Bread Crumbs In The Butter

In which I got handslapped

Today, I called one of my BFFs to give her some great news (dude, I got a great new job in Canada Post!) and ended up being told.

"You've totally fallen of the wagon. You were supposed to post every day for a month. I click through every morning. You've missed two days!"

I honestly don't know how this woman's kids can ever disappoint her on purpose. Cause seriously my friends, if she ever gives you what-for you'll be an apologetic mess. 

"I just don't have anything to say!" I cried out in defense.

"So say that you don't have anything to say!" she told me. "But make it funny."

So yeah. No pressure.

I really don't have anything to say.  My kids are healthy. My job is good. John is looking all sorts of yummy lately.  What can I tell you?

I could tell you that there are days where if I see one more sweet old lady count out fifty-four pennies, I might drive my truck into the Mississippi River (we have one here in Almonte too.)

I could tell you that Alex is again not wearing underwear and I'm getting impatient.  I really hope he'll give them a try one day, but I doubt it.  He's digging his heals in here and it's stressing me out. You have to wear underwear!  It's like, a rule!

Or, how I got a load of the empty wine bottles in my pantry and was even the slightest bit embarrassed. I was actually quite proud to have sucked back that much vino on my own. It's like a Mom's version of a beer can divider wall.

How about that I bent my engagement ring at work? I showed John and he said "Aw, babe. That sucks. I should get you a new one!" and I yelled out "REALLY!?"  and he snorted and said "No, babe, not really."

As it happens, I could tell you so much more, but the Gleevas are on their way to watch Glee. I spent FIFTY BUCKS on junk food. It's gonna be a good time.

Coughing Update

Remember my post about poor Meg and her coughing?  Serendipitous timing had her asthma specialist's office calling me the very next day to remind me of her upcoming bi-annual appointment.

Her lung function is so good that he thinks perhaps Meg's coughing is more allergy and post-nasal drip related than asthma.  She does have asthma, but it only flares up when she has a cold or through too much strenuous activity.  So he has taken her off the Advair and put her on Siymbicort, which is designed to help allergy affected asthmatics. We're going to see how that goes.  He has also taken her off the Singulair and added a stronger allergy medication.

So far, Meg has been sleeping beautifully at night.  He said we would see results pretty quickly and so far, we're very pleased.

Her facial eczema has cleared up and the dark circles under her eyes are gone.  She looks rested and she's more focused.  More importantly, I'm not laying awake at night worrying that she's going to cough herself to the point of vomiting.  Cause dude, cleaning up puke at 3am is fun for nobody.

In Which We Debate (Another Glee Post)

In one of my recent posts, I let you know I was on my way to a friend's to Gleek my ass off.  It was fabulous.  We drank, we ate, we then watched Cougar Town and wondered together what sort of elixir Courtney Cox is drinking.

Anyhow, during the show, we had a dangerous almost all-out brawl round table discussion debating the balanced opinions of Finn vs Puck.  I thought it was worth bringing the discussion to you, dear internet.

Here are my views as of 4:41 pm Saturday (subject to change at 9:08pm on Wednesday).

As of now, both Puck and Finn have taken big chances and sung my two most favourite songs. It's almost as though the producers of Glee have some sort of futuristic chip in my brain that sends signals as to what will equally make me want to cry and turn me on.   When Puck sang Sweet Caroline, I held in a breath until I realized just how insanely hot he made that song.  He made me feel things Neil Diamond never did.

And this week, they had Finn singing "I'll Stand By You", a song I can't listen to without crying.  Okay, so singing to the sonogram was sort of lame, but all in all, the sentimental cheesiness had me a bit of a quiver, I gotta saw.

Puck has this raw, animal look to him. Like he'd rip you apart, in a very good way.  Cause guys, as much as chicks say they want a guy to look at them like they're sweet delicate flowers, what they really want is some hot ass guy in a mohawk to look at them like he wants to devour them.

But, Finn, oh Finn.  He has this adorable good boy, blushing baby face that makes me want to give him cookies and milk and then show him a thing or two about how to um ... make cookies.  At the same time, he's got some chiseled features that make him quite nicely manly.

For me, it's close in the end, but overall, Finn wins out.  It might be the height factor, as I don't think Puck is taller than I am.  And yes, when you're six feet tall, you go for the dude with the height advantage.  When it's that close, you have no choice!

Okay, so discuss ...

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Alex's little speech at dinner.

"Oh my God, Mommy. You are the best cook! Your food is so awesome. This steak sandwich is so good. You're the best cook.  And the best Mom.  And the best lunch maker. And the best shower starter. And the best tucker inner. And the best hugger.  You have hair that smells pretty and you always look nice, even in your jammies that are all ripped in the bum.  You make my bed smell good and you're always happy to see me. God this sandwich is good."

I should make this kid steak sandwiches more often!

Gone Glee

Sorry everyone, but tonight is filled with pure pajamaja stylin', singing into your hairbrush, wine drinking Glee goodness.

I'm leaving to watch Glee with three of my favourite Gleevas.

And as proof that I'm really in my jammies and the fact that I share way too much with you internet, here is me in my room not thirty seconds ago!
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Battle Stories

Every family has those little anecdotal stories that sets them apart.  Stories you tell amoungst friends, at parties or as you sit in a bar drinking a pint or two.

Before I had a family of my own, my mothers favourite stories to tell were mostly about my birth - a crazy family legend that got more and more gory as it got told.  I was something of a large baby (ten pounds out of a barely 5 foot woman!) and true to my "do nothing halfway" style, was practically born in a cab less than one hour after he water broke.

Or she told folks of the time an entire shelf and television fell on my sister when she was about four years old.  Even I can still remember what it was like to see a piece of her should bone through the gash.

And, um, sometimes she would mention about that time I lit my sister on fire, but we won't go there tonight.

Now, I have four children of my own.  I would be purposely coy if I told you we didn't have some doozeys of our own.

Here's just a few:

• When Erin, now 11, was about 6 weeks old, she had a hair wrapped so tightly around her toe, it needed surgery.  We figured it out after a night of extreme crankiness, more so than usual for this colicky baby.   It was one of the most surreal things we've ever had happen. Just plain odd.  Apparently it's pretty common and CHEO sees a few cases a month!

• Again Erin.  When she was 3 years old she caught her finger in the mechanism of our patio door nearly chopping off the tip of her finger.  It was literally hanging on by her nail bed. More surgery for this little pumpkin.

• When Meghan was born she had so much hair that the nurses kept coming in to have a look at this baby.  They all told me she would lose it, but I kid you not, I braided her hair at her first birthday party.

• Alternatively, Kristyn was so bald, we had to put sunblock on her head.  She had no hair until she was over three years old.

• When Alex was a baby up until he was almost 3, he had seizures that we never quite figured out. Two were febrile, but two had nothing to do with fevers at all.  Oh, and I've mentioned this before but he spent days in the hospital with a rare and very oddly named heart condition. Those are necessarily funny, but I tell those stories a lot.

Those are the highlights for us and the ones that spring to mind as I write.  I'd love to hear some of your freaky family battle stories!

These chicks can party

We built it up for weeks.

Then days.

Then hours.

As we counted down on Facebook and Twitter and arranged for all of our kids to scatter amoungst various grandparents (for the entire night) we promised ourselves we would shut Elgin St down.

I was a little apprehensive, I thought for sure we'd be in bed by 11pm, but boy did we do it right.

We drank, we ate (and oh hell how we ate!), danced, drank and then gave poor John, our designated driver a ride home he probably should have had ear plugs for! 

In the end, we rolled in at 3am.  I did so many things right and woke up at 10am fresh as a daisy and ready for the day. Even if I did need a nap at 4pm!

Us three chicks showed those youngens how it's down.  We danced our asses off in our high heeled boots and shirts held together with safety pins MacGyvered over gin and tonics.

We rocked.

But my feet hurt.

Bullety Edition 47; Hit the town

• Our house is still for sale.  That said, soon our house will no longer be for sale. I think we're about ready to take it off the market for a bit.  I am sort of breathing a sigh of relief right now. The showings were insane and while no one had anything bad to say, not one family seemed ready to take on the responsibility that comes with a property like this.  Not to mention the idea of downsizing a ninety-five acre farm that has housed the same family for a couple generations is a bit daunting!

• Tonight, John and I and two other couples are headed out on the town. The best part?  All three of us have our kids out elsewhere with grandparents for the night.  We are gonna hit the town, eat like kings, dance like queens and come home to have loud sex that no one can hear.  Old person translation?  We're gonna eat like kings all right, but we're gonna have bad gas and food coma afterward, feel fat and old next to all the hot skinny chicks in the bar and fall asleep before midnight.

• I have a whole post swirling about Alex and how much he is excelling in first grade.  He's reading voraciously,  passing spelling tests like crazy and explaining his sisters math to them! It really speaks to my own previous stigma that trouble speaking equals trouble learning. I could not be more wrong and I feel ashamed.

• It took this familyl only 14 days to eat all the Halloween candy we got.  And I mean all of it.  Little bits of crap and all. We even ate the rockets and gummies that look like they've been in someone's garage since they were old enough to trick or treat!  Way to go Huberts! I'm quite proud.

A Split Second

We were in a department store.

I was looking at tee shirts and she was right next to me.

She said "Mommy, I'm just going to get a sip of water from that fountain right there."

Totally out of character in public, where everyone is plotting to steal my child, I just nodded and let her go off.

Before getting back to me, she must have caught sight of her sister who I had said could go look at earrings and shoes, in another aisle.  She must have decided it was fine to go with her.  She tells me now that she knew she was safe.  I didn't.

I looked over one shoulder and mumbled "Meg..." as I sized up a really cute ruffled shirt.

No answer.

I looked up and around and behind me and said, louder, "Meghan."

No tiny little shadow anywhere around me.

I looked over to the water fountain, down one aisle, down another.  I ran into the washrooms, to where they keep the purses and belts and jewelery.  She was not in any of those places.  I started to get frantic. I wondered if perhaps as she was sipping her water someone noticed she was alone and just scooped her up.   Or, maybe she had come back to where I had been and was gone and now she was running frantic like I was?

With my heart pounding, my head whirling and my hands shaking, I went back to the tee shirts and still, no Meg.

How I managed to say "Excuse me?" to a clerk is beyond me.

The clerk could see I was upset so she looked a little panicked.

"Have you seen a little girl. She is wearing a black coat, brown skirt and red tights.  She has brown hair and brown eyes and she coughs a lot. You can hear her cough if you listen! Can you page her? Please page Meghan to come back here.  She won't know where here is, but at least you can let her  know I'm looking for her."

The tiny little clerk didn't freak, but she ran from me.  I totally forgot they have procedure for stuff like this - procedures where they shut everything down.  But I thought "Screw it. Find me my kid!"

As she talked to a manager I started to run.  I ran and I yelled and I didn't care who thought I was nuts.  I had on a wool turtleneck and my whole upper body was stinging and itching with sweat from my panic. 

I stopped suddenly.  And I knew it was her. Just like I had told the clerk, if you listened, you could hear her cough.  I heard her cough.  It was the best sound in the entire world.

There she was. Smiling and laughing with her big sister in the pet department. So not a cool place for them to be without me knowing, but they won't do it again.  It was better than where she could have been.  At that point, she could have been buying a fish for all I cared.

I scooped her tiny little body up and didn't even have the heart to scold her or her sister.  We found the clerk, thanked her and assured the manager that we were okay.

I never, ever, want to relive those minutes where I didn't know where she was. I know she's not the first to do this. Hell, I did it to my mother!  Still, not knowing where your child could be?  Killer. Awful. Complete and total kick you in the gut pain.

Wine waits me now. Well deserved I think.

What passes as a post for Thursday.

You know what's awesome? Laying proudly in bed at 9pm watching Fringe and realizing you forgot to lay something down on your blog and then remembering you bought a fancy red Blackberry just for stuff like this.

And so you blog while doing what I've pictured here.

Yes, that's my skinny freezing foot, awesome new flannel sheets and sexy flannel pajamas. And now we've cemented the fact that I share too much with you, Internet.
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