Sunday, October 31, 2010

And Then Life Happens.

I've been trying to write every day. I think I've been pretty good about it; at least every school day when Beege isn't here and Kee is sleeping. Apparently, if that hour and a half doesn't happen, I don't get anything done.

On Thursday, I had every intention of writing. Until Kee threw herself down the stairs. Okay, I'm pretty sure she slipped but the effect was the same. She was fine, but I kept her up through nap time to keep an eye on her, considering that this has been her second head injury in as many weeks. After a cup of tea (warm milk in a big girl mug) and a couple of cookies, she was right as rain.

On Friday, I brought Kee in to school to hang out with Beege's class for the halloween party. Wow. I don't think that kindergarten can ever be truly organised, what with the 4 year olds and all, but when you stuff them full of candy there is a special kind of chaos. We did a costume parade through the school, ate a lot of junk and got to let them loose with the rest of the school in the gym at the Halloween dance. I also forgot my camera. And her teacher was dressed at the Paper Bag Princess. The world's surliest, hairiest Paper Bag Princess. It was pretty awesome.

So today, I'm ignoring my children for the moment and steeling myself for Halloween. There will be pumpkin carving, there will be children in costumes and there will be banging on stranger's doors and demanding candy. There will be utter (happy) exhaustion. Hopefully, there will also be pictures.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Keep Your Husband...

Ditch the shoes.

I've been hanging onto my wedding shoes for six years. Alright... a lot of people kept their wedding shoes, dresses, jewellery, bouquets, etc. This is not one of the weirdest things I could have laying around. Except, I hated my wedding shoes. Hated them. They were beautiful in the box, but hurt like hell to wear.

My mum bought them for me - without my trying them on or seeing them - and had them dyed to match my dress. I would not advise this approach to anyone. Your daughter, while she may say thank you and say they're lovely, probably wanted to pick out her own shoes. But that's a whole other thing.

I only managed to wear them through the ceremony and had to switch into some pink slippers that happened to be in the car because it felt like my toes were being sliced off and my arch was collapsing.

Anyway. I've been hanging onto these things for the past six years. Moving them from place to place, opening up the box to see what it was every once in a while; and every time saying "oh. It's my wedding shoes," then closing the box and stuffing them in the back of the closet again. The funny thing is, between times, I don't even remember what they look like.

Well, I've finally decided to get rid of them. Now that there are 4 pairs of feet running around in our limited space, I've got to make room for shoes that might actually be worn. I agonised a little bit - they're my wedding shoes - but feel freed by the decision.

Now that those shoes are going, I can also get rid of my prom shoes (which never really fit), my old work shoes (which I just hung onto because they were expensive), the shoes from my sister's wedding (which were similarly painful, yet attractive)...

The best part is that getting rid of the wedding shoes paves the way for getting rid of all kinds of other 'sentimental' junk that I'm hanging on to.

Let the purging begin!

Monday, October 25, 2010

Sweet Dreams...

I fondly remember bedtime when Beege was a baby. Nursing her in the rocking chair in her room, singing to her and then putting a sleepy baby down to sleep. No problem. Even as she got older, She'd snuggle in with her bottle while I read her a story and then calmly go to sleep. This kid slept through the night (with occasional hiccups) at 5 weeks. Heaven.

From the very first night in the hospital, the only way Kee would sleep was if I curled up around her with her head on my shoulder and hummed; which was not really conducive to a good night of sleep for me. When we got her home, she still didn't seem to think that sleeping was necessary; at least at bedtime. She would nap just fine; if I hadn't had a 2 1/2 year old running around, I might have been able to follow the "sleep when the baby's sleeping" advice.

Every night without fail, at about 10pm, Kee would start screaming. Not just crying, but screaming. She would scream and scream until she started twitching and passed out.* She'd sleep for about 20 minutes and then wake up and do it again. Every night. All night. And while this was going on, I would hold her, bounce her, rock her, sing to her - while she screamed in my face - and wonder why this beautiful little baby hated me. She would eventually fall asleep for a longer period at about 4am. Then a couple of hours later, Beege would wake up and the day would begin.

Once she finally settled down at about 1 year old, we moved her in with Beege, and I re-arranged the bedroom furniture to counteract the PTSD*, there was peace at night. Mostly.

So. Keebee has never been a good sleeper. I've also mentioned that she likes to climb things? One day I walked in there and she was standing up on the side (yes, the side) of the crib, balancing with one hand against the wall. I wasn't quite ready to give up the baby containment unit but, as it wasn't doing a very good job containing the baby, it had to go.

So. Now we have two girls, both in big girl beds, side by side because there is no other possible furniture configuration. We get them ready for bed, read them a story and tuck them in with kisses and hugs. Once we've backed out of the room with our fingers crossed, we huddle around the baby monitor and hope for the best. Then we hear this:

"Keebee! Get off me!"
"MOooooooom! KEE BIT ME!"
WHAM! (This is usually one of them being pushed off a bed, or something being thrown...)

Whoever loses 'rock,paper, scissors' goes in and rights the situation. Five minutes pass. Repeat. For at least an hour. Although the dialogue changes, the situation remains the same; one or the other has gotten into the other ones bed, taken her toy, stolen her blanket, whatever.

I'm really hoping that this, like the screaming, is a phase that will be (in the grand scheme of things) short lived.

*I couldn't enter my bedroom without hyperventilating - I totally think it counts as Post traumatic stress.

*We did have her checked out, and nothing was actually wrong with her. My husband maintains that she had an immature nervous system, since she also freaked out if there were any loud noises or flashing lights. I (at the time) was pretty sure that she was possessed.

Friday, October 22, 2010


"Stay-at-Home Mum" is a condition with many risks. There are many afflictions associated with this condition. You may experience symptoms and side effects such as; laundry hand cramp, dish-washing depression, tinnitus, "mommy brain", mood instability, sweat pants addiction, verbal diarrhea (sometimes specifically regarding children), outbursts of weeping, general malaise. Possible risk of increased cardiovascular disease and insanity. These can be serious and you should consult your physician if symptoms remain for longer than a period of 18 (eighteen) years.

Treatment and Prevention:

Treatment of symptoms and side effects associated with "Stay-at-home Mum" are as follows: Prolonged stay in a spa or similarly relaxing environment. A nanny/housekeeper or other person employed to assist with the daily work of a stay-at-home mum (If there is another adult residing within the domicile, it is preferable that they assist). Wine or other alcoholic beverage consumption (note: this treatment carries its own risk of side effects). Five freaking minutes of alone time.

Prevention of this condition can be achieved in the following ways: Arrangements for alternate childcare. Don't have kids.

Additional Information
"Stay-at-Home Mum" is a state that is often chosen, rather than required. Often it is both at once. This condition is not infectious, thus persons wishing to avoid this condition need not shun persons currently living with it. While "Stay-at-Home Mum" does often make one more focused on [their children], this does not mean that other topics of conversation will not arise. Oddly enough, people afflicted with this condition often have many things to say on a variety of topics. Persons with "Stay-at-Home Mum" may complain from time to time; as with any other job, there are ups and downs and one should attempt to be sympathetic even if one does not fully comprehend what's so terrible about [current dilemma] - chances are that some people don't understand what the hell is wrong with you, either.

Disclaimer: The preceding is not the statement of a medical professional. The preceding is the statement of a current sufferer/enjoyer of the condition "Stay-at-Home Mum." Said person loves her kids more than anything in the world, but occasionally wishes that she could run away (all alone) and live in a tree house in a temperate climate.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Canada; Not So Much For Nudists.

Before anyone gets disappointed, there are, in fact, many nudist/naturist clubs in Canada. It's just that my daughter does not, in fact, belong to one.

Keebee is two. This kid loves playing dress-up. She will wear two dresses, some pants, a jacket and 4 hats. However, try and get her to put on some regular old keep- you-warm kind of clothes, and she pitches a fit. It takes about 45 minutes (not including socks, which would take another half hour or so, if I really felt like banging my head against that particular wall) to get her into pants and a shirt; at which point, you have to pick her up football style and run her outside before she realises what's happening. If you give her half a chance, she will strip back down to her diaper. Sometimes she'll shuck her diaper too.

Don't think that I haven't tried to get her to go out in the costume stuff, either. I really don't care what she's wearing, so long as she's warm enough and isn't going to trip on it. She, sadly, thinks of the dress-up clothes as indoor clothes and is "not gonna wear INSIDE clodes OUTSIDE!!"

This is a fairly recent development, actually... it's just unfortunate that it's happening in Canada, in October. Now is not the time to decide that you don't want to wear clothes. If she wants to be a nudist/naturist when she grows up, well, that's her call. For the moment, however, I am the mum, and she will wear a freaking coat.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

You Can't Win 'Em All.

You really can't. That's why I've decided that from this day forward I will only enter contests where the prize is something I actually want/need. Just in case there really is someone keeping track, I don't want to waste the times I do get to win on crap I don't need. Also, given the current state of my seemingly-shrinking home, I've decided that I will enter contests as if I know I will win the prize; ie. I will make sure that I have somewhere to put it or some way to use it.

So if I somehow do win a prize, I won't be left wondering what the hell to do with it. Like say, this thing:

Beege receives a magazine for children called "Chirp." Every once in a while, there's a contest where you have to draw a picture of you/your pet/your grandma riding/playing with/eating a train/ball/vegetable (you get the idea) and send it in. I imagine these are all random draws, because there is no way to judge pictures done by 4-6 year-olds. So every once in a while we enter one, and apparently, we won one; I'm still not sure what the contest was.

So now I've got this gigantic wooden "tree house play set" still in it's box, hiding up in the attic, -- I somehow managed to get it in without anyone noticing -- probably until we move. Our playroom is also our living/dining/craft/office room, so there really is nowhere to set it up. At least until our .. exuberant .. girls learn a little self control.

I really did consider giving it away - but look at it! It's cool! Just out of curiousity, I found it online, and not only is it eco-friendly, all natural, etc... but it's pretty darned expensive. I would not be able to replace it - and it just showed up at the door!

So here's the question: Do we give it to them as, say, a Christmas present; do we pretend at a later date that it only just showed up and she won it recently; or do we tell her that she won it a year ago (or however long until we find a new place) and then hope she doesn't freak out because we didn't let her have it right away?

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

You say it's your birthday

It's my birthday too--yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.
- The Beatles

I don't know about you, but I tend to view my birthday as my own, personal New Year's day. As such, there are protocols to be followed. First, on New Year's Eve, I need to have a nice relaxing bath and put clean sheets on the bed - even if I changed them that morning - I must begin my new year in clean sheets. Second, the house must be clean; sparkly, even. Thirdly, I must have eggs, bacon, good bread and stewed tomatoes in the house; got to start the year out with a good breakfast.

I am also the mother of two small kids with no storage space, no dish washer and no time, so these protocols haven't been followed in recent years. This year, I decided that it was more important that Beege have clean underwear to wear to school than I have clean hair to drop her off; bye bye, nice, relaxing bath. By the time I remembered about changing the sheets, I was already laying between them with my eyes closed, so there goes that. My house is not sparkly. And I think I had coffee and a stray corn pillow* (*cough* possiblyoffthefloor *cough*) for breakfast.

The day started out well enough, sweet little voices waking me up by yelling "Happy birthday, Mummy!" But soon enough, it became apparent that someone had replaced my children with ... I'm still not sure what. We ate breakfast. I sat down to play blocks with Beege while Keebee finished up at the table. I was hit in the head with a bowl that came flying across the room, accompanied by the war cry "I WANT MORE APPUH DUICE!"

It kind of went downhill from that point. There followed a lot of arguments, breaking up of wrestling matches, pleading, confiscating; until I sat on the floor, crying out of sheer frustration and protecting my head from my very irate two year old, who for some reason felt the need to pummel me while shouting "STOP BEING SAD!"

Based on this year's experience (so far - it's only 2:00pm) I have come up with a new list of rules specifically for Mummy's birthday. They are as follows:

1. Mummy gets the day off. The end. I don't care how you arrange it, Mummy gets the freaking day off.

*Keebee calls these things "corn pillows."

Monday, October 18, 2010

Should I Start Planning the Wedding?

I was watching "Sister Wives" last night with my husband - for some reason, I cannot get enough of that show - and we decided that maybe I need a sister wife.

I know, that might sound odd, but think about it; someone to help around the house? Someone to help raise the kids? Someone to take over when you really need a day to lay down? It could work!

These women appear to have a really great relationship. They all love each other's children as if they were their own, they each care about each other as if they were family... there are totally some pros to the situation.

Now, of course, if there were to be some other woman welcomed into this marriage, I would totally have to be the one to pick her. She would have to be friendly, good with kids, a hard worker and completely uninterested in having sex with my husband. It would be great to have someone live here who I could be friends with and share the duties of the household... but I couldn't see sharing my husband.

Even if I could stand the thought of my husband down the hall with some other woman - and I most certainly cannot - I would be too afraid of him turning into this douche-tard.

So, upon further discussion, we decided that we don't need a sister-wife. We need a live-in nanny.*

*Who would still not be allowed have sex with my husband.

Friday, October 15, 2010

So it's Gonna Be Like That, Is It?

Just found my (already heated once and now cold again) coffee in the microwave. Yay, Friday!

(My favourite mug by Ketto Designs)

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Ahhh... The Playdate.

I've mentioned a few times that I'm a bit of a hoarder. We have exactly no storage in this apartment, and with all the stuff... well, I'm sure you can imagine. This makes it a little difficult for me to invite anyone over. I love summer because we can have all kinds of people over, call it a barbecue and not even let them in the house.

It's just embarrassing how much our living room ends up looking like a storage unit. The place is clean, it's just not tidy. I tend to plan things way ahead of time so I'll have plenty of lead time for purging.

Play dates are worse. Until today, we'd invited exactly one kid over with her mum; and I was pretty sure that she wouldn't get all judgey with me. (Also, we started out in the backyard; I think we only ended up inside because someone had to go to the bathroom.) That was in June.

Today, we had our second play date (at our house) ever. I really like this family and was pretty sure that this mum wouldn't get all judgey with me either. But still. It's fall, it's chilly, it's rainy and I knew that we'd have to be inside. I'll never tell her, because she probably won't believe it, but I've been "cleaning" since Monday.

"Cleaning" entails gathering stuff that doesn't belong in the living room and trying to distribute it to its proper location. For a lot of this stuff, the proper location ended up being the garbage/recycling; broken elastics, a stack of papers that I'd been meaning to go through and never bothered, pens that don't work, etc. I went around with a box this morning and piled all the remaining crap into it to keep on my bed for the day.

Then I had to move the two laundry hampers that live in the living room because there's just nowhere else for them to go. Put away the piles of clean laundry that live in the living room because I tend to fold laundry when the girls are sleeping and then I can't put it away in their room and then it's easier to just leave the piles in here because they get dressed out here anyway.

Then I remembered I had a kitchen. After filling the dish rack, drying, putting away the dishes - three times - it was time to make lunch, and only an hour to go til play date.

My children have the strangest responses to vacuuming. Beege likes to yell things at me, knowing that I can't hear her, until I turn off the vacuum and ask what she wants. The response is usually a grin and "Nothing." Keebee likes to climb on the dining table, cover her ears and scream at the top of her lungs. Awesome. So, got that mess out of the way - including screaming and yelling - while they ate lunch; it's easier with Kee strapped in her booster seat, at least she's not on the table.

Then I did a quick sweep of the apartment to make sure that there was nothing overtly disgusting or dangerous laying around. Not that there usually is, but it's just when you think you've child-proofed that you find your kid running around with a pair of needle nosed pliers. Or maybe that's just at my house.

The play date was a success; cookies were eaten, pretend drinks were consumed, children screamed. And it looks so (relatively) tidy that we've made another with someone else for tomorrow. And because of all the pre-cleaning, I can even wash the pots and pans that I shoved in the oven at the last minute! (A well placed dish towel can hide a multitude of sins.)

disclaimer - in case my mother or other person who would be similarly appalled ever reads this: my house is not always disgusting. I promise.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I Wish I Could Bubblewrap Them.

In grade 7, I got to go to choir camp for a week. I had a wonderful time and was so proud to have been chosen. When I got back to school, no one would talk to me. A girl, who I had considered a friend, had decided that she didn't like me anymore and neither should anyone else. I was in an extended French class in an English speaking school, and we were already pretty insular. They didn't do anything physical; it was mostly the silent treatment and the occasional insult to my clothes, hair, freckles, posture... and yet, it was a horrible experience.

I didn't know who to talk to and I didn't know what to do. To this day, I still don't know what brought any of it on. I used to brave out the day and then come home and cry for an hour, wash my face and go downstairs to have dinner with my family. I don't think my parents even knew about it; mostly because I didn't want them to. It finally ended after a few months when one of the girls I used to hang out with sat beside me and said, "I'm sorry. I don't even remember why I was mad at you."

I can look back on my high school boyfriend now and realise that he did the things he did to me because he was insecure. He was abusive and he did not do anything he did out of love. He tried to make me feel like the only way I was worth anything is if I was beside him. I need my girls to know that they are worth a thousand of anyone who would make a person feel like they're worthless to make themselves feel big.

I can look back on the man who attacked me in university and know that he will never be whole. I can make sure that my daughters don't keep their mouths shut about anything that happens to them because they feel that they will be the one who is persecuted.

Every now and again, it hits me; I am a mom. I have two beautiful, brilliant, exciting girls... and I can't protect them from that kind of thing. Someday, they are going to feel like I felt. They are going to feel left out, and alone and like no one cares. Just the realisation breaks my heart.

I am going to do all I can to try and help them be themselves; to be so strongly aware of who they are that some idiot making fun of them, or telling them that they aren't worth anything won't have any effect at all. My fervent wish is that my girls grow up strong and brave. That they know their worth and they defend themselves, physically and otherwise, from anyone who would try to diminish them. Most of all, I want them to know that no matter what, I am always here for them.

My job is to help them get off the ground; to applaud them when they fly and be a safe place to land when they fall.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Holy Crap.

So, I was over having a look at Grasping for Objectivity this morning, and nearly fainted. She (Rachel) has done a post about all the odd catalogues she's receiving now that she's expecting again. I've never heard of these places. (That's not the part that I nearly fainted over.)

The Posh Tots catalogue is something else altogether. First of all, I'm really really surprised that they would send this to anyone who's not Tom Cruise. In this catalogue, you can find a children's bed ranging from $800 for a rather plain/ordinary bed to $47,000, (Yes. $47,000.) for this gorgeous fantasy carriage bed.

Even though a number of things on their web site are the same price as a car/down payment on a house, and I could never buy anything like that because there's no way I could justify having that kind of money to toss down the toilet and not using it for a worthier cause; I want that catalogue. I want to drool and dream over it and file away ideas in case my girls ever do want me to build them a pirate ship in the backyard. I'm looking forward to an entire theme park in the back yard. There are times when having an erstwhile costume/set designer for a Mum can benefit you, after all.

Also, if anyone who's planning on buying me a birthday present has an extra $23,400 laying around (plus S&H, I'm sure), this is what I'd like.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!

I think that I have an issue - well, I have many issues, but one in particular today. I love holidays. I love them a lot... and now that I am responsible for them, I always feel kind of let down. I've always had images in my head of the family that I would have when I was "grown up". I certainly have that family, but darn it, they just won't behave the way they're supposed to.

Thanksgiving is a perfect example:

We didn't have that perfect turkey. Even I am not crazy enough to think that my daughters are going to eat turkey. They turn their noses up at almost anything new, even when it smells as delicious as turkey. So I bought a great big turkey boob to share with Husband and make into lovely leftovers. It is hardly the same thing, let me tell you. By the time it was cooked and I'd ripped the netting off of the outside, it looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal. It tasted okay, but not quite what I was after.

We didn't sit around the table and say one thing that we were thankful for about each other. We almost sat there with the TV on, until I said (quite petulantly, I'll admit) "can't we even have the TV off?"

We didn't go on an after dinner walk in the fading sunlight. But my husband and the girls did make a run over to the playground while I sat around in my pajamas waiting for the turkey boob to be done.

Although I spent most of the time in the kitchen, and I could only coerce one kid to eat corn and the other to eat carrots, Thanksgiving was still a day to be remembered. My girls got some alone time with their daddy, which I always approve of. They made up a thanksgiving song about what they're thankful for; ie. mummy, daddy, toys, their shoes, etc. We finished up the day with ice cream, a bath, a story and bellybutton kissing.

Also? Beege said that when she's "big and moves far away," she'll "come home and make Thanksgiving pies and Christmas cookies" with me. So I'm good.

But I think next year we'll go to my mother's.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Everyone's Okay, But...

When you are calling someone to tell someone that you've been in an accident, your apartment is on fire or you've been robbed, please for the love of God, start with "Everyone's okay, but..."

The exact incorrect way to begin the conversation with your wife and the mother of the two children that you've got in your back seat is "We've had a bit of an accident here.." At that point, said wife/mother might begin sobbing so loudly that she is unable to hear you continue to say that everyone is alright.

My mother-in-law was going to come and visit us this weekend; she fell on Monday and broke her arm, resulting in some surgery. Obviously, she couldn't come see us, so I packed the kids up and sent them off with my husband to visit her.

So. She lives about an hour and a half away, and I was expecting a call when they got there to tell me they'd gotten there safely. I was certainly not expecting a call to tell me that they'd had to swerve, to avoid slamming into the back of some idiot who slammed on his breaks (for no apparent reason), and run into the dividing wall of the 401.

While the idiot who caused the accident took off, some nice people stopped, checked to see if everyone was all right and called 911. The van isn't drivable and they were closer to her than home, so a very nice police officer drove them somewhere so that they could wait for a friend of hers to come and get them.

To tell the truth, I don't really want to hear anymore about it until I've hugged them all; all I need to know is that everyone is okay.

Any Ideas?

With my sister's wedding over, I find myself at loose ends. I still have the feeling that I ought to be doing something, but just can't figure out what it is. So while I try to figure it out, here's something to entertain you:

Two of my favourite things; Sesame Street and that guy in a towel.

Thursday, October 7, 2010


So. Today I was going to go and volunteer again at Beege's school. Keebee was very excited and got ready without having to be chased down and forced into clothes. She had her little back pack on, with her snack and spare diaper inside. We went over to the school yard and the girls played together until it was time to line up, then they both put on their backpacks and got into line. "Hello Mr. G!" said Keebee, happily.

Unfortunately, Mr. G did not want us. He said that Keebee distracted the kids and that since I had to keep an eye on her, she distracted me. He figured that there wasn't much point in our coming in if I'd just be doing what I would be doing at home; ie. watching Kee. Huh.

Kee was okay when I told her that we wouldn't be going today, because I had warned her that they might not need any help and the if they didn't, we would have a picnic instead. Beege, however, teared up. And now I have to tell her that we won't be coming back at all.

I do understand that we shouldn't be there if we're distracting the kids, but I'm wondering when exactly we were doing that. From what I saw, except for sitting in a circle on the rug for attendance, Kee just did what the other kids were doing. For my part, I did what the teacher asked me to. If he felt that she was too distracting, he should have mentioned it at the time, instead of two weeks later.

I also understand that a part of me is actually upset because, as well as wanting to make my kids happy, I was thinking of volunteering in the classroom as a way to belong to the school community. I thought it would be a nice way to get to know some of the other parents and be involved.

For the most part, I like Beege's teacher, but for today he's in the "douche" column.

Also? Dude didn't notice when one of the kids in his class went outside with another class until the other teacher brought her back.

My Girls Are Into Recycling.

Flower girl basket; re-purposed.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Post Wedding Wrap Up.

The post that would have gone up Monday, before my kid knocked herself senseless and if my internet had been up.

The wedding is over! My sister is all married off and away on her honeymoon. Everything went well; none of my nightmares came true - for the most part.
While *I* did not fall and hit my head and have to be taken to the hospital, our grandfather did. He is, thank goodness, absolutely fine - apparently thick skulls run in the family. But he did fall, and did have to be taken to the hospital. He fell in the morning, but was front and center at the ceremony, smiling despite his uncomfy suit and the scrapes on his nose.

As with all weddings, there were a few hiccups:

1. Hair. My sister has beautiful, thick hair that will unfortunately not hold a curl no matter how much you will it too. We wanted curls. We tried hard for curls, but alas, it was not to be. Luckily, starting out with thick, beautiful hair means your hair is going to look good, no matter what. So take that, stupid curling iron.

2. Shoes. I've already mentioned a few difficulties finding shoes in the first place. We're just not good at anything other than running shoes, my sister and I. She ended up wearing her shoes only until we were at the reception and then running around barefoot. I stuck it out, and ended up with shin splints.

3. Possible wardrobe malfunctions. As someone who hasn't "dressed up" much in the past few years, I was a little worried about wardrobe malfunctions. I know perfectly well that Keebee likes to grab the front of my shirt as I put her down. When I got into my bridesmaid's dress and looked down to see porno boobs precariously situated in not nearly enough dress, I have to admit that I was worried. I'm pleased to say that not one time did they escape. They behaved themselves quite nicely and don't even look quite as uhm... porno-y.. in the pictures as I thought they would.
I also wore thigh-high nylons because I don't like the way full nylons press into my stomach. Big mistake. This may not be a problem for some people, but those of us with, let's say... "generous" thighs, please take note: apparently, thigh-highs plus running around like a chicken with your head cut off equals morning after pain shorts.

4. The officiant. He was the same man who did the ceremony for my wedding. At my wedding though, he wasn't late and he didn't seem tipsy. In the end, he was pretty funny and I can't think of a better way to enter your marriage than laughing.

5. My speech. Okay, okay, I didn't write anything down. I'd been working on it in my head for months though! That counts, right? I forgot my speech. I left out entire witty chunks about how wonderful my sister is and how people mistake her for the older sister, not only because I'm immature, but also because she's always looked after me. I forgot to mention how it's no wonder that someone as loving and loyal as she is found her career in looking after children. I forgot to talk about how strong she is and how proud I am of her. I *did* remember to welcome my new brother-in-law into the family. I also remembered the rest of it later and made her sit through it. And now I'm writing it here, and she sometimes reads this (*waves* Hi, sister!) so that's okay.

Despite some things going wrong, there were certainly some things that went right. My girls were wonderful; thank heavens for Grandmas and "Where's Waldo?" for the iphone. The weather held up for photos, the food was delicious and we all had a good time. Besides, the hiccups are what makes a wedding memorable. Who doesn't love a story about a ring bearer curling up on the bride's train during the ceremony? I stuck my tongue out at my husband on my way down the aisle and he tried to put my ring on the wrong finger; these are the things you remember!

Have you ever been to a wedding where you were sitting there wondering how long it would last? This was not one of those weddings. I didn't get to see my sister's face, but I did get to see his, and I am fully satisfied that he loves my sister. You could practically see the happiness radiating off of him. I got to stand by my sister as she married the man she loves and see how much he loves her too. Nothing could have made me happier.

Although, I could've done without the pain shorts.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Apparently, There is Such a Thing as Too Much Love.

Let me introduce you to Baby B, who I fondly call Keebee. She is a daredevil. If there is anything around to climb, not only will she climb it, but then she will throw herself off of it. She is super tough. I can't count the number of times she's fallen off things, tripped over things, banged herself up on things; but not until yesterday has she really been hurt. And all it took was a hug.

Yesterday when we went to pick up Big B (Beege) from school, Keebee saw her big sister, yelled "BEEGE!" and ran towards her. At the exact same moment, Beege saw her little sister, yelled "KEEBEE!" and ran towards her.

Now I'm not exactly clear on the physics here, but apparently, two sturdy little bodies of slightly different masses running towards each other as fast as they can is not such a good idea. They smacked into each other and toppled over, with Keebee on the bottom. Her head hit the concrete and bounced. She screamed.

She settled down after a few minutes and we came home. She seemed fine for a little bit, and we were sitting on the couch watching a show together when she started vomiting. We're talking a lot of vomit. Then she started looking unfocused and turning her head from the show, saying "it's too loud!"

I called my husband and he came right home to spirit her away to the emergency room. That was 4:45. I really, really hate waiting for information at times like this. I didn't hear from them again until 9:00, when I finally caved in and called them. She had vomited a lot more, seen a doctor, and was now waiting around to see another doctor.

I finally got a phone call around midnight letting me know that they were coming home. Keebee had stopped vomiting, perked up, and was asking for McDonald's. She had also, when asked if she'd like to sleep over at the hospital, emphatically said "NO!" We got her tucked in her own bed with her own blankie at about 1:00am.

So, it was just what I thought - a concussion - and she is fine now, we're just supposed to keep an eye on her for speaking in tongues and head spinning. Holy crap is it scary though! Sitting at home waiting for news from the hospital is one of the most horrible experiences I've ever had; They're there and I'm here and there's nothing I can do, when I'm supposed to be the one who can DO something.

Beege was much more calm about the whole thing; maybe because of all the time she herself has spent hanging around hospitals. She did say, that from now on, she will let Keebee run to her because she's bigger and won't get knocked over. She's very wise.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Now Just Stand There. Please?

My girls are lucky enough to get to take part in my little sister's wedding tomorrow, and they are absolutely thrilled! They've loved "Map" (as they call him) forever and were pretty excited when I explained that now he's marrying my sister, it means we get to keep him.

We've got their dresses, I've made their head wreaths, I've survived the hell that is shoe shopping; now we just need them to get down the aisle.

We had the rehearsal tonight. They did not walk serenely down the aisle and stop at the end as we had hoped. Baby B stomped down the aisle at top speed while Big B kept looking back at us to see what she should be doing. After a few tries, we decided that we would hold their hands and walk down together. Problem solved. Awesome. Except that once we've got them down there, they jump/run/dance.

They're having quite a short ceremony, only about 15 minutes or so, but it occurred to us that there is no way on earth that these girls will stand still quietly while the grownups are babbling. So the plan is this: we will walk them down the aisle and as we pass Grandma, we will hand them off. The first time we tried this, baby B stood up on the seat, turned around and starting jumping up and down.

New plan: we will walk them down the aisle and as we pass Grandma, we will hand them off. Grandma will reach into her purse and pull out two fully charged iphones loaded up with "Where's Waldo". Problem solved.