There's sweet...and then there is sweeeeet

Dani came to play today! Actually, Tristan and Simon came to play. We had a fanfuckingtastic time tagging along. It took the boys less than a millisecond to hit it off and run away together. *poof* They were in love and long gone. Boys will be boys...


How adorable was Tristan on my doorstep all geared up head to toe in Thomas the Tank...hat, shirt, shorts, suitcase full of what else, trains. And that not-so-little Simon is a heartbreaker. You know what? He really does say "No way" (not that I never believed it) but to actually hear it over & over is hilariously adorable (I really need another word for adorable). He says it often many times in a row, but not rudely, just as part of conversation

Dani "Simon, please put those down before going down the stairs"

Simon (on each step going down) "no way no way no way no way..."

We chit chatted, had a coffee, baked some muffins, ate them, chatted some more, made lunch...

Then it stopped raining, we played outside, blew bubbles, swingset, monkeys on the monkey bars, sand box, you name it.

Have I mentioned how delicious Simon is? He is truly edible. It took so much of me not to grab him and squish him all day long. Not playing favourites, all the boys were spectacular today, getting along famously well (of course there was the usual tantrum and tears and whining, but so not that bad!). Do you think Simon would marry me?

And then....we went to their hotel to go swimming in the pool. What a hoot getting four VERY rambunctious and excited nekkid boys in their swimming trunks. Just picture typical hotel room, 2 double beds, four preschoolers jacked up on whatever it is that fuels these kids to the MAX jumping and bouncing and running and squealing everywhere the place. Insanity! But truly at its best in the happiest of all preschooler insanities.

We interrupt this program for a very special bulletin (a.k.a. proud mommy moment): My boys can swim! They can really really swim. On their own, in their little glorified doggy paddles, B with his head underwater, or on his back. We still aren't sure how it happened, but somehow my ambitious little B swam past BOTH Dani & myself in mere seconds and there he was, swimming away in the DEEP end, smiling ear to ear about 5 metres (15 feet) away from me. Holy shit! Anyway, it was all good, but I am damn proud and they were both just swimming all around having a ball. My boys can swim! Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

After a glorious 45 minutes in the pool, we get changed and head back to chez moi for supper. Both the Daddies decided to join us, both of them rolling their eyes at us mothers sipping our Coronas. You know, cause we do S.F.A. all day long but paint our nails, lounge and drink.

We had a fun supper, topped off with ice cream cones and then it was time to go. The day went so quickly, too quickly, truly one of my best days ever.

You know that saying, "yadda yadda yadda with a cherry on top"? Here was mine:

Candy Swap 2006 BABY!!!!! Dani brought the goods. The update confession: MIA are two Mojos, 1/8 of the Mack toffee and that longer than a foot long Charleston Chew wrapper is indeed, empty. That may very well be one of my top chocolate treats from now on...delicious. You really should meet Simon, talk about delicious. Oh, but wait, you need to HEAR that little sweetheart say "Dee-LIS-SHUSS!" Yes, he is sweet enough to eat.

Lank you really much

That's how we hear 'thank you' in our house.

Thank you to all my caring friends with all of your overly kind comments. I don't wanna come thru as a whiny spoiled bitch who wants more more more. I just kinda vented. I am not wallowing around in self-pity, in fact we are all doing very very well.

You know what? Life IS beautiful!

The house is in complete disarray and renovation chaos, untidy, messy, and do I do anything about it? Not a chance. We spend the morning at the pool for lessons and funtime Junior Junior Swim Team (how brilliantly adorable is that!) then come home for lunch, play some games, go do some errands, treat ourselves to a feast of yogurt covered raisins, get treated to dinner by my Godparents, etc etc etc.

So, the house is a disaster and I have GUESTS coming tomorrow!!! And I am forcing her to love me anyway, she has no choice. I don't mean to sound too greedy at this point, and apologies to all you 'special' ladies out there (you know who you are) but I am admitting to being so bloody happy to having Dani all to myself for an entire day and then some. BWAH! HA! HA! HURRAY for me me me!!!

Anyway, enough about me (ya, right) and back to you. Again, thank you SO very much for caring. You are the best. Oh, and also thanx for making my site counter go past 10 000 ! Most exciting for me - oops, there I go again, me me me. It must be the LEO coming to my house that is making me do that.

Happy days everyone, cause there really is always at least a little bit of happy in every single day.

The unusual day trip

I was just pregnant! For a day! But now that dream is over. THAT'S what happens to us infertile fuckups who truly believe that the miracle of all miracles is actually happening to ME when Aunt fucking Flo is a mere 46 hours late. It was fun, nice, and I really enjoyed it. I was scripting not only the email to friends announcing the pg, I actually went as far as writing the email announcing the arrival. Girl? Boy? And of course I played my most favouritest game in the world, the Name Game. Holy shit Nancy, get a grip, there was never even a stick peed on or anything, just that constant mind game going on...well, you know, what if???

I know I rant and vent and whine and complain about this too often, you'd think I'd get a grip already. Nope.

I practically cherish those imaginary moments of being pregnant, even though it isn't true. Just that hope, that little glimmer of hope. It isn't the getting knocked up part, but the being pg part. Even though we are so completely full and blessed with two amazing children, it is the selfish side of me that pouts "I was pregant only once." And it was a shitty pregnancy. I want to be part of 'that' crowd again. Of course adding another baby into the mix is the ultimate goal, not simply to be pregnant. I am fully aware of the pure chaos that would happen. Am I prepared? Nope. But if it ever happens? Bring it on.

I'll try to let it go, for now. We have three frosties on ice. The challenge is trying to convince the hubs to feel that same sense of allegiance to those frozen embies that I do. There is that chance, and it is nagging at me something awful. I do believe if we tried it, no matter the result, I could feel a sense of closure and be 110% happy with our family composition. There is just that one very big-ass little word that keeps popping into my head.





If.

Fridge Meme

Done.

Left side:
- favourite comic strip
- letter to editor from me which appeared in Montreal Gazette (see? published! moi!)
- most favourite poem
- pics
- Word Whammer (obviously my guys are brilliant spellers, must be working!)

Right side:
- calendar (my LIFE)
- grocery list memo pad
- margarita recipe I cut out of magazine
- library print out of items due
- pic of me and my boys
- crappy freebie magnets (Doodlebops, CBC Kids from the show and rabbits from cell phone ad)

The only thing you can't see (Thank Gawd) are the finger prints and smudges and dirt.

So there.

Now just inside that right side door is a little package of President's Choice mini-peanut butter cups. Must keep chocolate in fridge. I do believe this bloody PMS is compelling me to go investigate the status of the contents of said package, and do mandatory taste test.

So there.

I have no idea what I am saying "So there".

random findings

Each one unscripted, unsolicited and totally unexpected.

Odds

With the chances of us having another baby nearing about 0.5:bagazillion, why, then oh why, it is SO bloody hard for me to part with 3-6 month old onesies. You know the ones, the favourite super soft ones from Old Navy, and the multi-coloured one from Gymboree (thank you aunty fay!), and don't forget my most favouritest Winnie the Pooh ones from Winners.

We are having a garage sale tomorrow morning (today, actually...we do EVERYTHING at the last minute). We have to much stuff, including (not a miscount) 14 Pampers boxes FULL of clothing from age 0 - 36 months. The father to my two boys says, "If we get lucky enough to have another, we'll just buy new stuff".

I don't wanna buy NEW stuff!!!

My heart implodes at the thought of another potential baby wearing the same clothes and his/her older brothers. Stained and faded, and well, OURS.

Can you tell I want another baby?

I am fully aware that wanting doesn't mean getting, but giving up the want, ends that dream. Oh sure, there are more dreams to reach for, bigger and better, but I want one that barfs and shits all over me and keeps me awake for 6 months. (It would only be 6 months, right?)

I am even MORE than fully aware and experienced that being an infertile, that want/dream is even that so much more farther away (good grammar, eh? gimme a break, it's almost 1 AM).

I want another baby so much it hurts. There was a phone in show on the radio about breastfeeding. I was listening to it, I think I felt my nipples tingle at the memory of sharing such a life altering experience. Then there was the time one of my friends was bf-ing her 12 month old, he was such a good latcher, eater, and they both just seemed oh, so content. I KNOW my breasts were practically leaking that day (this was just 3 weeks ago, and no, I have not breastfed in just over 3 years.)

I did manage to convince the other half to keep one crib, and one infant car seat. What's it gonna take to be able to keep 14 boxes?? This is serious.

And then there are the fitted crib sheets, you know the ones, super soft flannel with the cars, the ducks, and of course, Winnie the Pooh.

*sniff*

Edited after a few hours of attempted sleep: I should replace 'want' with 'would like', but that is just way too much work to re-write the whole thing. I also don't have time, gotta go continue setting up. Just came in to get a box of kleenex for when someone hands over a looney for the blue & white starred 9 month old jammies.

The Itch

So I have this itch. Not so much an itching to do something, just an itch. One of those nasty-ass yeast type itch. I am the former Queen of Yeast, having endured constant itchings on a daily, weekly, monthly basis until I dealt with it. For good.

In 1999 I was finally diagnosed that my recurrent yeast ouchies (among other symptoms) as a result of candida. So, I did as I was told, and followed their very strict diet, religiously. Took some meds for 6 months. Ingested overdose amounts of acidophilus. And, it worked!! It really did. It was so worth it.

Fast forward to 2001/02. I was pregnant and had a couple of mild flare ups. Nothing an OTC remedy couldn't help. That was it. Seriously and OH! so joyfully!

Until now.

I have had a couple of minor itchiness, but more likely some minor coochie-itis and not true bread making assisting ingredients.

But now. NOW. Ay yi yi.

I tried all my usual remedies, no go. Called the doc in tears, Diflucan please! You see, unlike our most fortunate south of the border yeast sufferers, Diflucan only available here by prescription, not OTC. Lemme tell you what it TOPS on my next USA shopping excursion list.

So, she gets me the diflucan - relief!!! And to continue with the OTC (generic brand of course, right Dani? saved me about $5 opting for that instead of fancy-ass brand name.

Wednesday night was a circus, in my bed. The Hubs is overseas, so no, not that kinda circus. It is late. I check on the boys, everyone fine. I get face washed, teeth brushed and all set up for the preparation of and insertion of 'the cream'.

I have a cat.

The cat starts to play with the little plastic dispenser. She is batting that thing all over the place. I am chasing a cat who is chasing my coochie fixing cream plastic dispenser all over my room. It ends up under the bed. Full of dust bunnies. So, I wash it off VERY WELL and prepare again.

Task completed.

I wrap up the used dispenser in about 6 tissues and stuff in night stand drawer to be properly disposed of in morning. The destructions indicate to insert while laying on back and to stay so reposed for a while. How long is a while? Well, in my house on Wednesday night, not very long. Not long enough.

Someone is calling. Is he talking in his sleep? Is it for real? If I get up, all the coochie cream is bound to fall out. That could be messy. And wasteful of one very much needed 'gina treatment. Shit. He is still calling. I do the bestest kegel I have done in my life, hoping to be able to hold it for as long as needed.

I dash, in almost Mr. Bean type fashion walking to investigate. He is fast asleep. False alarm. Shit. Reverse! Reverse! Vag wall muscles quickly losing much needed perma-kegel. Hop into bed. Lay down.

The cat. That fucking cat. I guess I forgot to replace cap on cream. She is playing with the cap. Not that I really care, but it is rather annoying, and now bugging me.

Kegel power #2!!!!

Back in bed.

Phew. Done. Bring it on Mr. Sandman, put me out of my itch misery for a few hours. I don't even care if you have to bring Nick Lachey back (although I'd much rather Colin Firth) just bring it on.

So the itch. WHY did it come back to me with such a vengeance after so many itch free years??? I look at the calendar. Sunday, June 18 - Father's Day (yikes, must make cards with kids!); oh hooray, it is the Sunday School Ice Cream Sundae Social; and whaaaa???? Anniversary!

Seven years.

The Itch.

Happy Anniversary to us.

Problem? What problem?

There are so many whom I care about currently dealing with serious issues such as contentious mother/daughter relationships, sleep issues, teenage daughter angst & pre-teens growing up too fast, and toying with the definition of being a true mommy.

Ann mentioned one of my archived posts and has single handedly upped my daily site stats dramatically - thanx Ann!

The boys have been terrific, actually sleeping in, way in (but won't say how much out loud in fear of Dani showing up at my door with an alarm clock); eating gourmet meals such as veal parmesan, roasted potatoes and asparagus; hubby was home all weekend, we got a ton of stuff accomplished. In fact, even with the questionable weather, we had a great weekend.

So then, what then do I have to whine about?

The start of yet another renovation project today? MESS MESS, quite inconvenienced without the use of my family room for a month, and more MESS?? Hubby leaving tonight for the week on a business trip? Having to prepare a shitload for Saturday's garage sale? Nope, none of that. My biggest wonder is currently why the hell would I dream about Nick Lachey three nights in a row!!!

Candy Swap 2006!!!

Andrea is just to utterly brilliant. A candy swap, even though I tend to be a chip girl, who the hell in their right mind would ever say no to a Candy Swap!!!

Here are my answers to the questionnaire. I hope these help the infamous Dani make it right.

1) When I was a kid, Halloween was all about:

a) collecting as much candy as I could ** see note
b) collecting candy to eat as I go
c) sharing with my siblings
d) Who cares about candy? I was too busy egging my teacher's car.
e) Halloween was forbidden in my house and I've never gotten over it. Bring it on!

**I have matured, ableit slightly, over the past 30 years or so.

2) What is more important to you: quality, or quantity?

Quantity. Bring it on.


3) If you were on a desert island (haha, I wrote "dessert island" but that would be a totally different question now wouldn't it?) and could only have one sweet treat, which would it be?

President's Choice mini peanut butter cups, or Toblerone. I can't choose. You can't make me.


4) You arrive at "Dessert Island" – where you discover a river of pudding flowing freely through a swamp of Cool Whip. No one is watching. What do you do?

Whaddya think? Find resident island native hunk, get nekkid, and well, er, um....


4) Sweet, sour, or savoury?

Yes please.


5) Sex or chocolate?

Yes please.


6) What kind of candy, if any, would you turn down if someone offered?

Anything lemon flavoured. Anything strawberry flavoured. Any combination of those.


7) You're at the grocery store, you're children/husband/pets have been The.Worst.Ever. They're throwing cans at each other, tripping little old ladies, taking bites out of the produce and putting them back in the bins, and piercing the milk bags with diaper pins. You feel yourself getting woozy. That vein in your forehead is throbbing. You need an immediate sugar kick before you do something crazy. What do you reach for?

Oh Henry! (not the insatiable adorable 17 year old horny hot looking bag boy named Henry, although, I'd be lying if I said it'd never been considered) and of course, peanut butter cups.


8) What are your feelings regarding Thrills gum, ribbon candy, scotch mints, and other "grandma candies"?

Thrills - always tasted like soap to me - ick
Ribbon candy - not worth the effort - ick
Scotch mints - my 74 year old father is addicted, need I say more? - ick
BUT my (old?) Aunt always has Werthers....Mmmmmm!!!! (do they count as Granny candies?)


9) How adventurous are you? Do spicy dried mealworms or candy-coated crickets give you the willies, or are you willing to try anything once?

No thank you.


9) Do you have dentures or other dental issues? Do you have a good dental plan?

I'm all good here.


Any other info you want to share, I suggest you spill it. :)

Are Spicy Doritos or Helluva Dip considered candy?
Do we have to wait for 2007 to do this again?

ta-tas and tawurls

Today was a special day, a birthday celebration for my aunt. It called for a mini-road trip 105 minutes west to Ottawa. Hear are some hi-lites:

I chose to wear a skirt. I rarely never wear skirts. It is a flowy cream.blue.yellow one I bought last year for our trip to Barbados. That was pre-blog, and a story I should post one day. The skirt never made it to Barbados. Anyway, I did wear it once last year on a date with my hubby. Today, was the 2nd time being worn. We are mega-late, running around like banshees, I get ready and practically jump in the van while it is in reverse out the driveway. Anyway, long story short, my two little men say the following:

B - Oooh Mummy! I like your, your, your new...clothes. I like your pants.
Me - Thanx sweetheart, it is called a skirt.
B - You look like Cinderella!
Me - (gushing and eating it ALL up) THANK YOU (kiss kiss kiss), that is such a nice thing to say A - No! You look like a girl Mommy! A girl called Cinderella!
Me - (gushing and eating it ALL up) THANK YOU (kiss kiss kiss), that is such a nice thing to say B - does wearing that make you like to do tawurls??

So, I got to be a girl for the day. It is a very comfortable skirt.

The sad sad sad part of it all? What an unfriendly reminder it is feeling your thighs touching. All. The. Time.

The other fun thing? I wore a new shirt! I grabbed it off a sale rack, didn't bother to try it on, loved it and wore it. It has sparkles and glitter and shit and I felt so fun in it!

The sad sad sad part of it all? Seeing the pics and noticing that (a) the shirt is in fact a little small cause your (b) weight gain in your boobs causes those gathers which means your shirt is too tight. Horrifying.

Another interesting part of my day was being sent to the 'back of the bus'. My dad was traveling with us, so it is the husband/father and father/grandfather in the front, the two sons/grandsons in the middle and the wife/mother/daughter in the back bench. It was great! The boys traveled really well (but I won't get into the opposing version on the return journey) and I actually got to read the latest issue of my wish magazine and figured, heck, let's try to play creative and take some pics.

And now for unknown reasons, Blogger won't let me add anymore pics. Erg. Maybe I got in trouble for posting a pic of my ta-tas.

BUT it all doesn't seem to matter to me now, I know I should get on that 'trying to reduce the stress I am putting on my clothes' philosophy (refuse to use that four letter D word that ends in T and a bunch of fewer calories in between) but you know what? My boys called me Cinderella this morning. Need I say more?

Question Pourri

It started with the dinosaur. Then over the next couple of days there were more, many more. I started writing them down. I had answers for all of them.

NONE of these are made up. None. At. All.

Do dinosaurs get mosquito bites?
Does Batman have a bum bum?
How does Sammy go poo, I don't see his bum bum?
Can I pretend to be a girl?
Mommy, do you have a pen!s?
No? How do you go pee?
WHAT? From your bum bum?
What's a front bum?
Why are Daddy's toots so loud?
Mommy, do you have stinky toots like Daddy?
Do you like mine underwear?
See my boobies?
Is 'lighten up' a bad word?
Do you still love me?
Why does that man (pointing and speaking WAY loud at Harley type dude in Old Navy) have a long beard like Santa Claus?
Does Superman go poo?
Who is God?
Can I use my hands? (referring to bowl of rice krispies, in milk)
Why don't I have boobies?

Sigh.