapfrog. Maybe by the time she's 16 a car-plane will exist!  Also right on the box it says be careful not to drop the unit.  What's the first thing Lily does? Monster Lily smash on floor!!  Chances are this thing will be broken in a few days anyways.

A car-train?  You can shine it up, but so you know, a car train-it won't go.  Leap frog fridge magnets is very disappointed in you Lily.

 I also bought her a rocking horse, just a $14 simple one.  It plays no music which makes me happy.  I'm pretty sure however she will find a way to propel herself off it and into the piano so she'll have a nice shiner on Saturday.  We also had a bit of a dress up day-well that's my "fun" name for getting rid of stuff.  Since she's a year old it was time to go through her clothes and toys.  I have a "bring something in the house, take something out" policy so we don't end up on TLC hoarders.  So I spent the day strutting Lily on the catwalk seeing what fit and what didn't, hello TLC toddlers and tiaras!  She has already mastered looking in the mirror and kissing her reflection.  I ended up picking out a fun little tutu outfit for tonight and as I was leaving the apartment a lady asked me if Lily was starting to pick out her own clothes.  I said no and she then quickly added she looked nice. Ouch. Fail.

My mommy dresses me like an 80's informercial...and I get blamed for this mess!

My parents bought Lily an ice cream cake, it was her first time trying chocolate.  I enjoyed watching her shovel in a big piece of cake and then shudder and screech when she got brain freeze, again and again.  I should have brought her fridge magnet toy-it would probably have a song to mock her about that.
        Anyways as usual, Lily got spoiled and we had a great day.  Tomorrow we will be doing the final prep work for Lily's big party on Saturday.  

Finding Hobby

I'm trying to find myself a new hobby.  Something that I can call my own and tell people about without their eyes glazing over.  Being a housewife is not the most exciting career and there are only so many cat stories that leave people wanting more.  I use to be a well balanced person, that is if you included drinking and clubbing well balanced-but hey at least I was getting out and doing something. Plus it would be nice to have something to do when Dave is working nights and I'm stuck at home watching reruns of the Bob Newhart Show.  
I've been struggling to figure out what to do, what would really speak to me.  I've always been a person who knows what she hates but has no idea what she likes (a career counsellor's nightmare) and I have the added bonus of being mediocre at everything.  Seriously, my talent is being a solid C.  I went to my husband to ask his sage advice because that is apparently what you do when you're married.  He suggested that I collect my farts in a jar (I wish this statement was exaggerated for comic relief but sadly this is a direct quote).  I am not about to do that so I did some soul searching to figure out what I might like.  After that ended up as a bust I did the next best thing-I googled "How to find a hobby" on my IPhone and luckily didn't get porn.  Instead I stumbled upon a few pages that listed hobbies that I could do:

• Collect Stamps-The neat freak in me would never allow for any type of hobby that involves collecting.  Sure it starts off as a stamp collection but next thing you know you're on TLC's Horders explaining why your living room is full of doll heads and cats.  To be honest I would get more pleasure in throwing out my collections behind my back (just like my favourite couple activity called "throw out Dave's crap").
• Woodworking-A very useful skill, especially considering I live with a 24lbs termite and all our furniture has matching bite marks.  However I enjoy having 10 fingers and anything that involves the possibility of changing that number is out of the question.  Not only that but I live in an apartment, how many bird houses do I really need?
• Dance-Now I actually enjoy dance and have taken many types in the past.  However, in my current condition I can't allow any activity that would require me to wear spandex: Someone has got to think of the children...
• Learning a second Language- It has taken me 28years (and counting) to fully master my first.  When I run spell check on my blog the computer grinds and the Internet slows down to a near halt and when your light flickers at 10PM every evening? That's me trying to run my grammar check. 
• Renaissance Fairs- I'd rather collect my farts in a jar thankyouverymuch.
• Knitting-I bought myself a "teach yourself kit" a few weeks ago.  Opened the first page of the booklet and it looked like advance algebra.  I got stuck on the part where it asked me to make a slipknot.  The only Slipknot I know is that band from the 90s and its not my type of music.  Needless to say, the kit, yarn and needles have been sitting in the back of my closet ever since.
• Beading: out of the question with a 11month old unless they also include a first aid course.  The kid eats everything on the carpet, I caught her trying to eat Styrofoam the other day (WTF? Why?).  Plus I live in Maple Ridge, its bad enough already without beading my velour tracksuit and crocs.
• Crochet- Looks and sounds too much like crotch, and when you've been as pregnant for as long as I have you don't want to set yourself up for any running jokes.
• DIY- I'm sure Dave would lllooovvee this, first project: knock down all the walls in the apartment. On the plus side I could get myself an appearance on Holmes on Homes.
• pyrography- Emo for beginners (first burning holes in woods, up next, your arms!)

Anyways, this site had 101 hobby ideas and I managed to find a reason why I hated each one of them.  The search continues... 

PS-Anyone have any glass jars I can borrow?

Butterscotch Tears

  Well it is finally time.  Time for my gestational diabetes test.  I've been putting it off for a week now but I realise that I have to go in and get it over with soon.  When my doctor wrote me up the lab request it was like the hammer falling-*boom* playtime over. My mom tells me to be positive, maybe I WON'T have it this time around, what I don't tell her is how I had chocolate chips for breakfast, and those chocolate covered macadamia nuts?  Dave didn't eat the whole box..I did.  Truth be told, I do not need to take a test, they do not have to take a sample, I can tell them the answer they need to know.  In fact I'm pretty sure if they tried to draw blood, they would draw buttercream icing instead.  How do I know for sure? I was there for Christmas, I saw the candy carnage.  Let's just say when I exercise my sweat smells like gingerbread cookies.  Next year Santa will be sitting on MY lap telling me what HE wants for Christmas.  I am armed with a sweet tooth and ready to use it.
  The worst thing about gestational diabetes is the diet.  First of all the fridge is my siren and pantry is the jagged rocks I crash on.  I enjoy eating, its sorta my hobby.  Not only this but the diabetic diet makes no sense.  I have been on many diets in my lifetime and most focus on calories in, calories out and eat less and exercise more and you'll lose weight.  The diabetic diet is all about carbs and sugar and you know what? Everything has carbs and sugar and sometimes the go-to-healthy foods have the most in it!  I can put butter on my whole plate of pork chops and be fine but heaven forbid I have a whole banana or more then 12 grapes.
  The second issue is that I live with a man, my husband.  Like most men he will revolt if there is nothing but healthy "diet" food in the house.  The problem is that he brings it home, puts it in his designated candy dish and promptly forgets about it.  Unfortunately I have a photographic memory when it comes to sweets and I remember every little shred of junk food that is in that dish and very slowly I start eating it.  After Christmas was done I had to put our candy dish in front of him and make him finish it after my pants attempted to garrote me.  Dave doesn't understand why a mars bar and I cannot co-exist in the same house but that would be like putting a lion and a zebra in a 900 square foot apartment and tell them to behave-not going to happen.
   I could go into the other downsides of gestational diabetes like jabbing yourself with needles but really if I could choose between chocolate and needles? Jab away! So wish me luck, if I do test positive again I will guarantee that I will cry sweet butterscotch tears of sorrow but on the flip side body parts other then my stomach will thank me when I'm not delivering a 20lbs baby.