Thursday, March 31, 2011

It's a Family Thing.

This morning, the girls and I sat down together and took turns making up poems, since National Poetry Month is starting tomorrow. It was actually pretty fun; we took turns picking a couple of words and then each of us got to make up a poem, making sure we used those two words.

Lunch went well, everyone got dressed (fairly) quickly and out the door with no further ado.

When we got to the playground, I turned to say hello to one of the other parents and then heard someone bellow, "EMERGENCY!" Followed by loud sobbing.

I looked around, and there was poor Beege, legs spread, arms held out from her body, looking miserable and dripping wet. I'm still not quite sure what happened.

Assessing the situation, I realised that taking the girls home and changing her clothes would probably take an hour. So, I left the girls with another mom and ran home to get her some new pants. Actually ran. (Which if you know me, is a big deal, I freaking HATE running.)

When I got back, sweating like a pig and huffing and puffing like.. well, an out of shape 30-something year old, Beege's teacher pulled me aside and told me that the meeting we'd scheduled for tomorrow will have to be re-scheduled for next week, because he can't make it.

"The meeting that you wanted to have ASAP and didn't want me to bring Kee to? Okay, so I've arranged to have someone come and watch my daughter in the middle of the day for this 10 minute meeting, and you're canceling it on me. The day before. So, I have to call my mum, who is coming from 40 minutes away and let her know that she didn't have to re-schedule her whole day after all, but thanks anyway?

Right. And Don't worry about bringing Kee, that'll be fine.

So I didn't need to get someone to watch her in the first place?

Right. Sorry, can't be helped. It's a family thing."*

I'm pretty sure he's just screwing with me at this point.

*The conversation may not have gone exactly as depicted. I may have just said "sure." Also, I might have imagined it, but it's possible that his eyes were glowing red and he was giggling as I left.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Grey Skies Are Gonna Clear Up...

This morning, I was pleasantly surprised to be woken up by two little girls snuggling into either side of me with their blankies. I wrapped my arms around them and snuggled them back and we all fell back to sleep together.

Then the alarm went off. Kee bolted upright, yelling "cover it up! Cover it up!"
Beege started whining about Kee yelling. Okay, peaceful morning over. Time to get up.

Have you ever had a day where you just feel kind of sad? For no reason? I have them now and again, and lucky me, today is one of those. Don't look at me sideways, because I'll probably sob like a baby who just dropped her bottle.

My living room has been destroyed. They cleared every single shelf. The books, the toys... their craft table and chairs tipped over and covered in stuff... I don't know why, I don't know how, I just know that it only took them five minutes. I know that because that's about how long it takes me to move laundry from the washer to the dryer.

I made lunch. They covered themselves in it. Finally with some cajoling/screaming on my part, everyone is clean, clothed, ready and out the door.

I was in such a hurry getting them ready to go that I forgot to wear a bra. Or comb my hair. Or brush my teeth. Which, really? Who cares? I'm wearing a bulky winter coat and a hat and I don't really need to talk to anyone. Except for the the fact that today is the day there's an assembly with live animals at Beege's school that I had said I'd take Kee to.

However, on a day like today, a day when I feel like I'm plugging a dam with my finger, there's just no way. Besides all that, does a kid who's been acting like an animal all morning really deserve a special treat? Maybe not.

So, after arranging a time to come in for a conference with Beege's teacher about her recent behaviour (without crying!), I walk home feeling like a failure. The dam is pretty close to breaking.

But I've decided that I don't want to sit around crying this afternoon, so I'm going to do this instead:

5 Things That Make Me Happy

1. Waking up to snuggly daughters

2. Sitting in the sunshine watching them build a snowman out of the last vestiges of slush on the back porch. Together! Without fighting!

3. Looking forward to hanging out with my little sister all day on Saturday.

4. Watching Beege read a story to Kee while they snuggle on the couch.

5. Knowing that this (whatever this is) will pass.

Maybe this evening, once the girls are in bed and I can be off duty, I'll make some hot chocolate, snuggle under a blanket and throw on a movie that makes me bawl.

For now, I'm going to go make a loaf of bread, because watching the little explosions the yeast makes is another thing that makes me happy.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Christine's My Favourite.

I have no idea why, but I can't help watching "Sister Wives". There's just something fascinating about it. And, okay fine, it's not just the Browns; I'm also weirdly entranced with the Duggars. I mean, seriously? 19 kids? And COUNTING?? I can barely manage the two I have, some days.

I will also admit that I used to watch Jon and Kate Plus Eight. I thought it was great how they could handle eight kids and not kill each other. Of course, then their relationship blew up in a giant mess of Ed Hardy and body guards...

Then there's the Duggars. It is pretty interesting to see the episodes where they deal with how they make ends meet with all those kids. I think that part of me is waiting to see Michelle crack. She's always so calm and quiet, despite having 19 kids to look after, that I can't help thinking there's a little ticking time bomb in there. There's also the fact that Michelle has given birth to all of these children. It seems like a miracle that her body still functions. Then there's her hair. Her fascinating, horrifying hair.

But I was never quite as obsessed with either of those shows as I am with "Sister Wives". Maybe because having a bunch of kids doesn't seem quite as far removed from my life as having a bunch of wives?

The fact that these women can live together and care for the children isn't surprising. In fact, I even think it might be nice to live in a commune with a bunch of other women and their children. But then there's that whole "husband" thing. I don't think I'd want one of them around; it seems like that would just screw up the dynamic.

I don't think that I could transcend feelings of jealousy or "possessiveness" the way the Brown women seem to.

Take for instance the circumstance of being at the hospital, in labour, about to pop a baby out my nethers, while my husband is at home kissing his fiancee good-bye. I'd have a hard time not being angry about that.

Or the fact that the newest wife gets a huge, big deal wedding reception and then an 11 day honeymoon when the other wives got piddly 3 day road trips? I don't know how okay I'd be with that either.

When I got married, I got married to share my life with someone; specifically my husband. I'm not sure how I'd feel about giving someone all of myself and only getting a quarter of him in return.

So, maybe I watch it to try and understand that dynamic? Or maybe, the real reason I like it so much is that I can sit down with a bowl of popcorn after a day of breaking up fights, wrestling with snowsuits, cleaning food spatters, re-folding mysteriously unfolded laundry, and screaming children and watch it while thinking, "well, geez, at least I don't have to deal with that shit!"

Monday, March 28, 2011

It's (Not) The End of The World.

I am sad to say that Kee appears to have given up napping.

Which is not to say that she won't nap; more that she will nap, but then stay up until ten. Using her exhausted sister as a punching bag.

And so.

Actually, I'm looking forward to spending some time one on one with her. It's going to be great - especially as the weather gets warmer and we can play outside. We've already decided that we'll go to "Toddler Time" at our library once a week, and it's going to be lovely.

However. I will not let this deter me from the writing. Yes, it was nice to have a specific block of time set aside when I could write with no one to interrupt or need me. And yes, it was definitely nice to have a time that I could look forward to every week day when I knew I would not have to share any cake that I was lucky enough to be eating.

I'm just going to have to suck it up and get used to writing with someone in the room.

So for the next little while, if the writing is a little choppy -- maybe containing some completely random sentiments and abruptly ending thoughts -- please forgive me.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

All You Need Is Love.

Today, when I went to pick up Beege from school, I was met by a beaming, cheerful little girl. Which was such a welcome change, considering that for the past two days, I've been met by a sullen, angry little girl and a teacher waiting to list all the horrible crimes she'd perpetrated in the two and a half hours she'd been at school.

I was thrilled when he barely looked at me this afternoon.

As we walked home, swinging our hands, I asked about her day. Mostly I wanted to see if I could figure out what made today so much better than the past few days. And I think I've got my answer.
Did you have a good day, honey?
"Yes, mommy, I did!"
I'm so glad to hear that! What made it so good?
"I think... that I have fallen in love!"
Oh? With who?
"A boy in my class!"
And why do you think you've fallen in love?
"Well, he's nice. And he's very funny. And he does magic tricks, just like me! And Mummy?"
"He's a ninja."

I have definitely heard worse reasons.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Passel O' Princesses.

Last year, about this time, my family celebrated a made up holiday called "Bug Day". Mostly because we were bored.

We spent the day reading stories starring bugs, eating "worm brownies", writing a song in celebration of bug day and watching "A Bug's Life". There were worksheets for Beege to do and headbands with pipe cleaner antennae for everyone to wear; really a very good makeshift holiday.

This year, I decided to go with "Princess Day". Bugs are nice and all, but how many times do I really want to watch "A Bug's Life"? And since, unlike Bug Day, I knew about it more than one day in advance, I had time for things like costumes!

First, we had a treasure hunt.

That lead them to the (papier mache) moon.

Which contained their royal jewels.

Then we all got into costume (my husband too!) and had a princess tea party.

Then we had a Disney Princess sing-a-long (with a DVD that my husband bought me for my birthday before Beege was even conceived, because I happen to be a dork). Finally, we watched "Mulan", and then because Belle is "the best princess", we watched "Beauty and the Beast".

I think everyone had fun, but I probably had the most fun... I was the only one who knew all the words for the sing-a-long, after all.

Next year? I'm thinking... Pirates.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Zoo Won't Take Them.

Lord knows I've had moments when I haven't liked my kids very much. I've had moments when I wanted to make them sleep outside rather than go in their room one more time to break up the inevitable evening argument. I've perhaps had moments when I actually told them I was thinking of boxing them up and sending them to the zoo.

I'm pretty sure that as they get older, they'll understand how I could have felt like that. Heck, we talk about our feelings a lot around here, and we try and help them identify what exactly it is that they're feeling when they have a meltdown; not only so that they understand their own feelings, but so that they can understand other people's as well. Beege has said to me, "mummy, you look a little frustrated. Maybe you should have a quiet minute."

I know that I can't be the only person who's felt like maybe they don't like their kid so much. It's really hard to like someone who's screaming in your face, hitting you and/or stripping off the snowsuit it just took you ten minutes to wrestle them into when you've only got five minutes to get everyone out the door.

This parenting thing is hard, no matter what anyone says. It just is. But why shouldn't it be? It's a relationship, and relationships take work. We work at them because we love the people involved, be they our parents, our siblings, our children or our spouses.

It's one thing to feel like sometimes we don't like these people and write about it in a blog post. It's another thing altogether to write about how you think that maybe you love one of your kids more than the other. On the internet. Where your kids might see it someday.

That's what this woman did, and holy crap was there some backlash. A lot of people were angry, horrified for her kids and thought that she ought to seek psychiatric help. She, in turn, was upset by the response and wrote this rebuttal.

I have to ask what she expected when she typed out the words ‘it wouldn’t be so bad’ if she lost daughter, so long as she didn’t lose her son*. On the internet.

The internet is a very public place. You have the right to write whatever you like; but so do other people. You can't vent something personal and hurtful like that and expect people who don't know anything about you, except what you've written, to respond with the sympathy of a long time friend.

I, for one, will stick to discussing deeply personal issues with my husband, rather than posting it on the internet and hoping for the best. When I say something to him, he knows me, he loves me and he is going to respond like someone who knows and loves me.

The rest of you can hear about how Kee marched up to me, put her hands on her hips and yelled, "Go in the kitchen and get me crackers! NOW! ONE!... TWO!...THREE!" Then broke down giggling.

*This line appeared in the original article which has since been taken down, edited and put back up.

Monday, March 21, 2011

WELL, Thank God THAT'S Over.

No, really, it wasn't that bad. I refer to, of course, March Break. Which I still don't think is necessary, but what do I know?

It was much less awful than I feared it would be. Most of that fear stemmed from the fact that on Tuesday I had to take Kee to her first ever dentist appointment. Down by where my parents used to live, because I'm too lazy/anxious to look for a new dentist.

It's only an hour and a bit away on the TTC.

Yeah. So, we got up and out the door by 11:00 which, believe me, is early for us. (We're going to be in for so much fun in September, when Beege starts full day school.)

We made it to the subway, which for some reason was completely packed. I couldn't believe it. I was expecting parents/caregivers and kids on break. Nope. It was full of people in suits, on cell phones, with briefcases. Do people really not go to work until 11:00?

A lovely young girl (who I will remember fondly til the end of time) gave up her seat to us and I managed to tuck Kee in beside us in her stroller. Beege promptly began chatting up the woman next to me, who got about ten times more cheery once she was talking to Beege. Kee started singing nonsense words to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" and everyone around her got that "awwww, cute!" look on their faces. It went much better than expected.

Until it was time to get off. It's really great to have a seat on the TTC and all, but the problem comes when it's time to get off.

Even though it's really only about eight feet to the door, it can seem a lot farther when you've got to get a buggy and another kid across the space without losing or hurting anyone. And there were about a million people between us and the door. Packed in like sardines, we were.

I had a brief moment of panic when Beege ducked underneath/between a bunch of people and I lost sight of her, just as the doors opened. Luckily, another lovely young girl (who I will also remember fondly til the end of time) grabbed the hood of her coat and said, "wait for mommy, sweetie." I usually wouldn't want some stranger grabbing my kid, but in this case? Thank you, thank you, thank you.

So. Then we navigated through the Eaton Center to get to the streetcar. Beege got up the stairs on her own okay - yes, I know, she's five, of course she was okay - but I got the handle of Kee's stroller caught in the pocket of my jacket as I lifted her in and almost dropped her. Thank you very much, third kind stranger of the day.

After that, it was pretty much smooth sailing. I dropped Beege off at my sister's in the construction zone that is my parents old house - they're getting it ready to sell - and took Kee off to the dentist.

She loved it. She was a perfect angel and did everything asked of her with no complaint. That may have had something to do with the fact that she got to watch TV the whole time we were there; also, her sister had told her about the giant tooth full of treasure that would await a well behaved patient.

We went back to my sister's and hung out for the rest of the day, then my husband drove down and picked us up. At 7:00.

I have decided that I need to get my driver's licence.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Perhaps it's Time for Some Lessons in Tact?

Today we woke up to a rainy, slushy, grey kind of day. The girls were sad because it looked like the disco ball was just not going to wake up today. Yes really. We wait for the moment the sun hits it and then yell, "Good morning, Disco Ball!"

It's my fault, I guess, since I'm the one who did it first. I also talk to my plants, but you love me anyway.

Anyway. Crappy day out. Having breakfast didn't help at all. Neither did playacting Beauty and the Beast; in which Kee played Belle and Beege played Chip the teacup. I had the honor of playing Papa, who gets to lie around in a cell and then lie around in bed, and then lie around on the ground. Everybody was feeling sort of draggy.

So I threw on some Aqua and we started dancing. Soon, we were dancing around the living room with reckless abandon, bumping into things and knocking each other down. We were giggling our heads off. It was awesome.

Beege and I were dancing together when she yelled, "I love you Mummy!" and threw her arms around me. Then she looked up at me, giggling, and said "your bum is so big!"

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Blanket Statement.

When Beege was a baby, her comfort item was a sucky*. When it was time for her to give up her suckies, we thought it would be tough, considering that she kept one in each corner of her crib so that she would never need to be without one in the middle of the night.

It was actually super easy. We told her all about the "Sucky Fairy". The Sucky Fairy comes and takes suckies from big girls and boys who don't need them anymore so that they can be given to brand new babies, who do. We drew a bunch of pictures of suckys, glued them to a box to put her suckys in (I swear to god, there were about 20 stashed around the house.) and left them for the fairy to take.
We asked her what might help her be more comfortable at night without her sucky, and she said "a cuddly toy", so I took her to the One of a Kind Show and let her pick out her new big girl cuddly. She named her Jenny.

She "wrote" (ie. dictated, and insisted that it be written exactly as said) the fairy a nice note, which I still have, that said:
"Dear Sucky Fairy,
I love you to remind the babies of the view and I'd like you to give all the babies these suckys. It is good to give babies suckys. I like to cuddle Jenny when I don't have the suckys. I am a big girl now, so I don't need a sucky."
I'm still not quite sure what she meant by "remind the babies of the view", but I imagined it to be quite profound.

We left it out overnight and woke up the next morning to a note from the fairy, thanking her for all the suckies, telling her that her mummy and daddy must be very proud to have such a generous, grown up girl and a pretty necklace. Because big girls have jewellery. Easy Peasy.

Kee never had a sucky. We tried it a couple of times, but I figure if you have to hold it in there, then you probably shouldn't bother. Kee's comfort item of choice is a blue blankie. She loves her blankie so much that she actually, literally, cannot sleep without it. She also reaches for it whenever she's scared, hurt, shy, tired, angry, or sad. She also pretends it's a horse.

One time, when she was about 8 months old, the girls stayed over at my parents' house and while we were there picking them up the cat got into their room and sprayed her blankie. Freaking disgusting. We didn't notice it until we got home, when we went to put her to bed. No way was I going to put her down with a blanket covered in cat spray.

I put it in the laundry immediately, and we tried putting her down without it. A full hour of screaming later, she and I sat in the laundry room on the floor watching it spin in the dryer until it came out. Presented with warm, spray-free blankie, she fell asleep instantaneously. Really. Like she'd been hit with a brick.

After that event, I realised we needed a back up. We'd had about a thousand suckies, it only made sense to have an emergency extra blanket or two, right? However, since I'd originally purchased the blanket for Beege over two years ago, I'd forgotten where I'd gotten it. A search was mounted, my whole family was involved and eventually, another blanket was found. I was so happy.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Kee was sitting on the couch, snuggling her blankie while I was folding laundry next to her. (You see where this is going, right?) I unthinkingly pulled out... another blankie. "BLANKIE!"

Since that day, she needs two blankies to get to sleep. At this point, we have five of them.

Luckily, when she knocked over the laundry basket this morning and two "blankies" fell out, I managed to body check her before she could focus, then throw them in my bedroom and slam the door.

Because, really? I just don't have the closet space.

*Soother, Pacifier, Dummy, what have you; we called it a sucky.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

What Do You Do When The Love Is Gone?

I don't know about you, but if there is one thing that can make me sad, it's the end of a really good book.

A really good book can be like a relationship: It starts out interesting and exciting. You get into it. You can't wait to see it. You want to know everything about it. But, like a lot of relationships, it ends. Even though you don't want it to.

Then you're left sad, lonely and wanting more. There is a feeling of being lost... until you find your next good book.

There are certainly the other kind of book relationships as well; the kind that begin to suck the life right out of you, but that you stick with because you're too involved to not find out where it goes. Those books, you're glad to see the end of.

But a really good book. Well. The thing that makes them even better than good relationships is that you can go back to them again and again; even once they've ended.

Then there is another kind of relationship. One that goes on and on. It stays interesting because you get a chance to miss it. You look forward to each encounter with bittersweet longing. You know that your time is limited and when you're done for the day, you will ultimately remain unsatisfied. A long distance relationship?

This relationship is an ongoing series. You finish the one you're reading and then you wait for years for the next installment.

There's a new relationship that I've discovered... the webcomic. A little easier to deal with, because you get a fix a few times a week. Less satisfying - more frustrating - because you have to get by with one. page. at a time.

This post has nothing to do with the fact that I spent the past two days reading Girl Genius online and am now completely caught up to present. Really.


Monday, March 7, 2011

They're Baaaaa-aaaaack!

So. My husband took my kids to his mum's for the weekend. They had a lot of fun. The kids I mean. My husband had to deal with freak-outs, enormous up-the-back-poop at the mall, a soaked and frozen car seat, bedtime shenanigans... etc.

And poor me, I was left home, all alone. *snicker* Remember how I said I was going to get a whole lot done? Well, uhm... I didn't.

I was going to start off the weekend with some light cleaning/organising on Friday night. I ended up sitting in front of the computer for a few hours reading an amazing web comic that I stumbled across called "Girl Genius"; which, if you enjoy fantasy and/or steampunk, you should really go ahead and read. So there's Friday gone, and nary a cupboard cleaned out.

I figured Saturday would get off to a better start. I planned to get up, walk over to the library to return some books and pick up some fresh fruit and vegetables that would allow me to make curry and a stir fry -- which my kids wouldn't eat if I paid them in Maplelea Girls -- and actually sit down and enjoy a good meal.

When I woke up on Saturday morning (for the second time, since I forgot to turn the 6:30 alarm off the night before), it was pouring out, and so cloudy that I actually thought it wasn't quite morning. I got back into bed and played solitaire on my iPhone for an hour. Which didn't improve the weather, or my mood. I ended up spending my day alternating between cleaning out the pantry and reading more of Girl Genius.

In the afternoon, I went shopping with my sister and her husband and picked up some ankle weights and a muffin tin; which really has nothing to do with anything. Then I went to dinner at my parent's house and came home feeling sick - probably due to garlic bread over consumption. I was going to clean at this point, I swear I was, but I got distracted by watching "The Holiday", even though I've seen it plenty of times, because I love seeing Jack Black as a 'romantic lead'. So that pretty much killed Saturday.

I had big plans for Sunday. Sunday I was going to get up a little earlier and set up my sewing machine, rain or shine! Princess dresses* would be sewn!

I woke up pretty happy, because it seemed really sunny out** and I couldn't wait to get going. When I looked out the window, however, it had snowed. Quite a lot, actually. So I got up, had breakfast and went out to shovel the driveway. Which, I believe I've mentioned, is quite a long driveway.

So. An hour and a half later, I came back in, resigned to the fact that there would be no sewing, or painting, or drawing, or any other fun for mummy thing and got down to the business of laundry, vacuuming and tidying.

I had everything done, tidy and clean just in time for them to get home. And five minutes after they did, I was struck by how useless the whole thing had been since the living room already looked like a bomb had hit. I also got over that warm glow of having my kids back pretty quickly, since it only took them about fifteen minutes to find something to fight over. Something that there were two of, might I add.

So although I love them all, and I'm glad to have them back, I think I'll try and get them to go for a week next time.

*The dresses are for "Princess Day", coming up later this month... more on that later.

**It is really quite possible that I'm solar powered.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Sneaky Slippers.

This weekend, my kids are going to visit my mother-in-law. With my husband, of course. I get to stay home!! I'm a little excited to have some time to myself. Just a little.

I'll mostly be cleaning and organising; which I know sounds really boring, but I am so looking forward to it, you would not believe. You mean I can actually empty the entire cupboard and not worry about someone stabbing/poisoning/killing themselves on/with sharp/cleaning products/miscellaneous other crap? Awesome. I can pick things up and put them where they go and not find that they've mysteriously jumped out of place again? I can vacuum without anyone trying to skip with the cord?

But I digress.

It gets a little cold at Gran's house, so I've been desperately looking for Kee's slippers. The kid refuses to wear socks, but loves her slippers; I'll take what I can get. Of course, they've completely vanished off the face of the earth. I've looked everywhere and can't even find one of them.

Since I'm me, I figured... okay, I've got a couple of days, I'll make her some new ones.
Which turned out pretty nicely, I think.

But, of course, it turns out that these
were, for some as yet unexplained reason, in here.
Of course, no one told me that until I put the last stitch in the new ones.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Everybody Poops.

This morning, when I woke up, I felt like garbage. Gross, fast food dumpster sitting in the sun, garbage. My whole body ached and it felt like there was somebody stabbing me in the eye. And my stomach... holy hell, my stomach. Luckily, my husband was gone and the girls weren't up yet so I could just sit in the bathroom and feel sorry for myself.

Before I got to business though, for some reason I'm still not quite sure of, I weighed myself.

Possibly, it's because I've been losing weight pretty steadily for the past little while. I have actually been watching what I eat but getting absolutely no excercise, so it's pretty slow. So, while I'm not obsessive about it, every few days, I do weigh myself.

This is only important because of what followed.

I swear to god, I lost half my body mass on the toilet. I know, gross, but I'm sure you've been there.

And then, again for reasons I'm still not quite sure of, I weighed myself again. Yeah, okay, maybe this time it was because I really felt like "ohmygod, most of my innards are in the toilet" and since I'd just weighed myself, why not see if most of my innards actually were in the toilet? I know, I know, gross.

I had gained half a pound. Wait, what? At this point in the post I was going to say:

"So... I crap antimatter?"

Which I thought was pretty funny. Then I passed it by my husband. Then the following ICQ conversation happened*:

Me: So. Antimatter. If you take mass away from something and it weighs more than it did to begin with, what would you call that?

Him: Well, I would call that an increase in gravity since weight is a variable, and mass is constant. so if something loses mass and weighs more, it has been subjected to an increase in gravity.

Me: Hunh. Well, I doubt I experienced an increase in gravity. I just want to know if "so... I crap antimatter?" makes sense.

Him: antimatter is exactly the same as regular matter, so it really has no special properties aside from annihilating regular matter...
Let's see. you could be experiencing an increase in density — I believe dark matter could weigh a lot with very little mass. less mass but more gravity is an increase in density… like a tablespoon of collapsed star is the weight of our planet

Me: Okay. Well, there goes that punchline.

Him: or you could say you warp spacetime :D

Me: My ass warps spacetime.

Him: and stars themselves lose mass and gain gravity/density! eg. like the tablespoon of collapsed star)

Me: So I'm a star?

Him: how about a collapsar (though that may be an older term)

Me: great. So I'm an "exceptionally large" star?

Him: heh there are no good descriptors for astronomical phenomenon of that magnitude that can be applied to a person in good conscience :D
'dense' 'massive' 'explosive' etc

So. While the mystery behind gaining some weight when logically you would think that you'd lose some remains unsolved, I hope that you, like I, have learned a great deal about the properties of collapsing stars today. Because heaven knows, the next time you're trying to describe a strange occurrence due to a bodily function, you may want to have some of this stuff tucked away.

And honestly, 'dense', 'massive' and 'explosive' are all terms that have, at times, applied to my ass.

*Parts of this conversation, not affecting the outcome, have been edited by the producer. The fact that I hate Zoboomafoo isn't really relevant.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Advice Worth Heeding.

When I was pregnant with Beege, we decided that we needed to take a prenatal class. Just reading What To Expect When You're Expecting wasn't going to cut it, because all it really did was make me fear for my (and my baby's) life. Each little twinge became the baby making a necktie out of the cord, or possibly a placental rupture. It's very disconcerting, pregnancy.

So. Prenatal classes were offered at the hospital where I'd be delivering, and I figured it was a good idea to know ahead of time exactly where we would be rushing to, with me in a wheel chair while I screamed at the top of my lungs about killing my husband. (Again, I blame TV.)

We started the class a few months before I was due, and it was taught by a woman named Elaine. She was very nice, but a little wacky, and dressed like a clown.

You think I'm being mean, but I mean that she actually, literally, dressed like a clown. One of my favourite outfits was a pair of pants that were (if I remember correctly) black and yellow plaid. They were kind of puffy and cinched just above the ankle. This was worn with a puffy shirt (purple?) with a giant bow on the front. And a beret. Or maybe I'm thinking more of a golfer than a clown. Or maybe a clown golfing.

Anyway. We learned all kinds of things in this class. We learned how to make an emergency diaper out of one of your husband's shirts. We learned valuable time saving strategies for the first weeks baby is home, like don't bother folding laundry, just have a clean basket and a dirty basket because you will be doing laundry constantly. She also kept telling us that baby pee is sterile; I'm still not quite sure why that was so important. We also learned where the fridge was in the maternity ward; which was personally invaluable. I have never enjoyed miscellaneous meat sandwiches as much as I did in the hours after Beege's birth.

We also learned that while it's important to make a birthing plan so that you feel a modicum of control, it's also important to realise that in reality, you have absolutely no control so you shouldn't get too attached. This also turned out to be great advice, considering that I had planned on having a natural birth and ended up being induced and heavily medicated.

BUT. The most important piece of advice that I took away from that class is the one that I will now impart to you. It wasn't for the pregnant women, it was for the support people:

If, in the days following the birth of this baby, you happen across a sandwich that you yourself did not prepare, DO NOT EAT THE SANDWICH. If you eat that sandwich, which the mother probably prepared in the two seconds she had to herself before she ran to see why the baby was crying, you may die. Or at least be resented for the rest of your natural life. (Okay, I added that second part.)

For me, at least, this advice still applies. Do NOT eat my sandwich. Or you may die.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The Mom Cave; I Want One.

Since I read this post at The Bad Moms Club, I can't get the idea out of my mind. I want one.

When I think "Man Cave", I have to admit that what comes to mind is a basement or garage, strewn with junk and home to a falling apart couch that's missing a cushion. It also usually smells like goat and has a TV for watching various sports events. There is also a beer fridge. And guys with big bellies drinking beers from said fridge. There's probably also some ripped lawn chairs. I'm not quite sure why I have this idea stuck in my head, but I blame TV.

I know for a fact that my husband wouldn't have a man cave like that. His would have all of his video game systems, a comfy reading chair and a tonne of books. He might have a fridge, but it would contain Jolt and Gatorade, and he'd have all of his instruments set up; the drum kit could finally come home! Of course, it would still be messy and possibly smell of goat.

But now... now I'm thinking about the "mom cave". With my recent alone-ness and silence requirement realisations, I really think that it would do the whole family a world of good if there was a room in my house that I could retreat to and (hope) not be bothered in.

I can't seem to decide what kind of room I'd like though.

On the one hand, I want a room with big windows and lots of light. There would be a comfy chair, and books, of course. There would be storage space for all of my crafty odds and ends. There would be a sewing table and (finally!) space for a judy. A big worktable and a drafting table would be good too. Lots of wall space to hang "inspiration". Although, now it looks more like a giant multi-purpose studio, than a "cave".

On the other hand, I'd love a cozy room that has a comfy reading chair and lots of books. A good reading lamp, a warm blanket. There would be twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling. Lots of dark wood; I love wood. (Get your mind out of the gutter! Who do you think I am? Beege?) A CD player, maybe a little TV... definitely some noise canceling headphones.

You know what would be perfect? A barn. And insulated, wired, barn. With full plumbing. The first floor would be all studio, and then there would be a cozy little half loft for the reading/relaxing nook.

So I don't really want a "cave". What I really want is an outbuilding.

This would do fine.