July 31, 2006

Hey, I totally survived staying in a cottage! I think maybe because it had indoor plumbing, a washer and dryer and a full size kitchen. Not that I cook per say but because I can watch others cook and then eat comfortably and that’s important to my well being. Plus I could shower and do my hair and makeup and that’s even more important to my well being. The drive there, however, was a little crappy since it started to rain and all of our luggage was in the back of the truck (well except mine because I refused to put mine there and placed it nicely inbetween my children and I’m pyscho pyschic and knew it would rain) and I had suggested to hubby that he get a tarp and he said we wouldn’t need it. Ah huh.
We arrived Friday around supper time and decided to grab a bite to eat and then took the kids down to the beach. The weather was colder there than here in Calgary and quite windy but our rugrats didn’t care at all. They barged towards the water like crazy Storm Troopers and although they were turning a weird shade of purple-y blue, they continued to jump and splash in the cold lake.
While they were out in the water, which they could walk out a long way before it got deep, Ryan noticed the buoys. As we’re sitting up the little hill on the bench, he hollers up to us…”What are those white and blue things”? “Oh they’re buoys”, I holler back. “What? Really”? “Yes honey, really”. “Why are there boobies in the water”? “Ummm no no no, not boobies, buoys.” Sheesh. It starts early.
Miss decided she would play in the sand as well as swim. But she didn’t just want to build sandcastles. Oh no, not my daughter. She wanted to dig for buried treasure. She just knew there was a fancy jewelled filled box waiting to be dug up. We wished her luck.
Between the romps in the sand, the splashes in the water, there was much laughter, amazement that they were really at a real beach, were allowed to stay up late, eat junk, get sand in their pants and get dirty and noone cared.
There were moments of huddling together in towels to get warm only to drop them seconds later to run back to the cold water and pretend there were sharks and alligators in there with them. Well they did really think that there was at first because their dad was having fun yelling “shark” and “alligator” a few times. A 14 year old in a man’s body. You should have heard the screams.
The scenery was so pretty and lush and reminded us of where we’re from originally, so it was almost like we were visiting our home in the east. The kids really had a such a great time that I definately want to rent a cabin next summer and even bring our older offspring, as I think they’d love it too, plus they could cook for me. They weren’t able to come this time since they all had to work. Sucks being an adult sometimes eh?
As the sun was setting, the kids splashed and giggled in the water and my husband looked at me and said, “You’re turning 55 tomorrow right”? He’s so romantic. Oh the crazy lazy days of summer.

I’m pretty sure I got a memo one time saying that when a chick turns 39, she gets money and diamonds. And by pretty sure, I mean I was drunk and stoned heard it on the news or something. I’ll patiently wait while you run to the banking machine and the diamond store. *Tapping foot impatiently*


I guess now that I’ve turned 39, I’m supposed to ‘hold’. Hey everyone I’m 39 and holding. Holding onto what? That I do not know the answer to. If and when I figure it out, I will hold a press conference and you’ll be the very first to know. I can tell you care.


Anyway, my birthday was fairly uneventful as far as birthday stuff goes. As I mentioned a few sentences ago, I didn’t get any money or diamonds (as per that memo or the news or the licquer) but I’m hopeful that when I wake up in the morning, my doorbell will ring because there will be a delivery man standing on my doorstep holding my money and diamonds that you’ve all so kindly sent to me. I’ll thank you in advance. Thank you.


Okay, I’m off to bed to get ready for the first day of my last year of my 30’s. Hopefully it will start off really well because you’re all sending me money and diamonds. I smell a hint. Or maybe it’s just poo vapours. I’m not sure. Anyway, I’ve said money and diamonds 863 times, so that means my wish will come true. Yay I’m getting money and diamonds tomorrow. I love that you all love me that much to send such extravagant gifts (money and diamonds, geez do I really have to keep reminding you?), it sure means alot.


Money and diamonds, money and diamonds, money and diamonds…………………….

July 28, 2006

I’m going camping. Well not camping exactly but we’re heading to a cottage for the weekend that my brother in law rented. I had my nails done yesterday just for the occassion. Because that’s what you do when you find out you’re roughing it for 3 days, you get your nails pretty.


My daughter has talked about ‘the adventure’ (that’s how I’m labeling it as opposed to disaster) non stop for days now. “I can’t believe I’m really going to a real beach”. That’s the line I’ve heard most. She’s gone to a real beach before,that was back in NB, which there are lots of beaches but here in Cowtown, well not so much.


I’ve got most of the packing done and I was warned to pack light. Now by light do you mean we won’t take the kitchen sink? Because that’s how I take it. We’re leaving around noon-ish and will get there around 3pm and stay until Sunday around suppertime. So really not even there for 3 days. More like 2 and a half, yet I’ve packed enough clothes to outfit a small army and then some. My feeling is you never know what ‘clothing mood’ you’ll be in. You know, like do I really want to wear the black capris and pink tee today or do I feel like wearing the cute jeans and a green tank top? That’s the dilemma of my daily life. Hard I know.


I even bought new clothes for ‘the adventure’, because, well, when you’re sitting on a wet, dirty, pebbley beach and your kids are throwing sand pies at you, you wanna look nice. Plus you don’t want people, you know, strangers, looking at you and thinking, ‘omg that bathing suit looks like something from 2004′. That is just unacceptable to me. Speaking of bathing suits, I packed my daughter 4 of them. And it killed me not to put another couple in the bag. I know what you’re thinking……how could she NOT put at least 2 more in the bag, but I didn’t. What kind of mother am I? Oh the shame.


It’s funny, my husband said to me that he only wanted 2 shirts, 2 pairs of underwear, one pair of shorts, one pair of jeans and one pair of swimming shorts. That’s it. That’s not normal. How can you pack like that? I mean, what if, you get to the cottage, and you want to change your clothes? Well then you’re in a dilemma because all you’ve got is the clothes you have for Saturday and Sunday. Nothing extra, you know (as we discussed earlier) if you get in a ‘clothing mood’ and want to change into something different. Well you can’t, you’re screwed. So I snuck in a couple extra shirts, another pair of pants, about 5 pair of underwear, a long sleeved shirt incase of cold weather, a flashlight, batteries, a wrench, bandaids, extra soap, pens, crackers, water bottles, spoons (hey don’t try to figure out the logic), nail clippers, paper, lightbulbs, soup and just about any other thing you can think of, except the kitchen sink. I did restrain from putting in the kitchen sink. I deserve praise for that.


And you know what’s funny? The cottage comes equipped with everything one needs except clothes and food, yet I still packed extra stuff. It’s a sickness I think. But it could be worse right? I could have the kind of sickness that makes me punch clowns in the face or throw poo from rooftops. Nope don’t have that kind of sickness. I just have the kind of sickness that makes you want to over pack but in my mind I don’t see it as over packing. I see it as being prepared. Big freakin’ difference. Anyhoo, I must finish my obsessive over packing packing and get showered. Wish me luck on our disaster adventure and I will see you on Monday.


Happy Happy weekend to all. *Note to self……..gosh my nails look pretty while I’m typing* Blink Blink Blink.

July 26, 2006

I once won $50 bucks on a scratch card. I also won bingo one time and was awarded $23. I won a stuffed animal at a fair a long time ago. And now? Now? Now, I’ve won an award people! Can you believe it? I won The Really Fucking Stupid Blog Awards. Isn’t that fabulous? My catagory was ‘blogger most likely to have a fake tooth (or teeth) . And Lord knows I gots me some fake too-fers. I’d like to read you my acceptance speech.


*Ahem, clears throat* I’d like to thank God. I’m not sure why, but that’s what all them there celebrities do on them there award shows say, so fuck it, I’m sayin’ it too.


I’d like to thank Karen because she sent in my nomination. She loves my fake teeth. And my fake tan. And my fake boobies. Oh wait, I haven’t gotten around to getting the fake tits yet. But I know she’ll love them when I do get them.


I’d like to thank all the fans out there, who took the time out of their busy day to vote for me. You love me. You really love me. Gosh, I just wet my pants.


I’d also like to say congratulations to all the nominees and a special holla to my buddy Ozy, who won for the Ultimate Comment Whore. Now that’s a title. Congrats Dan! (He does write some kick ass poetry). Check him out!


Okay, I’ll be back later but right now I’ve got to find my tiara and feather boa and put them on because I’m a popular bizatch for the day. You know ’cause of my fake teeth an’ all.

July 24, 2006

I don’t know where my daughter comes up with the things she does, really I have no idea. I guess she takes after her mother father.


After about, oh say, one YEAR, we finally got around to getting the carpet layer dude back to finish the downstairs. He had come last August and did most of it but didn’t finish the hall or the giant area at the bottom of the stairs or over by the bathroom. I’m not quite certain the reason for not completing it all last year but let’s just relish in the fact that it’s done now. Finally.


We get home after our excursion out for the day and the kids ran excitedly downstairs to see the finished results. This is what we hear:


Miss: Wow, it’s so different down here. HOLY SHIT!


Mr B: I don’t like it. I like it the old way.


Miss: No, it looks way better now with the carpet. Holy shit I can’t believe it.


Mr B: I don’t like it. It’s different. (can you tell my 10 year old doesn’t like change?) (Oh and notice my not quite 6 year old has said holy shit twice.)


They come back upstairs and I call Miss over to the table.


Me: Ummm Maddy what did you just say downstairs?


Miss: I was commenting on the carpet getting done.


Me: Ah huh. I’m waiting.


Miss: Oh ya. I said ‘holy shit’.


Me: Right. We heard you. That’s a bad word. The shit part.


Miss: Oh is it? *Blink Blink Blink* I didn’t know that. Wait. Well okay, I did know that BUT I just couldn’t believe how much better the downstairs looked so I felt like I had to say holy shit.


Me: Ah ya, well let’s try to think of a different word when you’re impressed about something shall we?


Miss: Sure.


Later, we’re getting them ready for bed but first, they want to see some of what I video taped on our day out today. Hubby is leaning up against the couch and he’s in a tee shirt and boxers, kinda half sitting, half standing. The kids are waiting for me to turn on the video camera and as Miss turns around, she says to her father:


Miss: Ah dad, look down.


Hubby: What? He looks down to see his, err, ah, manhood starting to peek out a teeny tiny bit from the opening in his boxers. Oooops. Sorry.


Miss: Ah ya, is the donkey trying to get outta the barn dad? What?????


Hubby: Ah, well, err, I guess so. Again, I’m sorry.


We look at each other, burst out laughing, as Miss stands there as serious as the day is long. We’re both wondering where on earth his our daughter comes up with this stuff. We continue watching our video and then hubby puts the kids to bed. After they’re both tucked in, he goes and jumps in the shower. About a minute or so later, Maddy gets up and decides she needs to use the bathroom. Hubby hollers to her and tells her the door isn’t locked so she can go ahead and use the toilet while he’s in the shower. As he’s getting clean, he’s bombarded with questions from Miss GottaKnowItAll.


Miss: Dad, I thought I had to just pee but I’m pooping.


Hubby: Sure. Thanks for the 411.


Miss: Dad, why do I fart when I’m pooping? Why is a fart called a fart?


Hubby: Ah, I dunno. Wishing daughter would have waited to do her business after he was done as not to have to try to answer poo questions.


Miss: Hmmm. I wonder why I sometimes continue farting even after I’m done pooping? I know I don’t have any more poop so why do the farts keep coming? And you don’t know why a fart is called a fart? Dad?


Hubby: No, ah, not really.


Miss: Oh okay. I wonder who decided to call it poop anyways?


Hubby: Are you done now?


There you have it. We just never know what that child will say next. Stay tuned because I’m sure she’s got some more humdingers up her sleeve.

July 21, 2006

I’m not sure why I do the things I do but sometimes I think I’m insane. Let me start at the beginning.


It’s heading into day 5 for me…..day 5 of a pounding migraine. It is, thankfully, starting to ease off a bit so I’m hoping when I wake up tomorrow, it’s completely gone. Fingers crossed.


My daughter woke in the night, last night, screaming bloody murder. The sound of her high pitched girlie screams damn near gave me a heart attack and let me just say, did not help my already booming head pain. I’m sure the neighbors thought we were killing someone.


She’s screaming and saying things like “I want my game pieces” (ummm okay) and “I hate everything on this planet”, “tell me where the game is and I’m bored”. This went on for an hour. Now obviously, she wasn’t fully awake because, 1. Those are weird things to just blurt out at 1am and B. She wouldn’t answer any of the questions I was asking, such as “hello? are you on crack”? And 4. Those are just weird things to say randomly at 1am. Did I mention it’s 1am? One AM as in that’s when people usually sleep. Sleep. She finally settled down and I slowly drifted back to dreamland. However, within minutes, she was screaming, once again giving me severe heart palpatations that felt like my organ was going to fly out of my chest. Okay what’s the deal kid?


She finally tells me that her head hurts (she gets migraines too) and that her ears hurt. I think because she’s been taking swim lessons for 3 weeks, she may have some water in her ears. I get up and give her some Tylenol and she informs me she wants to sleep on the couch but doesn’t want to sleep in the livingroom alone, so I have to get her settled before I can sneak off to my room and in my bed. Let’s fast forward to around 5am. I drift back to sleep only to wake again before 7am and realize I have to get up and can’t sleep in. I putter around in my fog, my head still pounding and feeling slightly nausous because I’ve had to pop pills to keep my head from completely exploding.


Miss wakes around 8am and says she’s feeling better but that her ears still hurt. She decided she wanted to go to swimming lessons but we would stop at the dr’s office afterwards to get her ears checked. Swimming goes fine and she’s again complaining about her ears. We get to the clinic and wait a bit but then Nurse Nancypants says that they can’t fit us in this morning afterall but that we can come back later. Great. We get back home and then Maddy turns into Miss GrumpsAlot and no matter what I say or do, it’s wrong. I’m breathing wrong. I’m not blinking the right way. I can’t pour her water fast enough. I’m not dancing on my head the proper way. Nothing was right.


I get her situated on the couch and am hoping she’ll fall asleep for a bit. Ya right. Anyway, I do some housework, pop more pills, do a bit of laundry, dunk head in toilet, drink some whiskey water and get ready to go out. I have to go to the bank and the grocery store and I have to take them.


I pray that things will go smoothly but I’m not sure why I waste my time doing that. I’m still trying to figure that one out. We arrive at the bank and I warn them that I will call the old lady that lives down the street that eats little children and they will go and visit her if I catch them doing anything that involves swinging from the light fixtures or harrassing the bank staff. Thankfully the bank wasn’t busy and they both sat quietly. Ryan sat in the customer waiting area reading the brochures and Miss sat at the little table and colored. I do my banking and come over and thank them for not embarrassing me or causing damage over $100. I look down to see Maddy’s coloring in the Precious Moments coloring book and well, what a precious sentence has been written in the book. On the page beside the page that my child was coloring, It read: EAT MY VAGINA. Ummm okay, now, who in their right mind writes that in a child’s book? At a bank? I casually rip it out of the book and take it to the teller and say that I’m pretty sure that this isn’t really appropriate for a Precious Moments coloring book. Or any coloring book for that matter. She readily agrees and thanks me. Of course Miss Noseypants wants to know why I ripped that page out and I told her because it was so beautiful that I thought the bank lady should have it. She says, “Oh I thought it was because it said EAT MY VAGINA. Mom why would someone write that? You don’t eat vaginas. That’s gross”. Ah huh. *Reminder to self…your 5 1/2 year old can read*


Next, on to the grocery store. My heart is starting to beat faster, I’m sweating and I have a feeling of dread. We usually can’t make it out of the store without some kind of scene or fiasco or some kind of vandalism. We shop around and after about 25 minutes, I’m happily relieved that nothing has happened. No broken candles, no spilled jar of pickles, no strewn birthday ribbons, nothing. We pay for our purchases and decide to go outside to their clearance area. They have racks of clothing on sale, garden items, shoes, books, just a mish mash of things. As I’m peeking through the clothing racks, I see Ryan off to my right looking at really big butterfly nets. There’s about 50 of them leaning against the wall. Well in the next, oh 20 seconds, I hear a crash and then I see Ryan looking at me, shrugging his shoulders as all 50 nets, fall everywhere because Mr B had decided he wanted to see one. And of course he chose one that is kinda in the middle and that sets off the domino effect. The two cashiers look over at the mess, then look at me. I say, “geez, where’s your mother”? and walk off into the clothing racks, hiding. I work my way to the front, pay for a couple of items and call for my offspring to follow me.


I get home and basically decide that I’m going to become a hermit and not go out. Like ever. Well maybe for bread or something. Happy Friday.

July 20, 2006

Lemme just tell ya, the Devil does not wear Prada. SHE wears a size 12 kid shoe from Walmart. I don’t know who pissed in my daughter’s Cornflakes today but they’d better hide because I’m not happy about that. She’s cute n’ all but she’s like a grizzly bear in a tiny tee and capris. Just FYI. Now I must go and soak my head in the toilet, you know, just to relieve the stress.

July 16, 2006

See these pictures? They’re related. How? Let me tell you.




We decided we would take the kids for a nice, leisurely Sunday drive. The day was warm and sunny and a lovely summer breeze was blowing as we drove away from Calgary for the day.


The kids were cheery, I was cheery, hubby was cheery. We drove for about 40 minutes out into the country and pulled off to a small town for a bite to eat. Hit the road again about half hour later and were happily on our way.


We turned down an old dirt road and the prairie scenery was wonderful. Bright yellow canola fields, wheat swaying in the wind, deer jumping in the fields and cows lazily grazing in the green grass.


We go down a quiet dirt path and come to some old, long ago used train tracks. Hubby stops the truck and we all get out to look at the pretty fields of flowers and head over to the tracks. My husband lays on the tracks so of course I take a shot. Then I decided I would lie down on my stomache to get a different perspective of the track.


I carefully lay down as not to jab my knees into the rocks on the track. I snap a couple of pictures and am happy with the look of them. I slowly get up and my hand brushes my capri pants and I feel something sticky. I bring my hand up and look at it. It’s covered in black, oozing goop. Freakin’ tar. I look down at the tracks and see a giant blob of mushy, baking in the sun, sticky, gooey tar. Then I look down at myself and see that my whole crotch area is now covered in the shit.


“Oh my frikkin’ God! It’s all over me isn’t it?”


“Ummm yes it is. Well mostly in your crotch area”


“Well that is just wonderful now isn’t it?”


“Maybe you should look before you lay down on train tracks.”


“Ya that’s really helpful.”


“I’m just sayin’.”


“What am I going to do?”


“I don’t know. I have some lacquer thinner in the truck.”


“Lacquer thinner? You want me to put that on my crotch? What if it eats away my flesh?”


“Well not directly on your crotch obviously. On your pants. And it’s not going to eat away your flesh. Stop being so paranoid.”


I decided to take off my pants right there. There was no way in hell I was letting him ‘wash’ my pants, especially near my privates, with lacquer thinner while they were on my body. Oh hey, did I happen to mention these were brand new capri pants? No? Well yes, they were.


So I’m standing by the truck in my panties and a tee. My kids are laughing their asses off and asking me if I’m going to spend the rest of the day in my underwear? Ummm I don’t think so. Hubby tries washing them with the lacquer thinner but it’s not helping as the tar has now hardened. I have no other clothes with me. We are miles and miles and miles from anywhere that may sell pants. So with no other option, I have to put the pants back on with clumps of hardened tar, which are now damp with the lacquer thinner, which by the way, has a very strong smell. My kids tell me that my crotch smells bad. Gee thanks.


We get back on a main road and about an hour later find a Walmart that is open for another 10 mintues. We dash in so I can buy new panties and a pair of capris. As I’m looking for the things I want, the old guy that was at the door when we came in, is making an announcement which made me laugh out loud.


“Good evening Walmart shoppers, it’s now 5:52 and our store will be closing in…………in……………….ah……………..in………………..twelve minutes.”


Wow, they close at 6:04. Whatever.


I get my clothes and quickly dash into the bathroom to change into my new purchases. Oh that was a slice of Heaven after sitting in damp, lacquer thinner soaked, tar encrusted pants. So how was your day? Click HERE to see more pictures.

It’s almost 11am and I’m still in my pj’s. I have fed my young’ens so that’s one thing accomplished. Oh and I turned my dishwasher on.


I really need to get off of my rear and get dressed, make my bed and then get lazy again busy with the rest of my day. I’m not sure what we have planned. Our older moochers children are working (oh come on now, I’m only teasing you if you’re reading this) so it’s just us against the troublemakers wee ones.


I am really fighting the urge to make myself a bowl of icecream for breakfast. Well I guess now, it would be considered brunch, but still. I can hear the Oreo Cookie icecream calling my name from the freezer that stands only mere feet from me. I could have that bizatch out of the icebox in 2.5 seconds or less, scooped out into a bowl in about 4.6 seconds and in my mouth in less than 1. I’m not sure I can fight this battle and win. I want that icecream. My logical self is telling me to eat some oatmeal or a piece of toast but who wants to be logical when there’s some sort of chocolate involved? Not I.


Now my daughter is begging me to give her some. Ummm hello? It’s not even 11am. Sheesh. What kind of person wants Oreo Icecream this early? She’s telling me that she’ll give me a big hug AND a big kiss if I let her have it. What kind of mom lets their young child eat that crap for brunch? Or let’s them bribe their mom with hugs and kisses? Gawd.


Okay this was short and sweet (kinda, with the mention of Oreo products) and now I really must rip my ass away from this chair. Good thing it’s not hairy. Happy Sunday everyone.