Home Alone: The Mr. Earth Chronicles - Day ?? Well I'm back now

Hi All,

Missed me? (Crap forgot the update)

Chores Done Today: 2 (I mowed the lawn - again.. does this count as another chore, screw it, it does. I cleaned the kitty litter (as in completely cleaned it.. ALL the litter out, replaced by new litter...)
Chores Outstanding: 961,532,781,658.95
Number of Steam Cleaners who waaaayyyyyyyyyy overcharged me: 1

Well I'm back and the fam is in a Buick making their way back home trying desperately not to kill each other!

The trip was excellent, I will leave it to my better half to tell you all about it.

So, the steam cleaner is here, and I'm getting a little high from the fumes.. so that's my excuse when this post goes of the rails. Additionally, I'm not sure what smells worse, the fumes from the carpet or the guy doing it.... good times... come on, who wants to come over?? My new strategy is to play show tunes (and sing along) really loud to annoy him... that'll make him do a better job and smell less, yes? Hmmm.. perhaps this isn't the best idea...oh well .. "God Save the People!!" *that was supposed to represent me singing....grrr argh, I don't know how Ms. Earth does this...

Now, I see that some of you (well I think that it was one) would like to hear my fascinating elevator story..

I'm coming back from the 'Bucks and there's this woman on the elevator, and she's checking herself out in the mirror, so I say."Don't worry, you look great!" and she laughs and says, "Well, I gotta look my best", we both laugh and I get off the elevator. Now, later that day I'm taking the elevator down for lunch, and lo and behold, another woman is on the elevator checking herself out. So I (remembering how well it went earlier in the day) come out with "Don't worry, you look great!" and................ it completely dies. She just stands there horrified wishing that I was dead. I think that I completely creeped this poor woman out.. I was only trying to be friendly/ funny ... but there was no recovery from it I just willed the numbers to go faster so I could get off.
(Note: This was one of the only times in my life I left an elevator first - I always try to hold the door for a woman, but, I just wanted to get the hell out of there, chilvary be dammed!)

So... now obviously, not the most fascinating story ever, but certainly it was more interesting than the fact that I went to Starbucks.

I brought my blackberry to PEI (yes, I'm one of those people), and I was able to show Ms. Earth my post, her comment: "Boy, you must really think you're funny"

More later... I feel a nap coming on.. or I may just be passing out from the fumes...

Home Alone: The Mr. Earth Chronicles - Day 4.25

Alas, the taxi is on the way, and I'm off to the airport to join the Fam in PEI.

I will recommence the Home Alone, Mr. Earth Chronicles on Tuesday, when I return for a 2-day mass cleaning.

For clarity, "Man-tidy" means that most of the clothes have been picked up off the floor...

more on tuesday.. when surely I will feel a nap coming on.

Home Alone: The Mr. Earth Chronicles - Day 4.111

Chores Done: 2.7 (I was supposed to steam clean the carpets, but instead, I've called someone to come and clean them.. that's gotta count for something..)
Chores Outstanding: 961,532,781,660.95
Days actually spend at work doing work: 1

So Blogger-iffics,

I know you missed my musings yesterday, but I actually had to do some work at work! Really the nerve of it all! So, I apologize.

Nomo, the boys, and her parents are all doing well in PEI and are anxiously awaiting my arrival, to punish me for all the fun that I've been having.

Questions, we've had some questions in the comments... (oh, and thanks to all who have commented, and apologies to all who are reading this expecting the exquisite prose of Ms. Earth, and are left with me....)

1. What's the origin of motherbumper?
- Well this one is easy, obviously the blogger is a hit-man/woman/person for the mafia and specializes in "bumping-off" other members. (Note to self: be nice to motherbumper)

2. Am I an actuary?
- Yes! (I used to be very smart)

3. What is an actuary?
- Well according to the Canadian Institute of Actuaries (the CIA - yes, I'm a member of the CIA, so you'd better watch out...)

Actuaries are professional business people who are skilled in the application of mathematics to financial problems. Actuaries employ their specialized knowledge of the mathematics of finance, statistics and risk theory on problems faced by:
- insurance companies (both Life and Property/Casualty)
- pension plans
- government regulators
- social programs
- individuals
(but wait there's more)

Actuaries have practical business sense, the creativity to apply training and experience to new problems and provide innovative solutions, and the communication skills required to convince both colleagues and clients. They help people plan better for the future by controlling or reducing financial risks.

Wow, that's a mouthfull!

After reading that it's COMPLETELY OBVIOUS why I became an actuary.....

For the chicks, it drives them crazy with desire.

Moving on......

As I'm taking over my wife's blog, I thought that it would be fun for all her readers to get to know the real truth about her.. so, without pause it's time for...

Fun Facts about Nomo that she probably doesn't want me to tell everyone

Fact #1. She loves to run (and thinks she's faster than me!)
- She is the little runner girl (pa-rum-pa-tum-tum)

Fact #2. She loves all the blogger friends she's made.
- She really does, and thank you all for being such a welcome part to her/our lives.

Fact #3. She has an unhealthy obsession with sweets.
- Apparantly, "Dinner is not dinner without dessert! It would be similar to a person without feet"

Fact #4. She's a really talented actor.
- Oh my goodness, she's good! (Oh, and go see her show...)

Fact #5. She "gloms" on to the wrong part of the story.
- It's very difficuly to tell Ms. Earth a story, as she will "glom" on to a rather insignificant part of the story... you're going to need an example..

Mr. (start of a story) "So, I'm coming back from the 'Bucks and there's this girl on my elevator, and she's checking herself out in the mirror, so I say.."
Ms (interrupting): "You went to starbucks?"
Mr.: "Yeah, so I say to her"
Ms. "I thought that you always went to Timmies in the morning at work?"
Mr. "Yeah, I do but the coffee train left without me"
Ms. "Coffee train?"
Mr. "You know, when I round everyone up to get coffee, I tell them that the coffee train is leaving and we all go..
Ms. "That's kind of lame. But, if you're the conductor of the train, why did it leave without you?"
Mr. "The train waits for no man.. So.. I say to this girl.."
Ms. "Are you the conductor of the coffee train?"

And on it goes.... BTW, the elevator story was a good one. And she'll never know it.. sigh...

more later... I feel a nap coming on...

Home Alone: The Mr. earth Chronicles - Day 2.35

Chores Done: 2.6 (I've moved garbage closer to the door, in order to be put out this evening)
Chores Outstanding: 961,532,781,661.05
Days actually spent at work: 1

Ok, so I'm at work today.

Now, I'm sure that I've the first blogger (to be clear I'm more of a pinch-blogger, or blogger-sub) in history who has ever blogged at work... but, safe to say - I feel a little dirty.

I believe that we have touchdown in PEI. The fam has made it, and, more importantly, everyone is still alive!

Back to me! Now, as mentioned earlier, (well I don't know if I actually mentioned it, but I was thinking it) it's not easy being the spouse of the blogger. Certain demands are placed on us.. often I get the following questions / statements:

- What should I post about? (and then after I suggest something) No, something actually good!
- Hold on, I gotta read this one more post.
- Did you like my post?
- Why don't you comment on my post?
- I was going to (make dinner/pay bills/shower/play with children/build you a shrine) but I had to read this post.

Often, I suggest brilliant ideas for a post, so without further pause, here are my top 5 suggested (and subsequently rejected) post ideas.

5. Our Cat.
Ms. Earth thinks our cat is the devil. To be clear, she thinks that our cat is not just any devil but the devil. I think she's kinda sweet. Sound like an interesting post? Apparently not.

4. Reviews of Cast Recordings.
After suggesting this, Ms. Earth piped up with "No straight man should like show tunes as much as you do".

3. Being married to an actuary.
Ms. Earth - "I'm already bored"

2. What a fantastic lover I am.
Ms Earth - "Who?"

1. Our new toilet!
Ok, some background needed here...

If we're going to be talking about me (and that seems to be the point) then you need a little back ground information

- I have a university degree in Math and Theatre
- I take singing lessons (and have for the past 8 years or so)
- I have a grown-up job
- I AM NOT HANDY AT ALL. The fact that I have 2 hands is the closest I can claim to being handy. So... when our toilet died last week (crack in the porcelain) we had the following conversation

Ms. - "Our toilet has died"
Me - "Crap!" (pun intended - did I mention that I think I'm funny)
Ms. - "We need to buy a toilet and call a plumber"
Me - "No, I think I can do it"
Ms. - "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! No really, do you know any plumbers?"

So, I spend the next 8 hours watching as many youtube clips on how to replace a toilet and took my ego-bruised self to the Home Depot. There I bought a toilet and somehow managed to get it home (holy moly are they heavy).

Now the guy at the home depot said it should take about 45 mins to an hour. Well.... after 2 hours I had finished... and I have to say... (to quote DJ Lance Rock) it's AWESOME! Honestly, it's spectacular! Everything about it is better than the old one... it looks better, feels better, it's got 2 buttons (one for little pees, and one for poos) - and that's cool! It's a treat to use!

Now, honestly, wouldn't that have made for a fantastic post?

More later... I feel like a nap is coming on...

Home Alone: The Mr. Earth Chronicles - Day 1.5

Chores Done: 2.1 (ran the diswasher, and put away dishes, but I think I'm creating mess, and it looks less tidy.. so I'm deducting some points)
Chores Outstanding: 961,532,781,661.9
Movies Seen: 1 (Tropic Thunder!)

Hello Blogger-iffics!

Now, I know that I was supposed to do chores.. .but a movie? In the afternoon? All by my lonesome? So I could look like some creepy loser guy? I mean really who could resist that? So, I went and saw Tropic Thunder... really enjoyed it. Don't know if I enjoyed it so much because I wasn't at work or if it was really good but nonetheless I enjoyed it!

So.... comments, I have comments regarding my other post. Basically I can surmise that I'm a knob. Mr. Earth = Mr. NoBrainEarth.

Really, can I be any more simple? Looking at the answers it's obvious..

Let's review shall we..

beck is short for becky...
'pie = kittenpie
mad hat = angry milliner

Surely, if left alone, I should have been able to figure that out on my own? Yes? Oh well, let's see if I can figure out the others...

Metro mama - This one is easy - obviously someone who is obsessed with the letter M and being retro - hence Metro. At first I thought that it was pronounced Meeee-Tro, as in "you throw me the ball and Me-Tro the ball back to you"... but I quickly wised up.

Painted Maypole - Obviously someone obsessed with Shakespeare. (Yes, I get the Midsummer's reference)... I take this to mean that the blogger is not of this world, but is a fairy.

Kyla - I surmise that you must be obsessed with Kylie Minogue - "Everyone's doing a brand new dance now!"

Just got off the phone with Ms. Earth.. the call went something like this ...

Ms. Earth: "Where were you?"
Mr. Earth: "At the movies!!!"
Ms. Earth: "Without me?"
Mr. Earth: "Oh crap, you mean you weren't there?"
(Aside: Looking back this is where things may have started to go wrong... probably best not to make jokes after seeing a movie, when wife is stuck in car for 18 hours. Note to self: remember this )
Ms. Earth: "al;kjzc;xcl fja;od!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Mr. Earth: "oh, and I got the glossettes and they tasted like wax peanuts ... it kinda sucked"
Ms.: "!!*&!(*@^$)(*@^#)!("
Mr.: "How's it going with you?"

More later... I feel like a nap is coming on...

Home Alone: The Mr. Earth Chronicles - Day 1

Chores Done: 1.25 (Mowed the lawn, did a little bit of tidying... it's 'man-tidy' now)
Chores Outstanding: 961,532,781,664
Playstation 3's set up: 1!!!

Hello all bloggerites? blogger-folks? blog-a-rama-ding-dongs? screw it, I'm going with Blogger-iffics!

As requested by my wife, you get my random musings for a few days...

So... the fam is on the way to PEI and last night was my first night of freedom... so... what do you think I did? Let's have a quiz... did I:

a) Booze, broads, bikes and barbituates!
b) Update my shrine to my wife and children
c) Try to think of funny post ideas
d) Fall asleep in front of the TV

The answer is..... D. Yes, it's true, I'm a loser, I have a completely free evening, and I fall asleep in front of the TV - then wake up at 5am.. and couldn't get back to sleep. So, I just layed there and thought about all the chores I have yet to do.


Now, as I'm new to this whole blog thing.. I have many questions... help me out here people:

- Why are Frog and Toad still friends? When were they not friends? And what does that even mean? And what does that have to do with the pop-singer Beck? He's got 2 turn-tables and a microphone... not random amphibians!

- What's really under the Mad Hat? And who's exactly angry here? The Hat? Do we have one seriously pissed off garment here? Or is it 'mad'? Like "bad" is actually good? Did that make any sense?

- Life of 'Pie? Wasn't this a book? What's the significance of the apostraphe? What's it in place of? Am I just slow...? I'm probably slow...


I've got lots more questions, but I feel a nap coming on..... better not risk it... more later, including:

5 Posts my wife should have written!!!!
Mr. Earth.

We're Off Like a Dirty Shirt

This morning we leave for PEI. Or, P "D" I, as the Boy insists on calling it. I have packed THE WORLD. Seriously. If you need it, I've probably packed it. With two kids who don't like the car, I'm taking no chances. Say a prayer for me, will ya?



I doubt we'll have internet access where we're going, so posting and visiting is going to sketchy at best. I've just about convinced Mr Earth to be a guest poster while I'm gone, but he's scared that you won't show him the love. So, if you see some new posts between now and September 4th, please give stop by and say hello. He's much funnier than me, and a hell of a lot cuter.


In the meantime, my regular Thursday posts will be up at Playdate. On August 28th, I will be sharing my top ten kid-friendly TV shows and movies that don't make me want to jab a spork into my thigh, and September 4th it's going to be a celebrity Sesame Street videopalooza. Good times.



See you in September!

Did you know that Jesus can read feet?

Jesus: Did I ever tell you that I used to read feet?

Jeffrey: What?

Jesus: Some people read palms, tea leaves? I read feet. (Jeffrey shakes his head) No, look! (Jesus grabs Jeffrey's shoe.) Aha, it says rejoice!

(Everybody crowds around Jeffrey to look at his shoe.)

Jeffrey: It says "Keds".

Wanna know why I'm quoting Jesus? C'mon over and read.

The Gargoyle Got My Tongue

The thing is, when you have a kid, your freedom is severely truncated. When you have two kids, you realize just how much freedom you had when you only had one. There simply isn't enough time in the day. Something's gotta give.

I have very little free time without a baby in my lap or a preschooler shouting (happily) in my ear, and I've found that when I do have free time, I have to make a choice. Do I want to read blogs? Or write in my own? Do I want to clean the house (ha, ha)? Do I want to have a nap? Do I want to write that post for Playdate? It's due Thursday. Oh, and I'm going away for two weeks, and I really should figure out what I need to pack.

So, I apologize for not visiting your blogs lately, and I haven't had much time to write anything of interest (with the exception, perhaps, of my posts at Playdate). You may have been under the impression that I'd already gone on my vacation, but we don't leave until Sunday. What I have been doing with my spare time is reading The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson. You'll remember that everyone attending the BFF was given a free copy thanks to Random House?

Well, I had to finish reading Twilight, but I knew that it was next on my list. A book like that generally pushes through to the top of the pile because it hits all my "must-read" buttons. Historical Romance? Check. Hero overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds? Check. Artist exemplifying their process? Check. Medieval religion? Check. Cool cover art? Check - I absolutely judge a book by it's cover. Great title? Check. I mean, c'mon, "gargoyle" is just a fun word. Not one that you get to use much in daily conversations, either. (Honey, could you take the gargoyle to the curb for me? Who left their dirty socks on the gargoyle? Does anyone know how to take a stain out of a gargoyle?)

Apparently, it's being met with mixed reviews. Some people have suggested that the writing is clumsy, and the author is trying to do too much. Maybe. Fact is, I kind of like that about it. It's the author's debut and he's trying to find out what he's all about. It's not going to be perfect, and nor should it have to be. There were a couple awkward parts, like the "trippy" through the Inferno that I didn't think quite hit the mark. But, there were some brilliant bits too, like the romantic fables from around the world.

Me, I like reading stuff from authors who haven't "made it" yet. It's refreshing. Kind of like watching Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise - you didn't know who that hot guy was, but you could put money on the fact that he had a future in showbiz. Anyways, I'm not a literary critic, and I don't pretend to be one. I have read a lot of books though, and I know what I like and what I don't like.

I used all my non-existent free time to read this book. Instead of checking emails. Instead of blogging. Instead of napping for God's sake. Every free moment that I had, I used to read this book in (for me, right now) record time. When I wasn't reading the book, I often thought about it. When I wasn't reading the book, I was trying to find time when I could read it. I'm not saying it was the best written book I ever read. It wasn't. I'm not saying everyone would like it. They might not. But I had a really, really hard time putting it down. My absence in the blogosphere (and my dirty house) will attest to that.

I think I MAY watch too much TV..

I'm over at Playdate today, talking about all the HGTV and TLC shows I've watched while breastfeeding - specifically Jon and Kate Plus 8. Upon reflection, I watch waaaaaaay too much TV. That was so not the point of the post. Go on over and tell me what you think about Jon and Kate though. Inquiring minds want to know.

Alternate title for this post: Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Designers.

Dora and Diego Learn A Lesson About the Evils of Drinking

For Wordless Wednesday

The Drama Behind the Post

So, yes, it's Thursday and I'm over at Playdate talking about the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight.

What the post doesn't talk about is how hard it is to actually get out to see a movie once you have kids. First, you have to find someone who is willing to look after a 3-year-old AND a baby. Luckily, we have three sets of grandparents who are very good about us coming to visit and leaving the kids there for a couple of hours.

Second, with breastfeeding and naps, the timing has to be perfect. I knew we were in trouble when the Little Guy woke up a full hour and half before his usual crack of dawn waking time. And would not go back to sleep. After his morning nap, we jumped in the car and drove to the in-laws. I fed him and we jumped back in the car, minus kids, to make the noon show.

The movie was awesome! But when we got back, we found out that the Little Guy had been screaming or fussy for the past two hours, as we were greeted with the following salutation:

"Your second son is a hellion."

My first reaction was guilt. I don't like to hear that the Little Guy was not happy, and I felt bad for wanting to take time for myself. (Eventhough everyone needs a break sometimes!) I also felt bad that my mother-in-law had to put up with the screaming. I've been there and it's no fun.

My second reaction was anger. I take great exception to someone calling the Little Guy a hellion (other than myself or Mr Earth), even if they meant it as a "joke". And even I don't use the word hellion, and I tend to be over-dramatic (ahem). I usually use the word(s), Crankee-Doodle-Dandee, or Crankasaurus. Or NOT HAPPY. In capital letters.

And, just to be super duper nit-picky and grammatical, I would really prefer that she said "He acted like a hellion." He is most decidedly NOT a hellion. He is quite a happy baby most of the time. He simply wants what he wants and WOE BETIDE the person who does not give it to him right away. But as he is still a baby, he cannot tell you what he wants.

Anyways, we were supposed to stay for dinner, but my mother-in-law didn't have time to cook because she had to hold the Little Guy for the whole two hours. I suggested that we order something - on us (oh the guilt) - but I could tell that she was tired and would rather that we take our kids and go.

No skin off my nose. The rest of the day worked out just fine. We got home in time to calm the kids down with dinner and quiet play before bedtime. But I guess you could say we were sent home without our supper.

Go over and read the post at Playdate if you want to know what I thought about the movie.

525,600 Minutes

Okay, it's probably more like 960 minutes. Or 1080 minutes, according to my mom. All I know is that it seems like an eternity, and it's scaring the hell out of me.

A road-trip to Prince Edward Island.

My parents have rented a cottage near the beach for the last week of August, and we're going along for a vacation, and to split the cost. My parents, myself and the boys will be driving out, and Mr Earth will fly out for the long weekend. I'm VERY much looking forward to staying in PEI for a whole week. Very exciting! What I am NOT looking forward to is the 16 to 18 hour drive that it will take to get there.

With a three-year old.

And a baby who currently HATES all car trips, even if they only last for five minutes.

We're going to be taking it slowly - making the trip over 3 days - and taking lots of breaks. We're also going to be playing musical seats, so that I'm not the only person who has to entertain the crowd in the back seat. But still. Sixteen, possibly eighteen, hours. I've already entered retail therapy, and the trip hasn't even started.

Mr Earth has kindly bought two books at my request: When Dinosaurs Came with Everything and Wild About Books. I'm looking for a copy of If I Built a Car, but it is as elusive as the Bumble. Apparently, these books are great for reading aloud, and cover the topics that the Boy loves best: cars, dinosaurs and animals.

This afternoon, I went to The Store Which Shall Not Be Named to look for some cheap, packable toys. I spent $50, and what I came back with will probably only keep them occupied for about 5 minutes.

In short, I'm screwed.

Here's what I got:

1. A BPA-free teething ring: We have about a gazillion teething paraphernalia, and I can't stop buying them. It's a problem. This one is colourful and has cute little bugs on them. In my defense, the Little Guy is a teething fiend these days, and GOD FORBID that you offer him a teething option that he doesn't want to play with. He will give you the Evil Eye. And then scream.
2. Stacking Cups: Yeah, this was stupid. Technically, we already have stacking cups, but one of the cups is missing. Do you know how hard it is to stack cups when a cup is missing?? Plenty hard. Plus, it annoys the hell out of me. My OCD rears it's ugly head. I can't sleep. It's bad, folks. These cups also link to form a caterpillar, and can double as bath/sand toys.
3. Two Small Disney Cars: The Boy already has four of these, and really likes them. This one has a firetruck in the set, and that should win me some brownie points. Plus, the cars are really small, so not a bother to bring along. Heck, I'll even throw in the cars he already has. I'm that nice.
4. Eight Chunky Sesame Street characters: I'd never seen these before, and they were 2 for $5! I was hoping that these would be the magical crossover toy - The Boy wants whatever the Little Guy has and vice versa. They should work for creative play with the Boy, and are large enough (and wooden, not plastic!) for the Little Guy to mouth. (Yes, technically, I could have just gotten two, but then it would bother me that I don't have all the characters. I have a soft spot for all things Sesame Street. Especially the Grouch. He's my homeboy.)
5. A Disney Cars book: It was cheap, and the Boy will love it. I, decidely, will not.
6. A rubber-ducky in a fireman's suit: Okay, I had no earthly reason to buy this. I saw someone in line with it last time I was at the store and just really wanted it. Seems I have a rubber-ducky problem too. And hey - it is a bath toy! And it tells you if the water is too hot! It's useful, dammit!
7. A sunhat for the Little Guy: Not a toy at all. BUT, it has cute little bees on it - how could I resist? I'm having a hard time finding a hat that has good sun protection (this has a wide brim), and doesn't fall in his eyes (seems to fit). Did I mention it's cute?
8. Phone and Keys: These have buttons on them that make sounds and play music. It will drive me nuts, I'm sure, but it was $5 dollars for the set, and it will stop the Little Guy from stealing the real things and spitting up on them. The Boy, hopefully, will want to play with them too.

Phew! Apparently, when I go shopping, I should leave my ovaries at home.

If anyone has suggestions as to how to keep a 3 year-old and a 9 month-old occupied from Toronto to PEI, and back again, please let me know. Or I may just not come back.

Report Card #4

I got handed an envelope at daycare as I was dropping off the Boy the other day. Being the good parent that I am, I went home, put it on the dining table and promptly forgot about it. This is what having a second child does to your brain. I neglected to remember that July brings the bi-annual "child development review" from our daycare. Let's have a look-see...

Language Development

The Boy often calls attention to himself, objects, or events in the environment: "Look, I wear number T-shirt." He likes to talk about objects and ongoing events. He enjoys participating in conversations and discussions.

I laughed and laughed when I opened it up and read the line "The Boy often calls attention to himself." He favourite phrase is actually "Look at me! Look at ME-E!" I don't know where he gets that from - xcoughx MrEarth xcoughx. The apple doesn't have very far to fall, I'm just sayin'.

Cognitive Development

The Boy likes to listen to age-appropriate stories. He makes relevant comments during stories. He enjoys drawing pictures and attempting to reproduce basic shapes. He is able to name the primary colours and he can count to 10.

[Pic. "Robot in a Box" by The Boy 8/1/08]

Okay, now this just begs the question - are they reading him age IN-appropriate stories? I didn't really think it was that kind of daycare.
And yes, he is able to count to ten, but after ten, it all goes to pot. Twelve-eleven-thirteen-fourteen-fiveteen. Fiveteen is just too funny to correct. In fact, he may just start a trend. It makes sense! You can't fault him on that.

Motor Development

The Boy is able to go up and down stairs unassisted. He enjoys jumping in place and pedaling a bicycle. He enjoys building with blocks and playing with playdough. He shows improved control of crayons or markers. He likes to make pictures.

Thank god for the stairs thing! I can't even begin to count the freakouts I've had about that. He used to start walking down the stairs, and would just forget to pay attention. I had vertigo on his behalf. It's so much better now. But who am I kidding? I still watch him like a hawk. I just can't let it go.
Yeah...about the bicycling thing. Really? When he "rides" his bike around the neighbourhood, I'm doing all the work. I'm the Boy's bitch. Or donkey. (Which is more flattering?)

Food Consumption / Sleeping Behaviours

The Boy has a good appetite. He usually eats 1-2 servings of lunch. He can feed himself independently. He is able to fall asleep by himself after settling down on the bed. He normally sleeps about one hour and a half.

The Boy has NO PROBLEM feeding himself independently. Unless the food is healthy. I'm willing to bet that those 1-2 servings consist mostly of bread and cheese. Possibly ice cream.

Social Interaction (peers / adults)

The Boy is pleasant and cooperative. He has a sense of humour we all enjoy. He likes talking and singing among his friends. He takes pride in his work well done. He often proudly shows the pictures he made to the teachers. He cooperates well and he is a good helper and model at clean-up time.

The Boy thinks he is VERY funny. I don't know if he is or not, but he amuses me to no end. He's developped this way of laughing at his own jokes by sticking his tongue in his teeth and sort of hissing through them. No idea where he got that, but it's kind of endearing. I tried to introduce the concept of Knock-Knock jokes, but he didn't quite get the reciprocal nature of it. Plus, he's the only person allowed to be knock-knocking at the door. If you say someone or something else is there, he just looks at you like you've grown a second head.

Inappropriate Behaviours to Monitor (if app.)

N/A

Hm. He's 3.5. I beg to differ. Surely he shares the whining and tantrums with others, and doesn't just hoard them up for home??

Additional Comments

The Boy has good performance at Rob's music class. He also enjoys working with Doris during art activities. He is happy and well adjusted. He has a good relationship with his baby brother, parents and grandparents. It is a pleasure to have him in the preschool room.

Obviously we have a good relationship - we dress him in trucker hats and wifebeater tanks. We're Parents of the Year. Now, if only we could convince him to fetch our beer, we'd be all set.

Television Addicts Unite!

Calling all television whores!



Ali from Cheaper than Therapy wrote a post awhile back asking people for suggestions as to what shows to watch. It totally inspired me to write up my own personal recommendations. After all, I've spent a goodly portion of the last few years watching TV (er, well, my life, actually..). I'm something of an expert. Sad, but true.



So, if you're bored with the summer line-up, click on over to Playdate and see what Mama Drama recommends to chase away the TV blues.

All I Want for August is my Two Front Teeth..

We're Through

Dear Snotty Moms from my Moms Group:

It is with great regret that I must inform you that I am no longer in need of your services. The past few years have been a most interesting experience - one that I will not likely be capable of duplicating.

I came to you, alone and bewildered, seeking companionship and advice. Although it must have been difficult for you to accept an outsider into your ranks, you made certain to advise me on the correct way to do just about everything child-related. When I went astray, you issued almost subtle reminders to stay the true path. When I tried to make connections beyond our weekly appointments, you urged me to stay strong and self-reliant in my independence. At times, I thought I was being rebuffed, but now I know that I was simply being over-sensitive. You surely had my best interests at heart.

I feel just terrible that I didn't get to speak much with any of you at the "1-year-old Party". I was too concerned that my newly walking child would topple and hurt himself. At the "2-year-old Party", finding myself with no one to talk to, I simply played fun games with your children while you chatted amongst yourselves. I hope you didn't find it rude that I'd rather hang out with your kids than you. It didn't come as much of a surprise to me that I ending up only hanging out with my boys at the "3-year-old Party". The baby was young and needed tending. And no doubt you felt a disconnect, as we hadn't had a decent conversation for several years.

I'm not sure why I chose to go to Niagara with a bunch of you awhile back. It sounded like fun, and a chance to get away for the weekend. I didn't miss having a roomate at all, actually. I really don't like to share a bathroom unless absolutely necessary. And, I got a good night's sleep. That alone was worth the trip.

It really was my fault about joining the Book Club. I knew full well that I don't like being told what to read, and how fast. I chafe at the bit. In this, if nothing else, I am a free spirit. I was a little ticked off when - for months - not one of my book suggestions was even considered. When the group finally came round and agreed to read my proposed novel, it was certainly a coincidence that the group simply didn't meet that month. And never spoke of the book again.

Please understand that it is, to be utterly cliché, not you - it's me. I wanted connect with friendly women. When you couldn't be those women, I should have left. I persisted. I wanted playmates for my son. I wanted him to get to know some of the kids he would eventually go to school with. Knowing that some of you are destined for the PTA, I didn't want any bias against me to affect him. I tried and I tried. And then I tried again.

I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of being snubbed in the street, the coffee shop, and the park. I'm tired of being ignored. I'm tired of caring about being ignored. I'm just really tired. So, when you see me in one of those places and I don't say hello, please don't be offended. I didn't say hello because I simply didn't see you. If I had seen you, I would have come over, made pleasantries, and then made my excuses to leave. I was, after all, raised to be polite. Bitter, but polite.

Yours truly,
Nomo

Can Adults Go Back to Kindergarten?

Because I really think I need a refresher. I swore that I would do everything differently the second time around. That I would finally be "the perfect parent". Yeah, and that's going to happen REALLY SOON... Just wait for it... Ok, anytime now.

The only thing that's different this time around are the mistakes I make. (Hey, at least I'm not make the same mistakes as before! That's progress, right??)

Moving right along. It's Thursday! Go on over to Playdate and read about the timely lesson I received from reading a kid's picture book. It's never to late to learn.

C'mon. Show Mama Drama some love.

Not all Starbucks are created equal

Just back from Blog Friends Fest, and everyone is writing such lovely recap posts. I did, in fact write a nice post about it, and you can read it here. Or here. But I've got a bee in my bonnet, and I need to let it out.

Mr Earth calls me a "glommer". I glom on to insignificant, ultimately unimportant details, and my head just keeps spinning that one little tiny fact around and around. There's a lot of space in my head, and the little factoids have plenty of room to move. Heck, they could do a line dance in there. Anywho..I thought I would do a heretofore uncharacteristic purge of the glom so I could move on to mulling over the fabulous time I had this weekend.

Saturday morning, 9am.

I've been up for hours. The Little Guy is not such a big fan of sleep. I've fed him and pumped milk for his cereal. I went down to the fitness centre and used the treadmill amongst a couple of older, muscle-bound men. Strong, silent types. I wisely kept to myself and watched the early risers in the pool. I went back to the room and had a shower. I knew that I would need coffee before the session. So I took my book and myself over to the Starbucks across from the Hilton. (Note: this is why I have coolest husband in the West End - he let me have coffee and reading time BY MYSELF. He knows the way to my heart, he does.)

I haven't had breakfast yet, and I don't know what, if any, food will be at the meeting. (As it turns out, there was food and it was so expensive we should have gotten a lap dance along with it for the price..) So I check out what this Starbucks has to offer. Despite my sweet tooth, I prefer healthy-ish breakfast, so I pass by all the pastries, and opt for the only somewhat healthier muffin. They have a bran muffin, but I only like bran muffins if there's fruit in it. This one looks barren. I look around for someone to ask, but everyone is ignoring me, eventhough I'm the only one in line. Finally, a barista finishes her coffee and approaches the desk. So I ask:

"Does that bran muffin have fruit in it or is it just bran?"

"Um, I think it might have raisins in it."

Another barista comes over and says, "No, it's just plain. No raisins."

"Oh, um, er..." I reply, my face scrunching in indecision.

The second barista opens the case and starts taking out a bran muffin.

"Oh, I'm not sure what I want yet thanks." Why she couldn't see that, I don't know.

She throws the muffin back down in the bin, slams the case shut and walks away. A little taken aback, I quickly choose a banana muffin and a Grande NonFat Bold Misto.

The other barista says, "That'll be $7.01."

I stare at her blanky. "How much was the Misto?"

"$3.25."

"How much was the muffin?"

"$2.95."

I stare confusedly. This is the same order I get every weekend after my run. I only take a five dollar bill with me, and I usually have change left over.

The sulky barista comes back from her tantrum and volunteers, "This is not a corporate Starbucks."

I turn to the other barista to clarify, "So it's more expensive."

"Pretty much," she offers sheepishly.

I was floored. I've never heard of a renegade Starbucks with the ability to charge whatever they so desire. They are a Starbucks. They are using the logo. As far as I'm concerned, they are therefore bound by practices of all Starbucks. Aren't they?

Of course, I had already ordered and the drink was made, so it was too late to walk away. I coughed up the money reluctantly, and went to sit down to enjoy my VERY EXPENSIVE coffee and a muffin. Be sure that I was going to eat every last crumb and drain the cup to the dregs. But it left a bad taste in my mouth.

We were going to stop at Starbucks on our way out of town, but opted for Tim Hortons instead. If you're in Niagara and want a coffee, I suggest you do the same. Unless you've got money to burn.

We're BA-ACK...!

And man, am I ever tired. And the house is a mess. And I have to do a LOT of laundry. But it was well worth the worrying, packing, stressing and overspending. What a great bunch of bloggy buddies I have. I wrote about it over at Playdate because Ford sponsored our little road trip....

I was a little hesitant about going to the Blog Friends Fest. Not only am I incredibly shy in large groups, but I didn't know how everything would work out bringing the baby along. A weekend of drunken debauchery with a baby on the hip is sooo Britney.

Over eight months and he still won't take a bottle come hell or high water. Sigh. It's just as well - I'm not sure that I could leave him for a whole weekend right now. Luckily for me, I was able to call in the reserves.

Keep reading..

So Long, Farewell

We're off to the Blog Friends Fest in Niagara Falls this weekend. I'm so nervous I could puke. When participating in group activities, I either blurt out atrocious oddities, or can't think of anything to say - at all. If you see a faux redhead carrying a twenty pound baby, please take pity on me. Offer to carry the baby. (Hey, he's really heavy!)

Actually, I'm so worried about whether or not I packed everything, that I don't have time to be nervous...yet. I think I may have overpacked (stop rolling your eyes, Mr Earth..) Lucky for us, the fine people at Ford offered to sponsor BFF and the family gets to drive to the Falls in a Ford Flex. It has a refrigerator! It has a built in DVD player and satellite radio! You can unlock the door without the key! I may never leave. And when the Boy finds out that there's a TV in the car, his head is going to explode from the excitement.

Check in with Playdate to hear about the trip.

I want to join the Evil League of Evil..

Hey, it's Thursday! That means I'm over here:





(BTW, doesn't Motherbumper make the purtiest buttons? You rock, MB!)

For anyone - like me - who's already bored with the lack of good television during the summer, I think you're really gonna like this post...



Here's the thing: I love summer. I really do. I love the sunshine. I love watching the wind blowing through the leaves. I love that I don't have to hunt around for hole-free socks in the morning. What I don't love about summer is the dearth of good television available. Yeah, sure, there's TV on DVD (how parents of small children survive without this, I'm not sure), but we jumped on that bandwagon ages ago, and we're running out of shows to watch. I'm starting to get the shakes. Thanks to Joss Whedon, though, I can cure my summertime blues and satisfy my lust for *MORE! SHINY! NEW!* programming...on the Internet.



Keep reading here..

Mr Sandman Send me a Dream

What happened to the "Hundred Days of Hell" theory anyways? You know the one - the whole sleep deprivation sucks for about three months, and then things start to work themselves out? Well people, we're on Month 8 now, and there is no rest for the weary here at Casa Earth. If you're wondering why I don't post more often - or why all my posts are pictures without text - it is because I am TOO TIRED TO THINK. I know, I know, my life is horrible....wah, wah...suck it up.

Despite the fact that the Little Guy stopped wanting to breastfeed through the night ages ago, he is still up about four times or more screaming and having to be put back to sleep. If you give him the soother and rock him in your arms, he will go back to sleep, but he may be up for twenty minutes, or he may be up for an hour or more. Mr Earth and I take turns soothing the savage beast, and it's taking it's toll. We muddle through as best we can, but how long can people survive on about four hours of (interrupted) sleep before they start to go a little nutty? I've always said that I can handle just about anything if I get a good night's sleep. I can't seem to handle ANYTHING without sleep. I'm crabby. I'm snappish. I'm mean. I don't like hanging out with me, and I can't see why anyone else would want to, either.

I know I could keep dealing with the lack of sleep, as long as there is, in fact, an end in sight. But in the wee small hours of the night, I feel like I will end up with a teenager that needs to be rocked back to sleep several times a night. He certainly feels as heavy as a teenager sometimes. And a minute can take a VERY LONG TIME when you're staring into the darkness wishing you were in the comfort of your own bed.

Can someone please remind me that this will pass? I could really use that right now.

An Affair to Remember

I'm really having a hard time putting it into words, it all comes out a-jumble. A senseless smattering of sounds that is infused with a multitude of emotions, but makes no sense to anyone else but me. I simply can't get enough of him. My eyes light up when I see him. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't do anything but watch him. His smile makes my heart soar, and I can do nothing but echo his grin, beaming from ear to ear. I want to do everything he does. My legs won't move the way I want them to, and I flail about in despair. I resign myself to sitting, and staring. When he comes near, I reach out with both hands and cup his face indelicately. I want more. A shirt collar or a lock of hair eludes my grasp, as the will-o-the-wisp floats just beyond my reach once again. If only he knew how much I long to be with him, to share every single moment - every smile, every laugh, every joke - perhaps he would be less inclined to leave me behind. Perhaps if he understood how much I admire his love of life, he would sit still long enough for me to catch him. As it is, I will have to satisfy myself with moments. Waiting for the day that my legs will finally obey me and we can run together wherever the wind takes us.

Let it be soon, brother.

Fringe Après Kids

When buying a house, the Husband and I decided that we wanted to stay in Toronto, rather than moving out to the 'burbs. A lot of factors went into that decision, the most obvious being that we work downtown, and didn't want a long commute. Beyond that, we both do theatre, and the majority of the gigs - the good ones, that is - are in the city. But we also knew that we wanted to raise our (eventual) kids with easy access to all the arts and culture the metropolis has to offer. We didn't want every trip to the museum or the theatre to be a Major Outing.

Ha, ha. Enter two kids and EVERY trip is a Major Outing. Heck, just getting out the door sometimes is difficult enough. So imagine my surprise and delight when a bright shiny flyer fell into my lap as I was perusing The Little Paper one day.

Keep reading..

Robustious Periwig-Pated Fellow

For Wordless Wednesday *

*brownie points for the person who can identify the origin of the title

It's gonna be legen...wait for it...dary.

Last night we had our first "official" rehearsal. Well, technically, it wasn't a rehearsal at all - just a meet and greet and a read-thru of the play. I think that the director was concerned that since rehearsals don't actually start for FIVE MONTHS, that everyone would go their separate ways and forget about the fact that they'd been cast in a show. It is a good idea to get everyone excited about the project, so that they don't find something else "better" to do. (I'm all about "quotations" these days, even when they're not really necessary...).

They were going to schedule it for 7pm. I was like, uh, NO, I have an 8mth old baby who won't take a bottle and that is exactly the time that he wants to go to bed. In fact, "bedtime" (those damned quotations again) usually is a drawn out process that lasts until 8:30pm. They told me to bring him, but, yeah.....NO. I don't want a screaming baby at the rehearsal, and I doubt that anyone else did either. So they agreed to move the rehearsal to 8pm. Good! I thought. So, when I roll in at 8:15pm, I won't be too late. THEN they had the BRILLIANT (apparently, I'm liking CAPS too) idea to make everyone else come for 7:30pm, so that we would be ready to go at exactly 8pm. Of course, I was late. The read-thru didn't start till 8:27pm. I know, I looked at the stage manager's notes.

It went pretty well, all told. I think that it's going to be a strong show. Knock on wood. The girl who plays the lead is much better than I thought at the audition. Her only downside that I can see is that she is very real. Normally, that's the best thing that you can be, in my opinion, but on stage you need to compromise a tiny bit of the reality to make it dynamic and interesting. All told, though, it's not a bad fault to have and hopefully one that she can overcome easily. I bet she's awesome on film.

The dad is interesting. GREAT look. At times, I almost thought he looked like Anthony Hopkins, who played his role in the movie. He read the lines rather slower than I would like (I'm sleep deprived, and I really wanted to get home to my bed), but I think it's because he was really trying to invest some meaning in them, even at such a preliminary rehearsal.

The guy who plays Hal was quite good at first impression. I'd like to see what he does with the role to improve it.

As for me, well, I realized just how much of the play that I'm NOT in. Read-thrus are tough for the smaller characters. I have some great scenes, though, that I'm really excited to do. AND, when we start rehearsing for realz, I'll just be back at work with two small kids at home. I think a role that doesn't require me to be at every rehearsal will fit just perfectly into my life, and give me a chance to get my acting chops back up to snuff.

Bring Your Good Times..

Happy Canada Day from Casa Earth!

PROOF I can still be me..

So, I'm over at Playdate today and I have some Big Exciting News!!



(Please keep in mind that my life revolves around TV and chocolate, so my idea of Big and Exciting may not be exactly the same as yours...)



But still -- Go! Read!

Bend it Like the Boy

With the Boy only in daycare part time, I decided to sign him up for an activity. Normally, in the summer months, I say let the park be our playground, but I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of hours we had to fill, and frankly, I thought it was a good idea to have some motivation to get out of the house. The Boy is quite a homebody, and perfectly happy to spend the day playing cars and Lego in our dungeon, um, I mean, basement family room. Me, I like to get out of the house. And it's hard to get out of the house with two small children who nap at different times, and won't nap in the stroller. Really hard. Enter Soccer 101.

Now, I have no illusions that the Boy is going to be a soccer star, or even learn how to play the game properly. As far as I was concerned, if he spent the 45 minutes running around and picking flowers, at least we were out of the house. The first level is for kids 3.5-4.5, and the Boy is just shy of the age group. I decided to chance it because I didn't want to wait till next year, when he would be almost too old for the group. Plus, on Monday mornings, there were only four other kids signed up anyways. Generally, the class has about 25-30 kids. Best choice I made, it seems. He got more personal attention, and I just know that he would have been lost in a large class. Groups tend to overwhelm him, and make my spotlight-hungry child rather shy.

In seven weeks, they had three different teachers on a rotation. Dave, the serious one who plays by the rules. Andrew, the coraller and good motivator. And Rich, the funny guy who got the kids playing soccer by laughing and making jokes. Dave, although absolutely polite and nice, was not a huge fan of the Boy, you could tell. The Boy is young and highly distractible, and requires more work that some of the other kids who follow instruction better. I was not a big fan of Dave, if you can't tell. I would have been over the moon if it was Rich teaching the class each week. He kept the Boy engaged and motivated and laughing. It was the best I've ever seen him. Who did the Boy like? Dave. (Sigh. He gets that from me. I'm always desperate to impress the people who don't like me..)

Despite an initial refusal to get his clothes dirty, and countless "water breaks", the classes went pretty well, and I was surprised at how much the Boy could do. He ran while kicking the ball, put his foot on the ball, learnt jumping jacks (Star! Pencil! Star! Pencil!), and had a pretty good time for a sedentary bloke.

What was most endearing to me was what he couldn't do, though. They played a game where they had to stand with their foot on the ball, and only move when the coach's back was turned. The Boy just ran straight for the finish line. And consequently got sent back to the starting line. At least he's focused. When he was in goal, he made a point of standing with his legs wide open in a bridge so that the ball could pass through easily. He's very generous, my kid is. He constantly took the balls back to the ball bag, even in the middle of the class. They were dirty. He was being helpful.

It's things like this that made the class worth it for me. My kid plays by his own rules, and I love him all the more for it.

This is Your Brain on Motherhood

Can you spot the similarities? How about the differences?

**For those wondering who the weirdo is on the cover of the TV Guide, they're doing an American Idol type thing to find the next Maria for Toronto's upcoming Sound of Music called How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria.

Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Hey, I'm over at Playdate today talking about...what else...myself? (I'm so vain, I probably think this blog is about me).

Well, actually I'm talking about my irrational phobia of people dressed up as mascots or other large costumed characters. I have issues people! Help a girl out. Have a read here.

I also have a particular song stuck in my head and I CAN'T GET RID OF IT. Can you guess what it is??

The Strange Case of Dr Chuckle and Mr Cried

Dear Colleagues,

I feel compelled to write you concerning a most wondrous strange phenomenon. I have, these past 40 months, made the intimate acquaintance of a patient of mine, Dr Chuckle. Dr Chuckle, to all opinion, is a jolly good sort of fellow. What he lacks in stature, he more than makes up for in mirth and compassion. It would not be unheard of for the two of us to while an afternoon playing games and singing songs. I have of late, however, noticed a remarkable change in his demeanor. Come dusk, and the time lay his head upon his pillow and fall into a peaceful and rejuvenating sleep, he morphs into a most undesirable character: Mr Cried. He wails and screams and curses the heavens till I know not what to do. "I HAVE TO PEE!" he cries. And then sits in the water closet but will not relieve himself. "I WANT TO WEAR SOCKS!" he belts. But he will not don a pair, nor will he deign to have someone cover his feet. "I WANT MUMMY!" he bellows. Or, if his mater is present, he calls for his pater. Nothing can be done to assuage him. No answer is correct. I had noted that this dubious change took place at the same time as my estimed colleague, Mr Earth, was called away on dramatic business. I thought the absence of Dr Chuckle's preferred playmate was at fault. However, Mr Earth has since returned from said business, and the antics of Mr Cried have multiplied, not diminished. Come morning, all is as before, and if I confront Dr Chuckle concerning his behaviour, he denies any knowledge of the events. Occasionally, he will issue an insincere apology, with no light of comprehension in his eyes. It is a most distressing transformation in an otherwise utterly congenial patient. I am loathe to allow this behaviour to continue, for fear of joining him on the dark side, reduced to tears and woe myself. Estimed colleagues, be warned. While Dr Chuckle is a most admirable sort, approach him with care should evening fall.

Summer Lovin'

I couldn't wait for Wordless Wednesday, so I'm instituting Mute Mondays For the Impatient. (Oops, I think I just messed up the mute part..)

French Braids

My earliest memories of my grandmother involve a lot of pain. Physical pain. Sitting at our discarded teak dining table in the basement while she french braided my hair. She showed no mercy. My face felt like it was being stretched to it's limit. Tears flowed freely. But the end result was more than worth it. Two perfect french braids on each side of my head. Flawless. And unlikely to come loose. Once done, I would keep them in for at least a couple of days because I loved them so much. And because I needed time to forget the pain to see the beauty.

Somehow along the way, as is the way with little girls, I figured out how to do these braids myself. It took a lot of practice. My arms felt like they might fall off, but I did it. I could never figure out how to do it other people, but I didn't have anyone on which to practice. Doll hair is not the same. My brother's hair wasn't long enough. Not that he would have allowed it. So I just kept braiding my own hair.

It's a delicate art. Separating the hair so that each side has the proper amount. Making sure that the hair is just wet enough, but not too much. The secret to good sturdy braids is either wet hair, or unclean hair. Myself, I go with wet. You have to comb or finger through each piece so that it lies smoothly in the braid. That's the annoying part. It's not hard, it just takes time and patience. I find that much in life can be approach the same way. Slow and steady wins the race. If you speed up, you may end up having to do it all again.

I wore my hair in braids for my very first role in a play, The Wizard of Oz. Sigh. No, I wasn't Dorothy. I read for the part, but I didn't have enough experience and lost out. I was a Farm Girl, Girl from Oz, and Rock Sitter Extraordinaire. Much of my preparation for the show was putting my hair in braids.

My hair was in braids the first time that the eventually-would-be-Mr-Earth gave me a compliment. We were sitting at dance rehearsal for Godspell, and I had worn my hair in braids to keep it off my face. He told me how he loved it when girls wore their hair in braids, but that his current girlfriend couldn't do it because her hair was too short. I wore my hair in braids for many, many rehearsals and somehow convinced the director that my hair NEEDED to be in braids because it was crucial to the character. I also wore them a lot during our courtship for reasons that will remain unspoken...

Now, as a mother, I still wear my hair in braids. Usually on hot, humid days when I know that no other hairstyle will hold up. It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who comment on my hair when I do. Random strangers. "Wow, did you do that yourself?" "Is that hard to do?" To me, they're not something amazing and unusual, but just a natural part of my person. They're never as perfect as I would like them to be. I always see the mistakes that I made. The stray hairs that didn't quite make it into the whole. The fact that I only did them because my hair would not cooperate otherwise.

What IS amazing about them, people don't see. The history. My first play. My love for my husband. And a tiny, fiery woman who was the only person I know who could make them perfect. Painfully perfect. Someday, I'll get there too.

The Childcare Diaries, Pt 1

I realized the other day that somehow, amidst snowstorms and sleepless nights, the Little Guy has grown to a whopping 7 months old. I am over halfway through my mat leave. And I started to get a little panicky. You see, we have no childcare lined up for him when I go back to work in November. The Boy's daycare does prioritize siblings, and we can almost certainly get him in there. However, the daycare starts at 18 months. They can legally accept two 16 month old children, but that's it. If those two spaces are already taken, too bad. So, we have absolutely nothing for at least four - possibly six - months. If I take an unpaid leave from work (which I doubt they would allow anyways), then I can't afford the daycare, which means we lose the Boy's spot. Ack!

You'd think I wouldn't be this stupid...again. We didn't get the Boy on any daycare list till he was three months. I wouldn't do it while he was in utero because I was too superstitious. The first three months of his life were so filled with doctor visits that it simply slipped my mind. By the time we got around to it in March, it was way too late. In this part of town, if you get on a list when you're three months pregnant, you're probably too late. I swore I wouldn't make this mistake with the second baby.

Well, here I am. Me. The planner. The person who generally has eight alternate plans, just in case the first seven plans go awry. And yet, for some reason unbeknownst even to myself, I am choosing to fly by the seat of my pants, hoping that the childcare situation will somehow magically "work out". Smart, right? Uh...no.
So what are my options?

Homecare? A good one can be just as hard to find as daycare, and it means that I have to drop off two kids in two separate locations. I never got to work on time doing only one drop off. With two, I'm pretty much screwed.

Nanny? I have some concerns that I have not yet been able to allay. Case in point - I was sitting in the park the other day watching the Boy's soccer class and playing with the Little Guy in my lap. We were sitting on one side of a picnic bench and three Nannies and their charges were sitting on the other side. They were talking animatedly to each other (not the kids) in a foreign language. They were sharing tupperwares of freshly made food with each other (not the kids). One kid sat in a stroller chomping on a piece of Wonderbread. Finally, the kids decided to devise their own amusement and played some kind of chase game in a small spot in front of my side of the table. They were happily playing and not running off. The nannies took notice and told them that they had to play on the other side of the table where they could see them. Why they simply couldn't turn their heads to watch them, I don't know.

Now I'm not saying that all nannies are like that. I certainly hope not. But I must say that in my neck of the woods I have seen a lot of that kind of thing going on. I'm not saying that the kids are in any kind of danger, or are not loved. I'm just saying that the kind of care being provided is not what I expect for my money. I can ignore my kids at home for free, thankyouverymuch.

So, if we were to go the nanny route - which would definitely make the workaday mornings much easier - we'd have to find someone pretty special. But how do you know what goes on when you're not there? (And no, I'm not the nanny-cam type of person. If I don't trust my nanny, I'd rather find someone else instead of spying. I'm not condeming those who choose this approach, it's just not me.)

A very wise friend had an excellent idea. When searching for a nanny, she put out a very honest and specific add detailing exactly what she was looking for, figuring that if she put off some people, well they weren't the One anyways. And she found the perfect person. I could do that. But what would the ad say? Let's give it a go:

If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in rain,
If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain,

Wait a minute, that can't be right. Nannies shouldn't drink, and they should definitely be prepared for a rain storm. I also hope that they would promote fitness-oriented activities. I sincerely hope that they have a whole brain. To put it frankly, I'm the only one in this scenario who's allowed to have less than a whole brain. No, this is not going to work.

How about this:

Wanted: a nanny for two adorable children.
If you want this choice position
Have a cheery disposition
Rosy cheeks, no warts!
Play games, all sort
You must be kind, you must be witty
Very sweet and fairly pretty
Take them on outings, give them treats
Sing songs, bring sweets
Never be cross or cruel
Never give them castor oil or gruel

Well this is entirely in the wrong direction. Perhaps I should make up my own ad, instead of plagirizing songs. Although Mary Poppins and Maria von Trapp are good examples of the kind of nanny I'm looking for. Well, they could be a bit less cheerful perhaps. I'm old and bitter. But I want that kind of involvement. How could you not with these two faces to look after?



Back to the drawing board, I guess.

Don Music (Or Why I Should Never Be a Contestant on "Don't Forget the Lyrics")

OK, so I haven't posted in a while. Somebody should do a study to determine the extent of the link between how busy you are versus how much you post. In theory, since I AM busy, I would have more to post about, not less. I actually do have lots to say, but am finding it difficult to find the time to say it. It goes in fits and starts. I'm also not getting out to many of your blogs either. My reader says I have 273 new posts in the pot. Yikes-orama! On top of that, when I do read (usually while feeding the Little Guy), I can't comment because the baby gives me the Evil Eye every time I start typing and promptly stops eating in a most nip-crushing way. Have I mentioned he just got two teeth? Ouch.

I did manage to squeeze in my regular Thursday Playdate post. I'm sharing many embarassing moments when I have misheard the lyrics to popular songs. I'm such a knob. In fact, I even made a NEW and STOOPID mistake in the post itself because I'm not embarrassed enough by my geekiness. Don Music ain't got nothing on me. Stop by and have a read. Throw some tomatoes if you like. I won't mind. Red is definitely my colour..