Saturday, May 31, 2008
Feverish for a second day in a row, we took him to the doctor. But it wasn't strep throat or anything that could be handled with a quick fix. Our pediatrician basically said to give him Advil for pain and plenty of rest. With that diagnosis, I sent the boy back to school on Thursday.
On Thursday afternoon, little G had her last swimming lesson of the session. She did very well, in fact, she received two badges and can skip the next level. She was so proud of her report and very excited about her badges.
As we drove to pick her brother up from school, I asked her,
"G, did you want to show your brother your swim badges?"
And she replied very matter-of-factly,
"Yeah, but he’s sick, he might throw up on them. No, I don't think so."
Friday, May 30, 2008
U.F.C. is on tonight
Make 'em swim faster
Edited to add: My oh my, my readers are the SWEETEST! Didn't mean to mislead anyone, but we are NOT going through treatment right now (although about a year ago I thought about it for a millisecond). Our family is just right, and more importantly, my 40+ year old eggs and body and psyche could not handle any of that again. I just found that when we were struggling, we didn't hear enough "success" stories. And we were and are so very lucky that everything worked out for us. THIS is the reason I am sharing this personal tale. So people who may be struggling know that there ARE happy endings. The trip wasn't the most fun, but we couldn't have asked for a better outcome.
Let's continue with what we started...
We had talked about having children, although not so much while we were dating. There was some reluctance from my bridegroom to discuss anything related to commitment until we were past a certain stage in our relationship. More precisely once we were wed and I had him shackled to the ball and chain. At one point, he wasn’t even sure he wanted children (which I knew was just a cop out, as he’s always been so good with kids). But the point of this isn’t to bash the man. Discussions did take place about having a child, and just before I turned 31, we decided that we would go for it.
We threw caution to the wind, and I chucked those pills that I had been taking with the utmost compliance for so many years. I had always been regular with my periods, so I figured that it would only take a couple of months, at the most. During that initial time though, we weren’t so much as trying for, but “not really doing anything to prevent”. Despite our wish to have a family we were quite nervous - after all, parenthood is a huge deal.
I had a very good idea as to when I would be ovulating, knew the proper timing to get jiggy with it. Remember, I was like clockwork. So although we were trepidatious, we still were doing all the right things. For some reason, we thought that would be enough.
The first six months, well, nothing happened, and we weren’t all that concerned. But after the seventh and then eighth, I started wondering. And really dreading a particular time of the month more than I ever had before. Still, we continued on our path, but with a bit more intent. I started taking my temperature (BBT), mapping out my cycles. Began to do some more reading, research about preparing the body, best foods to make the body baby-ready; the man was forbidden to cycle overly much, all that fun stuff. I had stopped drinking (alcohol) since day one (which to people who really know me, and any regular reader of my blog, shows seriousness of the greatest magnitude!). Even cut back on the caffeine somewhat.
Still, by the time I turned 32 – nada, nothing, zilch.
At my annual physical, my doctor asked me how marriage was going, and whether we had any thoughts about kids. I told her how long we had been trying and that I was starting to get a bit concerned. While she herself didn’t think that it had been overly long, given my age, the one year mark was a standard timepoint when couples should start inquiring. So she gave me a referral to an infertility specialist just in case - because the earliest I could see him was months away.
And that’s when the angst really started.
And now for a little levity...
My Fashion Friday posts have been MIA of late, but not for lack of material. Yes, last week I did some shopping again and bought a few too many T's for the summer. I did well, taking only 3 bloody hours - kudos to Spongebob and his companion DVD player for babysitting the girl. Well, we did stay longer only because my sister met us and we had to help with her purchases, honestly. But I couldn't resist it ... I just LOVE Free People:
PS: Check here for more inspired haiku's.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Yes, May is a very busy time in our family. Mother’s Day, parents’ anniversary, and today, it’s Mom birthday.
In honour of her birthday, here are 13 reasons why I admire my mother:
1/ She’s different. She's not your typical mom or grandmother. She's tough, not what you call traditionally maternal.
2/ She’s got a heart of gold and she’s a wonderful friend. Just don’t get on her bad side.
3/ She’s a rebel. My grandmother wanted her to be a nun. She didn't. So she saved up money and got herself to London, England on her own coin, to study to be a nurse. She was 18. Then she made her way across the ocean to the US and Canada to further her studies.
4/ She’s smart. She was always studious, but she has common sense and most importantly is life smart. Always thinking about how to optimize a situation (often to the point of complicating things because it takes others a while to follow), but you can't fault her for trying!
5/ She’s not afraid to tell it like it is. In fact, I don’t think she’s afraid of anything or anyone. Fierce, yeah, I'd use that word to describe her. When we were kids she revelled in the fact that the other kids thought she was so tough. (Honestly, though, her bark is much worse than her bite).
6/ She’s very accomplished. A nurse with a specialty in obstetrics; a trained midwife who delivered few hundred babies on her own back in England; a public health nurse (she tested me for scoliosis and lice annually with great vigilance); and then a real estate agent because she thought she'd do a better job selling and buying her own homes than anyone else. She was right, and made it a nice second career choice after retirement.
7/ She's fun and social. We have to book her and Dad months in advance to watch the kids. Chances are they'll be out partying until 3 AM most weekends, while we're in bed asleep by 11,after tucking the kids in. And cruises are their passion. At least one, often two a year with a gang of friends. They just did South America and the South Pole.
And she puts up with my Dad's jokes (he's a real card, Jack Benny style) which she is often the butt of.
8/ She raised us to be decent people. Fairly decent, anyway.
9/ She gave us everything she could while we were growing up. With no family infrastructure to rely on, she took me and my sister all over town for lessons galore, for the most part all on public transit. And when baby brother came along, he wanted for even less.
10/ She’s an energetic go-getter. Always on the go, always on her cell phone; makes me tired just watching her sometimes. I said to hubs that I hope I have that much energy at her age; he said that's impossible because I don't even have that NOW.
11/ She’s loves to dress up. See all those cruises? She's got quite the collection of gowns for the on-ship parties. And she's horrible at purging her wardrobe. Gee, I wonder what I picked up from her?
12/ She’s a great mother. For someone who had a fairly arms' length relationship with her own mother, I learned so much from her while growing up; I continue to learn to this day. And she's so very proud of each her children.
13/ She’s a wonderful grandmother. The love she has for her grandkids and grandbabies is limitless. She's proudest of them most of all.
Happy Birthday Mom!!!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
A couple of months ago we received a card in the mail inviting us to a 25th anniversary party. We were curious, and interested in hearing a living pioneer speak. There was a promise of games and activities for the kids and a buffet lunch. And to top it off, the party was taking place in a banquet hall about 5 minutes from our home. So why not? We rsvp’d our intentions to attend the Silver Anniversary Celebration of IVF Canada.
We arrived at the event and were quite impressed with the setup. We registered and got our name tags; we were asked whether we would be willing to talk to media as they were to be in attendance at some point. I agreed that I would I’m quite open with anyone who asks or even doesn’t ask and am now putting it out there on the internet.
Inside they had fun hoops and minigolf for the children. They had a band of clown musicians (well, they were a little creepy) playing Dixieland tunes, and popcorn and drinks as well as a huge jumping tent rounding out the carnival atmosphere. Balloons and other clowns were plentiful, and people were milling around with their children. The girlie had a couple of balloon animals made for her; the boy some balloon swords. We found a seat with another couple with cute 10 month old twins, a beautiful boy and girl.
As we sat down with our drinks, sitting near the stage where a slideshow of baby photos was being shown, we made conversation with the couple about their children, and their experiences. I kept my peripheral vision on the screen in case I would see little G - I had sent the clinic a birth announcement with our thanks. I wondered aloud whether the first children born from IVF in Canada would be in attendance; they would be around 25 years old now. And my boy asked us what IVF was. I was hesitant as to how to answer that… Ian just replied that it was when a baby was conceived in a test tube or Petri dish. I doubt that the boy understood any of that, but it seemed to satisfy him as he continued to munch on his popcorn.
I looked around the room to see if there were any familiar faces. But to be honest, I may have subconsciously erased many of them from my mind. It is really a blur now. I did however, recognize all of the doctors. I'm not so much of a hussy that I don't recognize the faces of all the men who have peered directly at my nether regions, for one reason or another. I actually remembered which doctor performed which consult, which ultrasound, which procedure. I don't think those memories will really ever escape me.
They opened up the line for the buffet lunch and I got right in there (given the number of people, I thought I'd better lest we be waiting an hour later with two very hungry children). The food was standard filler (burgers, fries, chicken fingers etc...) but it gave us something to do while waiting for something to happen. And finally one of the doctors took to the podium to say a few words.
And they didn't really amount to much. He touched on the number of years that IVF Canada and the Life program have been in existence. That they don't really keep records of how many births they have had from their program, but estimated about 4000 in the last 25 years. He then introduced Dr. Robert Edwards, whose work led to the birth of the first test tube baby Louise Brown, in 1978. Dr. Edwards, who got up to say that he was happy to be here to celebrate this milestone, but that he was really here to visit his brother (remember, this fellow is quite OLD now).
It was a bit anti-climactic. We decided to leave after the speeches, not wanting to wait another hour for a large group picture to be taken. The first boys born from the program did show up and were cutting the massive cake that was to be served.
Our curiosity satisfied, we took the kids out to enjoy the rest of the beautiful Sunday afternoon. It was too lovely a day to stay inside any longer.
But I'm glad we did it. To see so many families together in one room, those who had success stories, children ranging from babies to young adults. People not so different from us. The lucky ones.
My blog has been focused on my shiny, happy family. It likely appears sickeningly sweet sometimes. And perhaps it is so for a reason; it is an ode to my family, my children, my life with my family. But it is ultimately a blog for me.
I've been following another blogger and his journey with his wife through infertility. It is not an easy journey, and Xbox is capturing it all with humour and wit, but there are some very sad, frustrating moments. Through his words, I have thought about sharing my own story. I did not have this space when we were struggling, and I wish I had. I've decided to write a bit about our own roller coaster ride, a little at a time. I'm not sure how far I'll go with this, but it is important.
If my words can help even one person with their infertility struggles, and give them hope, then that will just be icing on the cake.
And as has been my tradition to use music in my Monday posts, here is one of my favourite songs that happened to come out the year that we started our very unexpected journey on the infertility train...yeah, it started that long ago...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
I was reminded recently that this is the house of expired goods...
So off I went to get some fresh ingredients for a fabulous shrimp stir-fry that I had dreamt up for dinner ...
But since it had been such a wonderful week during which I had gone to the gym ZERO number of times, thought we should load up with more healthy fare at Costco ...
You see, I haven't quite figured it out yet; it appears that I get rewards for not working out. Just in time for bikini season. Dang, I'm good...
I really should take a lesson from my youngest, who has decided that she wants to add "soccer player" to her list of future occupations.
I think she's off to a great start, don't you?
For better Weekly Winners check out the home of Sarcastic Mom
Friday, May 23, 2008
While we waited at the checkout, she eyed the doors impatiently and could not wait until we got to them.
"Open Sesame!" I said, and the doors slid open as commanded.
"Open Sesame!" G repeated gleefully, and the next set of doors graciously obliged.
We moved toward the van and G shouted "Open Sesame!" Miraculously her door did as it was told.
After I buckled the girlie into her carseat, she smiled and yelled at her door,
"Close the Sesame, close the sesame!"
G decided to wear her "Toopy and Binoo" pyjamas tonight. She shrieked excitedly as I pulled them from her drawer. I helped her change out of her clothes and as I pulled off her shirt I grabbed her close to me, tickling her a bit as her cuteness was irresistible, and I gave her a quick peck on her cheek.
"Mommy!" she said laughing, "...what are you doing?"
"Mommy's stealing a kiss!", I replied.
My little girl put her hands on either side of my face, brought her own face close to mine and planted a light butterfly kiss on my cheek.
"Now I'm taking it back!" she exclaimed excitedly.
Magic and kisses all in one day. Life can really be sweet.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
But not the details leading up to to it.
I’m wiping away the cobwebs, because this happened almost 15 years ago. Some of the fine details have faded; but other precious moments I recall as if they happened just yesterday. Wait, what happened yesterday? Ugh, loss of memory and long windedness -the perils of aging.
Well, this was it.
After 5 years of dating, a year of “not really knowing” and another of checklists, negotiations, preparations.
Our wedding day.
Or should I say wedding weekend.
For this is what lay ahead: traditional wedding ceremony, pictures taken at Glendon College Campus, “Canadian” white wedding reception at the Sheraton hotel; to be followed the next day by a second, traditional Chinese wedding banquet.
Take a deep breath.
You know when you think you’re so certain of something, you just put your blinders on and trudge right ahead? Focus on the task at hand. I’m pretty good at that. After the wedding date was decided, it was all systems go for me. That was how it felt for Ian too; after he made that tremendous leap off the cliff and presented me with ring (a story for another day) he was pumped for it. We were working toward the biggest party of our lives. It never occurred to me one iota that this was HUGE, this thing called marriage.
However, the magnitude of “the rest of my life” struck me the night before the wedding. The hottest day of the year thus far. I remember being so anxious about the weather; I could just not imagine having to wear my gown and crinoline on another hot, humid day. Lying there in bed that night, my sister in the same room with me, and talking in the dark. Just as we used to when we were little girls. And realizing that this would be the last chat we would have with me as a single girl. It hit me but for a fleeting instant, this “what the hell am I doing? "feeling. The fact that it was there was my pinch of reality. The fact that the feeling was fleeting meant it was right.
The morning of the wedding I woke up to glorious sunshine. There had been rain overnight so miraculously it had cooled down. I remember the tremendous relief. And the butterflies in my stomach. Unfortunately, nerves continued to get the better of me that day; I was quite the stressful bride, as my sister and other bridesmaids have reminded me over the years.
When we drove up to the church, I was so nervous. It didn't help that the service before us had run overtime, and all our guests were spilled out onto the church lawn. When they saw our car drive up, many curious gawkers came up to the limo. So much for my grand entrance. By this point I was stressed to the gills; my father stepped out of the limo to check out what was happening.
By the time all was settled, I walked up with my Dad to the church entrance, just petrified. At the top of the aisle, my Dad, who has never been very demonstrative (typical Asian father, strong, silent type), squeezed my arm and whispered to me "You're doing just great... it will all be just fine.". I almost LOST it right then and there, but this was just what I needed to get me through the day.
I looked down the aisle and saw my groom waiting for me, with the biggest smile, a smile just for me. I walked toward him accompanied by the beautiful soothing voice of Enya resonating through the church. Ian took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and I felt the strength of the two of us ... the stress melted away.
The service itself was very simple. And typical of most days in our life together, tinged with humour. We both could tell that Father Bill had dipped a little into the holy wine. But he did manage to get our names straight, and got us through the ceremony.
Then we were off for the pictures, in the beautiful gardens, with our friends who made up our wedding party. We had some champagne with us, so there were laughs as we did our wedding "poses" in the bright sunshine.
By the time we got to the reception, we were already half an hour behind. So we bypassed the receiving line, and our DeeJay told us he'd just introduce us with our wedding party with the perfect entrance song. Guess what he chose? "Nadia's Theme" aka the theme song from "The Young and the Restless"! A soap opera ... OMG, we laughed as we walked into the hall, as this music was so NOT us!
The evening was such a great celebration, pretty tame with the exception of some leopard skin skivvies that were presented as part of the best man (Ian's cousin) speech about the groom. The laughter, the food, the dancing all went off pretty much without a hitch.
I was so busy, that I did not realize that I had not gone to the washroom ALL DAY until I had to change into my Chinese reception dress.
After that splendid evening, the dancing concluding with a Roxy Music classic we stayed overnight at the hotel, before we had the next celebration at a Chinese restaurant the next day. Another more raucous celebration without crazy Chinese wedding games (I nixed those) but with karoake singing instead of dancing.
The morning after the Chinese banquet, we moved into our first home, and that very same night drove up to Algonquin park for our honeymoon. We were running on pure adrenaline that weekend.
And the person responsible for these lovely sepia candid photos of our wonderful wedding day? My lovely little sister, my maid of honour...
You can tell how much she loves me even in this photo. Why else would she get dressed in that Joan Collins' outfit that I had her wear?
But yet another quirky, wonderful memory of a most special day.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
In danger of becoming a "bad photo" mommy blog, primarily because of this mom's lack of talent as a photographer (I really should take a course to figure out how to optimize my point-and-click camera), I give you this week's selection:
Brother's home-made instrument - the drum tang
Busted...she always gets into his stuff...
The family that plays together ...
But still time to be a princess
For better Weekly Winners check out the home of Sarcastic Mom
Saturday, May 17, 2008
I smile when I hear the cheer in his tone.
"If I were a dog,
And you were a flower..."
Oh, he's such a sweet boy, just loves his Mama so...
"I'd pick up my leg
And give you a SHOWER!"
Heh. Cute. Real Cute.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I've still got not a heck of a lot in terms of writing for the blog this week. Maybe I'm just getting caught up in the mundaneness of my life, after all, researching and measuring and comparing washer/dryer combinations is just about my favourite past-time, next to watching paint dry.
So I'm falling back upon the "Throwback Thursday" tradition over at Pinks and Blues Girls. You really should check these ladies out if you haven't already; they were among the first of my many *snort* readers, and they have a wonderful blog.
Besides, what isn't fun about posting a picture of yourself when you were much, much, younger, much, much cuter, and so much thinner? I'll admit I stole this idea from the blogosphere, so in honour of prom season, here is me all dolled up for the Senior Formal in high school:
(Please pardon my lack of electronic editing capability; when all else fails, Post-it hails).
The fella in the photo is my very first real boyfriend ever, the one that I went ga-ga over and my parents did not really like... more because he wasn't what you called exactly ambitious, but who is as a teenager? In any case, he was a distraction from studies, and that was all sorts of bad. He was a decent guy, we broke up, had the revolving door relationship, but I eventually outgrew him. Some things are not worth reliving through Facebook.
The dress ...this is the dress my mother wore at her wedding reception, slit up to THERE ... stunning, stunning, I know, and it was made especially to her measurements. I was about 16 in this picture, and the dress was a size less than zero. Mom had a whole trunkload of cheongsam saved up in case she ever had daughters.
I went nuts in high school, because I could actually get into them. The last time I wore anything from her trunk, I was 18 years old, for my grad. It would have been wonderful to be able to wear that at my own wedding, but alas, by the time that came around, I could only fit one leg into it. I actually had my very own made for our wedding reception - a picture that I'll have to dig out from the relics at some point. And I bet I can only fit one leg into THAT one too... I don't even want to go there!
(Edited to add:
for the Prom blog carnival over at Mommy martini's: this was actually my first "formal", in grade 12. We went to Fantasy Farm, yeah, great spot, it was as glamorous as the name. But anyway, it was fun, at least what I remember of it. You see, I think I got really drunk on "Brown Cows" but at least did not mess the dress up.
For my final year grad, I wore a lavendar, flapper style chiffon number which looked as lovely as it sounds, complete with a lace polka-dotted sash. And lace gloves to match my Madonna Asian perm and pull the look completely together. For some reason in my senior year I though the cheongsam were so passe. Guess why I don't have a single picture of that event? I must have burned them all. So the above is the "prom" dress I'd like to remember, mostly because I actually fit in it.
Stayed out all night and headed back to school in the morning in the same outfit. What wild kids we were. Something about growing up in Scarberia; they've graduated to shootings and gangland stabbings in that neighbourhood now.)
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
And what a reception. The antipasto bar opened at 5:30; we got there just after 6, and after getting drinks and finding our table, Ian promptly ditched me for the antipasto tables. Somehow I ended up at the hot food area and at the other side of the cold platter table while hubby was just starting to load up. Did I tell you I'm a pro at the buffet (ugh, I don't like run of the mill buffets, but this was irresistible). So I had a mountainous platter by the time I got back to my seat. How bad is it that my friend looked at my plate, laughed and said she wanted to see me eat all that because she KNEW I could!!! Remember, there was still the dinner to come... paced myself and managed to get through two types of canneloni, beef, part of the chicken, and the gelato dessert. Part of a traditional Italian wedding feast. I was all set though, as I had worn my expandable Nicole Miller "garbage bag" dress.
The speeches were so heartfelt; the bride's brother, who is a singer/songwriter, performed a composition written especially for the couple. He's got a scratchy rock voice and while he was singing with his guitar, I was thinking, this young man must have NO problems whatsoever with the ladies. He should think about Canadian Idol.
Then the party got started. The deejay was so much fun. There was traditional Armenian dancing (the ladies danced around in a large circle; I was tempted to join, but with my 4-inch stillettos, I was really afraid of knifing someone's, mainly my own, toes.) The men had their own separate Armenian drinking dance, around a glass and then picking it up with their mouths for the satisfying "gulp" in conclusion.
I was lucky; Ian was in a dancing mood. One thing that I think is great about hubs, is that he likes to dance. He always has, and he's not a bad dancer. Not a Bodyjam dancer, but he appreciates good dance music. Well, despite the 80s swinging arm movements which I forgive him for, because that was the move that just sorta went with the mullet back in the day, you know? We're grooving it up to some Rihanna, Kanye, Timbaland, and then on comes this beat and he says to me...
"Hey, remember when we were in Barbados and I requested this song, I LOVED this song, and the guy looked at me and told me it was SOOOOO old?"
And I said, "Yeah, but it wasn't really that old, was it?"
Barbados, that was a lifetime ago, when we used to do the Caribbean thing every year, the couples-only stuff. No kids.
I didn't remember the song right away, but my memory cell was tweaked... and then the distinctive synthesized notes of the following came on:
Oh yeah, THIS song. And I loved that he remembered it, because it came out the year we got married. So I danced and laughed with my husband, with more fervor and even less inhibition. I was not even inebriated. Just drunk with joy.
So funny that of all the old school songs the DJ could have picked, he chose this one. The one that brought back memories of a time when we didn't yet have children, a time when we were dancing fools, carefree DINKs, a time before we hit the struggles of trying to create a family.
A time of beginnings.
Like this lovely wedding celebration of a couple embarking on an exciting stage of their lives. And yes, marriage, despite the mundane can still be exciting.
There was a quote that came up during the reception, mentioned by the bride's sister, whose husband said on their wedding day, the best part of marriage was that he could fall in love with her again every day.
And I believe that what she said was true.
Even 15 years later. On a banquet hall dance floor in the burbs. It was happening all over again.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
But this morning, it's quiet, too still. The kids aren't here. And it's Mother's Day. Before I get a bit sad, the phone rings. And it's them. My boy, wondering when we were coming to get them. My girl in the background with a "Happy Birthday, Mommy" (close enough!). All is right now.
It's been a pretty busy couple of days, and with the lovely weather we've been having, there hasn't been a lot of picture taking this week.
Except for one very special one...
I'm off to celebrate the day with my mother now.
Have a wonderful Mother's Day.
For other Weekly Winners check out the home of Sarcastic Mom
Thursday, May 08, 2008
To even contemplate labour and delivery. Better yet, look forward to someone the size of a watermelon coming out from through the whoo-hoo. Twice in a lifetime.
The enduring love between a mother and her two precious children.
A bond that knows no bounds.
Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
I am still totally addicted to this Bodyjam hip hop aerobic phenomenon, despite my better judgement. Yes, I did do the 4 hour marathon a few weeks ago, and felt pretty good after it. I'm getting to know some of the kids better, my God they're even FB buddies with me now, as I live vicariously through their party albums and sexy and single vacay pics.
But still, I think I'm officially going through a middle-age crazy stage at the moment.
I don't know if it's just age, or that the air-conditioning hasn't kicked in for spring yet, but I am getting shorter of breath and more tired during the last few weeks . And it's bugging me because the playlist for the newest dance release sounds like this and I want to just RAWK it out:
I've also been reading a few too many beauty mags aimed at the younger set. Although I'd love to dig into some really good, current reads, the couple of minutes I have just before I pass out every night only allow concentration enough to absorb the hottest nail trends for Spring 2008. As a result, I've been picking up various creams and lotions, in an effort to start some sort of skincare regimen now that it's likely already too late. Anything that says "anti-aging" is $$ucking me in (the skeptical scientist in me is sadly starting to be overtaken by the pull of the cosmetics industry's over-the-top mass marketing. Due to my increasing "fear-of-getting-old"ness, I suppose). Sigh.
But if the fierce Material Girl can look and move like this at almost 50:
then the least I can do is keep pushing it. Robaxacet and ibuprofen will just have to stay really close friends.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
As we're making dinner, I'm busy chatting away, filling him in on some of these hilarious stories, how there are so many talented people out there.... blah, blah, blah-de-blah...
And he shuts me down as he's taking the sausages out onto the deck to barbecue.
"Sorry, I'm busy..." giving me a wry "sorta" smile as he shuts the door behind him, cutting me off mid-sentence.
What the ...?!!!!
Well, I'm none too pleased. Yeah, I get that this blogging stuff may be tiresome, but there's no need to be rude - ish. (I know that this is part of his personality, but every three years or so I let it get to me).
I'm fuming while stirring the pasta, and the girlie walks into the kitchen and says "Where's Daddy?"
"He's out on the deck being a pain", I respond. (Maturity, not my #1 trait).
"Oh." she says.
Then she screams through the glass door, "Daddy, why are you outside being a PAIN?"
She's got my back, my girlie does.
(Apparently he was joking, pulling my chain, knowing he would get a rise out of me. He's unbelievably good at this, still after all these years. I should know this by now, grrrr.)
Making Pancakes ...
Eating Pancakes ...
Our new Welcome Mat
(chalked by the Boy before it was washed away by the torrential downpour)
The Family Tree:
Mommy and "Me"
I guess he secretly thinks his sister is cute
Dad has a bit more hair in real life
It's a party inside
For other Weekly Winners check out the home of Sarcastic Mom
Friday, May 02, 2008
In the past few months I have received the following from some great bloggers:
- yummy dark espresso chocolate and a fantastic book for writers, courtesy of the lovely Gina
- a Living the Dream T-shirt via the hilarious Kat
- and now the piece de resistance... a bag. Not just any bag, but a luscious COACH purse from the fabulous Melinda Zook!
So now I'll officially become one of those ubiquitous, annoyingly suburban moms in the minivan with her jug-0-coffee and her mandatory COACH purse. But hey, it's COACH, and it's CUTE and if that's what I'll be labelled, then so be it, because it's, well, it's COACH!!!!
Simmer down, simmer down.
But heh, you know me, always fighting the suburban encroachment into my otherwise cool life (who am I kidding, but please humour me).
I therefore present to you the following items which I just purchased for the summer, to go with my violet hair:
A) To Bodyjam in ...
that's how to stay young, working out with a picture of a much older, cooler woman from her younger years, plastered across your chest.
B) My BOGO purchase from Payless because the girlie wanted Princess light-up sneakers and you should always spend more to save less...
C) And these floaty Buffalo tops ...
I suppose that I may look like one of the Real Housewives of Orange County in these, only without the voluptuous boobs.
Anyone running a boob giveaway on their blog?