Rev And The Missus

Not Awesome

2012-01-26T11:43:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here waiting to see if Chicken Nugget is actually going to nap or not. I gently laid him in his crib, drowsy but awake as per all the expert's suggestions. Now we wait. And I'm certainly not going to start anything productive until I know he's actually asleep.

So I thought I'd make you a list. A list of things that are Not Awesome. So here it is:

Things That Are Not Awesome:

Finding one of those hairy little spiders that look like teeny tarantulas in the car.

Losing him before you can squish him.

When your 4 year old walks in just as you've put the baby in the crib and loudly asks, "Whatcha doin', Mama?"

The face I make as I shoo him from the room.

Buying pj's for your 4 year-old's pajama day at school, because said 4 year-old only sleeps in his underwear.

Finding Scooby Doo jammies, only to find that the smallest size at Target is two sizes too big.

Buying them anyway.

Paying $17 for jammies that will, in all likelihood, get worn once.

Baby spit up.

Socks.

Baby socks that never fit, but are darn cute anyway.

The fact that as soon as I finish this list and start doing something, Chicken Nugget will wake up.

Kisses,

Little Comedian

2012-01-22T13:35:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you--Wiggle Man has been on fire this week. Just now, I picked him up to give him a kiss, and he informed me, "You smell like oven." (Awesome.)

I asked him what he learned in Sunday School this week. He told me his teacher taught him about clouds and storms, and that Jesus would protect him from "storms, and ghost-es and haunted houses." (You should know at this point his favourite book right now is Scooby Doo and the Haunted House.)

So I said, "That's why we don't need to be afraid of those things, right?"
Wiggles: "Nope. But I don't think Shaggy and Scooby know that."

Me: "Well, someone should tell them."

Wiggles: "Maybe Fred."

Earlier this week, he asked me about breastfeeding. Pointing to my chest, he asked, "Mama, did I sip out of those when I was a baby?"

Me: "Yes, for a couple of weeks, and then you drank bottles."

Wiggles: "Did Chicken Nugget sip out of those?"

Me: "For a couple of days, and then he got bottles, too.

Wiggles: "Oh. Do you make chocolate milk?"

No, Wiggle Man. Mama has enough trouble making regular milk with these things, let alone specialty varieties.

Kisses,

Life With 2 Boys

2012-01-01T13:22:00.000-08:00

I'm slowly adjusting to my new life as mommy to 2 boys. Granted, one of them does a lot of sleeping, and the other has learned to, you know, poop in the potty and stuff, but still. Mama to 2 of the little stinkers.

Most of the time, they manage to make me laugh. So what if that laughter occasionally verges on the maniacal, and I'm telling Wiggle Man that he may have to come visit me in the Asylum.

Wiggles is at that lovely point in life where he knows enough about certain of life's, um, more delicate procedures, but not enough to understand when and where to talk about them. For instance, a hushed furniture store is not the place to happily prance out of the restroom and loudly annouce, "Mama, I just made a GIANT poop!" (Complete with hand gestures approximating size of said poop.)

Wiggle Man is convinced that the Rev's sinus issues have to do with rogue beard hair that has traveled up his Daddy's nose. I'm not sure if he thinks the hair has grown upwards, or if it traveled there post-shave.

Then there are his Wiggle-isms.

"Mama, I want to eat with chomp-sticks, so I can be like Kai-lan." (Thanks, Nick Jr. for your foray into multi-culturalism.)

"Don't leave fer-out me!" (Oh, Wiggles. We'd never leave home ferout you.)

"My day is RUINED!" (He's a bit of a diva, what can I say.)

"Police la-di-da." (Feliz Navidad, judging by the tune.)

His baby brother, whose nickname we are still debating, has his share of humour, as well. Cranky Man, as the Rev seems to think he should be called, causes fits of laughter every time he sticks out his sad, sad little lower lip to cry.

Chicken Nugget, as I like to call him, still has a slightly odd shaped head. I can't remember if that's normal still at 3 months, or due to the torticollis. Regardless, it makes him look a little like a cartoonish evil genius. So when he gets really angry (like, say, his bottle is 2.56 seconds later than he'd prefer) his face gets all red and he shakes with tiny, tiny rage, I keep waiting for him to shout, "Curse you, Perry the Platypus" or something like that.

Anyway, that's my life these days. Diapers, preschool, bottles, stories, and occasionally, to curl up on a chair with Wiggles and a Cranky Chicken Nugget, and have a bit of a nap.

Police La-di-da, and Happy New Year, y'all.

Kisses,

Good News/Bad News

2011-10-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've done one of these posts, but I thought it might be fun to bring it back, so here goes:

The Good News is that Wiggle Man is feeling better after a weekend long cold, and is actually eating normally.
The Bad News is that eating normally right now includes informing me that the mac n' cheese I made him for lunch "tastes disgusting." I then attempted to add some shredded cheese to it for him, but was told that I had "scrunched up" the cheese.

The Good News is that Bam Bam has a new nickname. While he's as strong now as he was in the womb, he's so laid back that Bam Bam doesn't seem to suit him.
The Bad News (for him) is that I've taken to calling him Chicken Nugget. I'm sure he'll love that in about 10 years.

The Good News is that the humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room this morning was not, in fact, a Brown Recluse as I suspected, and that the Rev graciously, and without mocking me, removed it for me.
The Bad News is that there was a honking humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room when I woke him up this morning. UCK. (*Cue extensive shuddering*)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget is perfectly content to sleep through his big brother's temper tantrums.
The Bad News is his big brother's temper tantrums. I am not as adept at blissfully ignoring them.

The Good News is that I can zipper and button my "big" pre-pregnancy jeans, and zipper and almost button (using the good ol' hair elastic trick) my "tiny" pre-pregnancy jeans.
The Bad News is there is a serious case of muffin top in both instances. Also, I'm trying not to get too optimistic, since the first couple of weeks after Wiggle Man was born I was almost back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Then things got very, very scary.
The Good News about that is that my midwife thinks she knows why my body did that, and what we can do to prevent it this time around. Here's hoping.

The Good News is that I love banana bread, and made a pretty awesome healthified version of it last week. Whole wheat flour, applesauce instead of oil--next time I may even throw in some flax seed.
The Bad News is that I cannot imagine banana bread without chocolate chips. And I may have consumed the entire loaf myself over the course of the weekend. There's nothing wrong with banana bread for dinner, right? (Before any cyber-detectives jump on this--yes, I know eating tons of banana bread and popcorn is not likely to prevent the scary weight gain from recurring. I promise, I usually eat very well; my calorie intake is not the cause.)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget slept long enough for me to eat lunch, and type this post.
The Bad News is that I have to now wake a sleeping baby to feed him...and waking a sleeping baby's never good.

Kisses,

He's Here!

2011-09-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

Bam Bam has made his appearance!

On Friday morning, I went for my regular 38 week appointment. At my 37 week appointment, I was 4 cm dilated. Before she checked me on Friday, my midwife wanted to know how I'd feel about stripping my membranes if I was 5 cm dilated. Then she checked me and said, "Uh....how about if you're 7?!?"

Yep, I was walking around town 7 cm dilated.

We decided the best thing was for me to go home, get my things together, pick Wiggle Man up from school and get him settled at his friend's house, then the Rev and I would head to the hospital. Once we were at the hospital, I wanted to see if I could get some stronger contractions going without resorting to pictocin. I had pitocin with Wiggle Man, and that plus having my water broken equaled some sudden, painful contractions.

So this time around, I walked. I walked around and around and around the floor. I sat on a birthing ball. I sat in the jacuzzi tub. I walked more. I sat on the ball more. And after 4 hours I'd made it all the way to 8 cm. I know.

So we started the pitocin. At this point, my water still hadn't broken, but the contractions were picking up.   The Rev made a great labour coach, by the way. He was fabulous, and I couldn't have done it without him.

Eventually, we realized I wasn't getting past 8-9 cm without my water breaking, so the midwife did that. Since I have already scarred friends of mine with a detailed account of that, I will save you the visual. But it would have made a great scene from one of those teen comedy movies, I assure you.

The very next contraction I was ready to push, and about half an hour later, Bam Bam joined our family on "the outside." The put him on my chest while they cleaned him up, and the midwife waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing before she cut it.

I remember when Wiggle Man was born it was hard to feel anything beyond the relief that I had done it; I had actually delivered this baby.   This time was more emotional for me. I think knowing how much love I have for Wiggle Man helped me feel that maternal swell of love for Bam Bam right away. Although, I will admit that some of my first words to Bam Bam were "Thank you for coming out!"

Wiggle Man is so gentle with his little brother, it makes my heart melt. He gives him tiny kisses on his forehead, and strokes his dark hair. When Wiggle Man came to the hospital to meet his baby brother, Bam Bam turned to look at him as if to say, "Oh, I know you."   It was darling. I'm still waiting for the sibling jealousy to kick in. I'm sure it will, but for now I'm loving every second of my two boys. And my big one.

Speaking of Bam Bam, I think he needs a different nickname. While he certainly was strong and active in the womb, his personality so far on the outside is very laid back. At the risk of jinxing everything by saying this, he's a really calm baby. It's a little unnerving.

Kisses,

This Week

2011-09-07T14:07:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm still pregnant.

Which is good, really. Today is the 36 week mark; when I go to my appointment tomorrow I find out if I am allowed off the couch this week, or next week.

Things have been quiet around here, for the most part. I hang out on the couch, I crochet, I read, I check my email more times a day than is good for anyone's sanity, and try and keep Wiggle Man occupied.

We have been super blessed by a church family who is taking wonderful care of us.

Oh, and I try not to eat everything in the house. Like, this afternoon I had a cheese stick, a pudding cup, and some popcorn. And I'm seriously considering a bowl of mashed potatoes covered in cheese. For some reason, the last month of pregnancy for me is always a killer. I do great with my weight until that last month, when I no longer crave fruits and veggies, but carbs, carbs and more carbs.

In other news:

This big guy had his first day of school today:

He was sooooooooo excited to go to school. The Rev and I were sooooooooooo excited to have him go. He's been in need of some routine and some time out of the house. When he came home, we made a craft for each set of grandparents. He's been adamant we need to make them something for Grandparent's day, which according to the Sprout channel is coming up. (Sorry Mom and Dad--I didn't know!) I'd show you a picture of our craft, but I'd spoil the surprise for Grandma and Poppa, and Grammy and Pop Pop when they get their presents.

Plus, Wiggle Man wrote his name on a piece of paper that was actually legible. Whoa.

Kisses,

What a Week!

2011-08-25T17:04:00.000-07:00

Well, this week has certainly been a surprise.

A little background--when I was pregnant with Wiggle Man, he came right on his due date, and I felt very little in terms of contractions. (Lucky, I know.) Basically, from the first contraction I felt until the time Wiggles was born was about 3.5 hours.

So when I started feeling crampy this past Sunday night, I honestly thought it was just something I'd eaten. When it didn't go away, I called the midwife Monday morning. I got an appointment Monday afternoon, and honestly expected to be told it was nothing and sent home.

I wasn't expecting to be sent to the hospital, stabilized and then transferred to a university hospital with a NICU. It was...chaotic, to say the least. Also a little humourous, given that I'd driven myself to the midwife's, then driven myself across the street to the hospital, walked up to the L&D floor, where I was whisked into bed and told not to move. (Ummm...I DROVE HERE.)

The good news is that I'm still pregnant. They were able to stop my contractions and the progression of my labour. They gave me steroid shots to help Bam Bam's lungs should he decide to show up early. Then they monitored baby and me for a couple of days, and sent me home.

Now, we wait to see what Bam Bam has in mind. I've been told to take it easy. Beyond that, we're not sure what will happen when.

I will say this--it's new motivation to get that nursery done! (I'll be supervising, of course.)

Kisses,

Shameless Self Promotion

2011-08-19T11:54:00.000-07:00

Depending on what part of the country you live in, you may be either a) kicking into high gear for school or b) counting down until your kids go back to school/you go back to teaching.

This means that private music teachers like myself start thinking about recruiting new students, and gearing up for another year of lessons, festivals, and recitals. Until recently, most of my attempts at self-promotion have been local. After all, it's hard to take lessons from someone on the other side of the country.

Except when it's easy.

Last year I started a website for my new online studio, Studio 10:10. If you haven't checked it out yet, please do so. If you have, feel free to check it out again, and let me know what you think. While it's primarily set up as a flute studio, I'm considering expanding my online studio to include piano and voice, like I do in my home studio.

How does it work? It's actually very easy. As long as you have an Internet connection and a web cam, you can take lessons from anywhere. I've even given lessons to students on vacation!

I use Skype (a free service, if you're not familiar with it) to set up a video call with a student, and the rest progresses like any other lesson. The sound quality is usually great, although it may be affected by the quality of the student's equipment. In situations like that, there are usually simple remedies, like purchasing a separate microphone, or sometimes even moving the laptop to the other side of the room!

Now, here's a pretty screenshot of my website.

Oooh. Ahhhhh.

The actual address is http://www.cyberflutelessons.com/ and like I said, I'd love for you to check it out and pass along any feedback you might have. If you have friends or colleagues that are looking for music instruction from a qualified teacher without the high pressure atmosphere, please let them know about my studio.

My online music studio is also listed on Thumbtack, a great place to find contractors and other service providers.

Ok, commercial over. Now back to our regularly scheduled content of pregnancy updates, life with a toddler, and my latest attempts at crocheting.

Kisses,

What's Up, Buttercup?

2011-08-11T15:41:00.000-07:00

Not much, actually.

Bam Bam continues to beat the stink out of me from the inside. At this point, I'm starting to believe he will give Wiggle Man a run for his money when it comes to how active he'll be once he's "on the outside." He seems to be doing well, I'm doing well, the midwives are all happy--8 weeks to go!

The only downside right now is that while I don't have Gestational Diabetes (phew) I am "carbohydrate intolerant." Boo. I was with Wiggle Man, too. One of the midwives actually suspects that I remain this way for longer post-partum than most women, and that this was the cause of my ridiculous (and hitherto unexplained) weight gain after Wiggles was born. I was counting calories and dieting post-partum, but not carbs. Ooooooohhhhhh.

Many of the other symptoms of carbohydrate intolerance/insulin resistance are things you might typically expect post-partum, like fatigue, irritability and mood swings. It's like a giant light bulb has gone off. I'm bummed to have to watch my carb intake (I do love bread), but I'm also kind of glad to finally have a possible explanation.

I was super blessed to have two baby showers last week. The first I knew about--the members of our church choir, bell choir and their families got together for a fun cook-out and baby shower. They did a great job of making Wiggle Man an important part of things; he had a ball helping me open gifts.

My friends surprised me with another shower later in the week, and even arranged for some surprise guests! The Rev's sisters, Mom and Aunt drove down for the occasion. This baby is set, let me tell you.

Now all we need to do is get everything ready. The Rev has been working hard painting Wiggle Man's new room. Once we get him moved into his new digs, we can start on the nursery for Bam Bam. I've been sorting toys and clothes (man, we have a lot of 2T and 3T clothes) and trying to do what I can that doesn't involve inhaling lots of paint fumes.

My current crochet project is a blanket for Wiggle Man. He thinks I've done enough hats and booties for his brother, and that it's time for a blanket for him. 2 squares done, 7 more to go--I'll get a photo up when it's done.

And now you're caught up to speed!

Kisses,

Hats!

2011-06-07T07:42:00.000-07:00

I fell in love with this little hat the first time I saw the pattern. It's not exactly practical wear for a newborn, but I think it will make for some cute pictures when Jumping Bean makes his appearance:

The elf hat pattern can be found here. When I made it, Wiggle Man asked what kind of hat it was. I told him it was a baby elf hat. His response? "The baby is gonna be an ELF?" Oops.

Here's a better shot of the pumpkin hat I made from this pattern here:

And here are Jumping Bean's hats together:

I love teeny tiny baby hats. This little one is going to have a well covered head, me thinks. And lest you think Wiggle Man has been left out, he insisted on having a hat made as well. However, you're not likely to see a picture of that here.

Do you know what happens when you let a 3 year old pick out his own yarn at the store? You end up making a hat out of the most hideous orange yarn ever. And assuming you will have some yarn in your basket to add stripes to the hat that will match the hideous orange yarn is a baaaaaad assumption to make.

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

2011-06-06T06:21:00.000-07:00

June! It's June! June means summer, and summer means days at the lake, at the pool, and running through the sprinkler. (Wiggle Man, not me. No one needs to see my pregnant self frolicking through a sprinkler.)

I'm still working on a nickname for Little Bean...these days he's more like a Jumping Bean. He's not so little any more, and he bounces around like crazy. This weekend I forgot to order my new favourite frozen coffee cup o' happiness as decaf; let's just say the whole ride home I was treated to fetal jumping jacks. Me thinks he likey. (Mental note: always stay within the recommended caffeine intake for the day.)

Here are some Wiggle-isms for your reading pleasure.

"I'm STAHVIN'" (Not funny, but if I have to hear it every day, you should have to hear it once.)

"Mama, when I woke up, der were sun fuzzies all over my room. I blowed dem away."

"Dis is gonna take FOWEVAH." (Said anytime I'm asking him to do something cruel and unusual, like go to the potty.)

"Mama, can I play wif EVERYONE?" This is a seemingly innocent question, seeing as "his girls" had just come over to play. Naturally I answered, 'yes.' It did not occur to me that "everyone" would include the 15 month old I was babysitting, who still had an hour and a half to go on his nap. Wiggles and "his girls" were in the room the baby was napping in before I even realised where they were headed.

When asked how he got the giant scrape on his nose: "I went to jump on da pillows, and didn't see da floor der." (Floors can be sneaky like that.)

"Can I play wif da big kids at Youth Gloop?" (Youth Gloop=Youth Group.)

And there's your dose of Wiggle-isms. If this baby is half as hysterical as his big brother is, I'll be ready for my reality t.v. stardom in about 2 years.

Kisses,

Lil' Pumpkin

2011-05-26T17:50:00.000-07:00

Since the newest member of our family is due in October, a pumpkin hat seemed only appropriate. I've been wanting to make this hat for a while since I found the pattern online here at favecrafts.

I found some yarn that was perfect while in Nova Scotia. We were there for my brother's wedding, and visited some places we first went to on our honeymoon, almost 8 years ago now. Lismore Sheep Farm is, well, a sheep farm. But it's also a store where they sell yarn, socks, mittens and knitting and crochet supplies. I found a nice soft orange yarn and a pastel green to make my pumpkin hat, a crochet hook made right there on the farm, and some mittens for Wiggle Man.

(8 years ago I bought a winter hat that I still love to wear.)

Anyway, after discovering I have no idea how to deal with yarn not in a ball (skeins just throw me off), I finally sat down to make my baby's first hat:

The picture is not the greatest, I'll admit. I was too lazy to get my camera, so I used my phone. Camera phone + night shot = less than stellar picture. Oh well.

So there you have it. Baby's first hat. So my next question: what to nickname this little bean? Wiggle Man has been Wiggle Man since the womb, so I'm feeling the pressure to come up with something for this little guy. We have his actual name picked out already (and no, we're not telling yet) but he needs a nickname.

Any suggestions?

Kisses,

Just So's Ya Know....

2011-05-24T10:54:00.001-07:00

It's.......

a...........................

BOY!!!

Randomness

2011-05-20T12:08:00.001-07:00

Yes, it's been awhile. Profound apologies all around. Here's what's new with Rev and The Missus:
I need a nap.

Still preggers. About 20 weeks. It depends on what due date you use. I prefer October 1st, because, well, it's sooner. So then I'm almost 21 weeks. If you go by the fancy-shmancy sonogram adjusted date of October 5th, I'm 20 weeks 2 days.

My box o' awesome maternity clothes is M.I.A. The one with my comfy jeans, shorts, cute tops and dresses--who knows. I have some maternity stuff I got at a consignment sale, which is workable. Except the pants seem to be on a mission to confuse me. I have ones with just the band at the top, but the band is forever flipping down, or worse--the elastic inside the band gets all twisted. And they fall down, because they might just be to small. Except for the pair that's too big.

I have pants with the whole panel of fabric, but the elastic at the top shows through my shirts. And they fall down because they're too big.

I need a nap.

Wiggle Man is 3 and a half. That is all. (If you have one, you know it's a blend of awesome moments and pull-out-your-hair moments. Seriously kid--it's a cheese sandwich I'm "making" you to eat. No need to gag on it.)

The people who make protein powder need to consider that we're not all hulking body builders using this stuff. Some of us are just ladies trying to get in the ridiculous protein amounts that pregnancy requires. Please make the jars easier to open. No, really.

I need a nap.

It takes a lot of movies to get to Canada. Wiggle Man measures road trips in how many movies he gets to watch in the car before we get there. Canada is many, many movies away. However, it's worth the trip to see Grandma and Poppa. Also for Harvey's and Swiss Chalet. Preferably at the same time.

My fake nails have lasted 6 days.

I got a tin whistle. Wiggle Man has taken it already.

Oh, and I need a nap.

Kisses,

The Missus

And Then There Were Four....

2011-03-02T18:52:00.000-08:00

Here's our newest family member, debuting in early October:

Sorry for the less than stellar picture, but it's a picture of a picture, taken with my phone. It'll have to do for now. You get the idea, though. The blob is our new baby. :)

Wiggle Man is convinced, convinced it is a baby sister.

In ever so slightly related news, Wiggle Man and I were watching Harry Connick, Jr. on tv. He started singing The Way You Look Tonight, and Wiggles just stopped what he was doing, and stared at the t.v. for a few seconds. I asked him if he remembered me singing that song to him when he was a baby. He asked, "to stop me from crying?"

When he was a baby, all we could do to calm him was to walk him around the house. Because I bore easily, I would sing to him, and The Way You Look Tonight was my favourite. Whether he truly remembers me singing it or whether the melody just struck him, I'll never know.

But I like to think he remembers.

Kisses,

Destructo

2011-01-27T11:44:00.001-08:00

Wiggle Man was very, very excited about the snow we got yesterday.

Very. Excited.

And he was very, very sad that I wouldn't let him play in it yesterday. (Someone had a double ear infection. And it wasn't me.)

I let him out today, being the kind prison warden that I am. We made snow angels, and this snowman.

Who was promptly knocked over minutes after this picture was taken by Wiggle The Destructo.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have hot chocolate to attend to.

Kisses,

Wiggle-Isms

2011-01-08T07:15:00.001-08:00

Because I should not be the only one to enjoy my son's isms, I share them with you. You're welcome, world.

"I not go to college today, Mom." (Oh, ok.)

"No plolemo!" (His attempt at no problemo...my trilingual child.)

"That's kindy diffwent." (My hair, apparently.)

"Let's hit the road!"

"I have bees in my ears." (Before we discovered he actually had a double ear infection. Sigh.)

"My hiccups are red and spawkwee wif hot dogs on dem!" (I don't have a clue.)

"We having a pawty for BALENTIME'S DAY! Pink cookies wif spwinkles!"

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

2011-01-03T08:51:00.001-08:00

"I'm STO hungry." (I don't know why he puts a 't' in there.)

"I don't WANNA be big. I wanna stay just like dis." (Me too, baby. Me, too.)

"Let's go check in the covered!" (Covered=cupboard. Usually comes after "I'm STO hungry!")

"I love you so much, Mom." (It's not funny, but I do love to hear that one.)

Wiggle Man, pointing to my sweatshirt: "Mom, what does dis say?"
Me: "It says, 'Lake George, NY'. It's a place Mommy and Daddy visited before you were born. I think you'd like it there."
WM: "Do they have cake there?"

"Ta-NA!" (He usually shouts this to announce his presence when he runs into the room naked.)

Man, I love this kid.

Kisses,

Christmas Chaos

2010-12-20T19:01:00.000-08:00

Is your house as chaotic as mine right now?

Do you find yourself anxiously crunching on mini-wheats while you think you about all you still have to wrap/clean/bake/fold before you go to bed?

Have you attempted two more batches of sea salted caramels after your first perfect batch only to have them both fail miserably? No, that one's just me?

Are you whispering through clenched teeth to your son that he can not be Thomas the Tank Engine in the Christmas play and that he needs to just put on his Wise Man costume NOW!

Are you overwhelmed by the cookies that abound?

I'm really hoping that this week will be calmer. I think I have everything just about done, and can enjoy the season. Live nativities and time with friends await.

However, in the midst of chaos, I've found that animated robots amuse me. So here you go:

I Tried Again

2010-12-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

What Happens When You Stay Up Late Playing On The Computer

2010-12-14T21:01:00.000-08:00

Randomness

2010-12-02T13:57:00.000-08:00

Because I know you were sitting around today hoping for random facts about me.

Admit it.

Wait, you weren't? Oh. My bad.

Annnnyyyywayyyy....

*The last minute of the William Tell Overture makes me feel like I'm late for math. 12 years after graduating high school. There's some social conditioning for you. (Some hilarious soul thought it would be a great idea to play the last minute of the good ol' WTO over the PA system as warning "get yourself to class before you're late" music.)

*My feet are cold. But sockless. Which is contributing to the problem.

*I like the house at 72 degrees. The Rev does not. Guess who wins? (Not me.)

*There is apparently a whole other British tune to "O Little Town Of Bethlehem." I feel like this is something I should have learned growing up, and now will have to research.

*I cried through all of The Shred day 14. Level Two is kicking my tail. I'm so very afraid of Level Three.

*I put up the Christmas lights outside all by myself. With my sister-in-law. The point is, I did it sans Rev. And now he needs to fix them, because apparently only three strands of lights go on each outlet, and I have four. And two blown fuses to prove it.

*I went to Target yesterday. I want to find a reason to go again today.

*I still can't use the afghan involved in the centipede incident. I'm afraid he still lives there.

*I have successfully avoided cleaning the bathrooms for 3 days now.

*I couldn't finish singing a song in choir practice last night when my friend pointed out that "Feel the holy peace" sounds a lot like "Feel the holy peas" when we sing it. Know the French Peas from Veggie Tales? Yeah...that's what I kept picturing. I could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. My apologies to our choir director.

*I have a pretend puppy. Really it's just Wiggle Man "puhtendin'" to be a puppy.

*I love how he says puhtendin'.

*I have no idea what's for dinner, but since The Rev is at a meeting and won't be home, I'm sure it will be something microwavable.

These are the things of life these days.

Kisses,

The Missus

Lately

2010-11-15T08:30:00.000-08:00

We had lunch on a train.

We watched the train "chug."

Then The Rev and I spent a few days on our own little retreat. We were blessed to spend time at a monastery. We read, did a puzzle, drank a lot of tea, and just relaxed. It was wonderful.

Kisses,

Bad Blogger

2010-11-12T14:40:00.001-08:00

I'd flog myself for my extreme negligence of this blog, but....meh. I don't think it would make any of you feel any better, and it certainly wouldn't make me feel any better about all this. So, let's just pretend it hasn't been over a month since my last post, and just get on with things, shall we?

Like this:

No, that's not a stringy speck of dirt on my otherwise spotless (ahem) kitchen floor. That, my friends, is a centipede. Another one. Inside my house.

Also, he was the slowest centipede ever. I'm guessing all of the other centipedes used to laugh and call him names (like "stupid"). They probably wouldn't let poor Centy join in all the centipede games (like Monopoly!).

Because he was as slow as molasses.

Which was a good thing for me, because it took me a couple of minutes to figure out what to kill him with. My original choice of one of Wiggle Man's buckets (his "drum set") didn't work. The little slow poke huddled up against the wall, and I couldn't get him. I did, as you can tell, stop to take a picture of him.

When he ran into my pantry, that was the last straw. People, you do not mess with The Missus' pantry. That's where the snacks are.

Seriously.

It was time to bust out the Rev's shoe, and end this once and for all.

So I did.

The End.

Kisses,

Chop, Chop

2010-10-06T09:19:00.000-07:00

I did it. I chopped my hair.

Ok, I didn't actually chop it. The lovely stylists at the local Walmarts took care of that for me. But I made the decision to have it chopped.

I've never had short hair before...not this short. A bob's about as short as I've ever done.

Here's the curly version:

I think the Rev is secretly happy that since I've chopped my hair, I'll wear it curly more often. (It's much easier to manage short.)

Also, forgive the picture quality, but these were quick shots taken with the webcam.

Here's the straight version, with Wiggle Man in on the action. He's such a diva; if he knows a picture is being taken, he must be in it.

Also, I feel you should know that as I type this, he is boogey-ing (is that a word? How do you spell it?) to Black Eyed Peas' "I Gotta Feeling." The Backyardigans sing it and now, so does Wiggle Man. Oh yeah.

The Very Belated Birthday Post

2010-09-27T05:27:00.000-07:00

I know. I promised pictures from Wiggle Man's birthday party. Which was over two weeks ago. I humbly beg your most merciful forgiveness, and offer up these. There were lots more pictures, but they tended to feature prominently other people's children, or other personal details.

Here's the Wiggle's Wonder Pets cake, complete with modelling chocolate beads around the edge. Those were a hit with the kids; I think they liked them better than the actual cake. You should have seen their faces when I told them they could eat them!

Here's Wiggle Man casually lounging at the kids' table outside. If I could put a little cartoon bubble from his mouth here, he might be saying, "How YOU doin'?"

After a long day of cake and presents and hot dogs and moon bouncing (thanks for some awesome friends for lending us that!), Wiggle Man was pooped.

Kisses,

From The Mouths Of Babes

2010-09-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

We've had a small incident here in our household. Nothing major, mind you. But enough to warrant a trip to the ER this afternoon.

No, not for Wiggle Man. For the Rev.

It seems there was a hole on the golf course yesterday where no hole should be, and the Rev found it with his foot. His ankle is now hugely swollen, words like "avulsion" were thrown around, and I'm trying not to picture what it looks like for ligaments to tear away from bone.

Anyway.

While explaining to Wiggle Man that we were taking Daddy to the hospital this afternoon, he got very excited. He exclaimed, "Daddy have TWO BABIES?"

Um, no.

You see, Wiggle Man's only experience with hospitals is visiting a friend in the hospital when she had her baby, and seeing pictures of me in the hospital when he was born. You see why he made the connection. Hospital=baby. Why two babies, I have no idea, except that another friend is expecting twins.

However, please do not take that as an omen, or prophecy in any way, shape or form.

Just puttin' that out there.

Kisses,

Dorothy, Dorothy and Max

2010-09-14T16:49:00.000-07:00

No, Dorothy, Dorothy, Max is not some new version of Duck, Duck, Goose. (But that would change things up a bit, wouldn't it?)

Today is my little man's THIRD BIRTHDAY. Three. The boy is three. He's started pre-school, and HE'S THREE.

Ok, enough shouting. You get the point.

But still. Three.

Well, every time this now-three-year-old goes to the Walmarts, he has to, has to look at the fishies. He luuuuurrrves the fishies. He likes to look at all of the fishies, and find the ones that look the most like Dorothy (of Elmo's World fame, for those of you not living with a pre-schooler.)

Well today, for his birthday, Wiggle Man got to go to the Walmarts, and pick out his very own fishies (while Mommy picked out all the stuff that goes with owning fishies.) I present to you the end result of that trip, plus an hour at home while I tried to get it all put together.

The two goldfish are the Dorothies, and the Black Moor is Max.

I'll post a longer update about his party in a day or so when I have a minute.

Kisses,

Today

2010-09-09T07:52:00.001-07:00

Today is decidedly better than yesterday. At least, so far today is better than the scary crazy parts of yesterday. You know, the corroding water heater and the child who lived in time-out and all of that.

I'm happy to report that thanks to the kindness of friends, my child took a bath the night before his first day of school. Also thanks to the help of these same friends, our shiny new water heater is installed. This means I got a shower the night before Wiggle Man's first day of pre-school. Because Mommies need to be clean and shiny the first day of school, too. I mean, I even did my make-up to drop the boy off.

As we speak (as I type?), Wiggle Man is at school, most likely happily playing with trucks if how I left him is any indication. I, on the other hand, got teary-eyed just looking at his little bin where he'll put his papers and letters home. Goodness me.

Now, since I know you all want photographic proof that Wiggle Man really is big enough for school, here you go:

A thousand apologies for the indoor shot; blame it on a Mommy to distracted by her baby growing up to change the settings on her camera. So I tried to cover it by making it look a little artsy. Because that's just how I roll.

Kisses,

Half Mulligan

2010-09-08T15:34:00.001-07:00

I was going to write a post about how I wanted a do-over for today. But then I mentally reviewed the day and realised that most of the afternoon was fabulous. Wiggle Man and I met friends for lunch, and the kids played while grown ups had actual conversation.

The rest of the day, however, was less than fabulous.

Wiggle Man has been feisty today. Feisty is the nice way of phrasing it. The child has spent a lot of time in time-out. Mommy has spent a lot of time praying for patience.

I was getting ready to leave for lunch, and thought to myself, "Pants. Pants are probably a dress code requirement at Chik fil-A. Or shorts. Definitely something on my bottom half."

So I went into the laundry room to get shorts to match my clean tank tops. Upon entering the laundry room, my next thought was, "That's odd. My feet normally don't feel wet when I come in here." This caused me to look down and see the water all over the floor.

Awesome.

So I called The Rev, because well, he's a guy. Aren't guys supposed to handle this stuff? The Rev sometimes overestimates my skill in anything involving repair, and started giving me directions to turn off the hot water heater. Or something. I heard levers and breakers and valves....and then I interrupted him and begged him to just come home.

Wiggle Man ended up in time-out again. I can't remember why. It could have been because he thought dropping a pancake on my computer was "a great idea" (his new catch phrase), or it could have been any number of other things--they all start running together in my brain after a day like today.

We eventually made it to lunch, where bliss ensued for about three hours. (The cow at Chik fil-A is becoming very familiar with my son.)

Eventually, though, I had to come home. The insanity continued for the rest of the day. More time-outs over uneaten dinners, potty training "accidents" and the hot water heater? You guessed it--broken. Did I mention Wiggle Man starts pre-school tomorrow?

Sigh.

With that, I'll leave you. We're off to borrow a bath, and maybe another cup of sanity.

Kisses,

PS--thank heaven for spell-check. I spelled "feisty" as fiesty. FIESTA-Y. Definitely not an apt description for our day.

Ponderings

2010-09-05T17:28:00.000-07:00

Things I'm wondering about:

Why one of my neighbours needed to start the car at 7 am this morning, blare the radio, then sit in the car--engine and radio roaring--for about 5 minutes before actually pulling out of the driveway. It was 60 degrees this morning. Not 30. Your car doesn't need to warm up. And if I can hear your radio all the way from my bedroom, it's probably too loud.

Why I love chocolate, and I love Oreos, but the new fudge dipped Oreos are not blowing my mind. They should, in theory. But they don't. The new pretzel M&Ms are genius, however.

How in the world Wiggle Man got to be (almost) 3 years old. I'm pretty sure it was just last month The Rev and I were celebrating that we'd survived parenthood for 3 months. (I'm not kidding. When Wiggle Man turned 3 months old, The Rev and I left the baby in the care of loving relatives, headed out to a romantic bed and breakfast, and promptly fell asleep for 3 hours. )

How has it already been a year since we moved down here? Friday was our move-a-versary. It's been a very good year. Southern living has been good to us.

Where did the summer go? And why is it supposed to be back in the 80s next week? The Canadian in me feels very strongly that Labour Day Weekend means cool nights and breezy days. I guess I'm not totally adjusted to southern living yet. Although I do appreciate the sweet tea. And the cobbler. And my mountains. And...well...a lot of things.

And with that, it's time for my (almost) 3 year old to put his curly little head down for the night.

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

2010-09-01T05:21:00.000-07:00

Just a few of the hilarious things Wiggle has said recently:

Wiggle Man: When I grow up, I play saxophone/drive fire truck/play drums/play dulcimer/play soccer/play for Toronto Blue Jays? (Um, totally yes to that last one.)

WM: Ouchie, Mommy, ouchie.
Me: Oh, baby. Does your head still hurt? (He had bumped it pretty hard the night before.)
WM: Yes. I broke me, Mommy. I broke me.

(Upon seeing me first thing this morning, having washed my hair last night and slept on it while wet:)

WM: What's this, Mommy? (Touching my hair.)
Me: That's Mommy's hair when it's curly.
WM: Curly?????
Me: Yes, curly. Mommy hasn't fixed her hair yet.
WM: Your hair broken, Mommy?
Me. Yes. Yes, it's broken.
WM: You fix it? (Grabs a curl.) Boing, boing, boing, boing...

WM: I hungry. I want a snack.
Me: You're hungry?
WM: Yes. I has a snack-ache.

This is why I spend much of the day laughing.

Kisses,

Happy Brithday!

2010-08-27T17:26:00.000-07:00

Today is the Rev's birthday. I wont' tell you how old he is, just know he's older than me. Heh.

I tried my hand at homemade spaghetti sauce. It turned out ok, if Wiggle Man's second helping is any indication. The meatballs I made to go with it were pretty yummy, too.

I also tried a great recipe I found online for a birthday cake for the Rev. It turned out not so ok. Apparently the pan, which I thought was deep enough, was nowhere near deep enough. Cake batter adorned the inside of my oven. On the bright side, I finally cleaned my oven.

Wiggle Man was adamant that we needed party hats for Daddy's birthday. Since we didn't have paper big enough for the cone-shaped hats he had in mind, we made party crowns, instead.

Don't we look lovely?

Purple

2010-08-16T18:54:00.000-07:00

I have no pictures to prove it, but I survived a weekend with 8 teenagers. Give or take 8 thousand other people.

We spent the weekend with a group of teens from church at a crazy, loud weekend-long rock concert.

I have no eardrums left. I got a combined 12 hours of sleep the whole weekend. (That equals not nearly enough, in case you were wondering.)

I ate a ridiculous amount of junk food.

On the plus side, I got to indulge in one of my favourite things: fried oreos. I haven't had fried oreos since the last time I braved the music festival. Imagine: oreos, dipped in funnel cake batter, then deep fried. It's heavenly, trust me.

I also got a cute scarf. Oh, and I got to spend the weekend with 8 great kids. You know, and that.

I'm gonna leave with a shout-out to ztf.

Peace,

Still Here

2010-08-05T06:15:00.000-07:00

Still here, I am. Enjoying summer, I am. Talking like Yoda, I am.

Ok, typing like that is creeping me out. So I'll stop.

But seriously, summer's been good to us. There's playing, and spending time with friends, and having company, and all sorts of wonderful fun things.

I also thought I'd try something different. So, I cut and highlighted my own hair. Because I'm crazy like that. I did a little research online, picked out a colour at the drugstore, turned on the t.v. for Wiggle Man, and went to town.

And here's the result:

The highlights aren't super visible in the picture--I went with red, so the absence of most of my blonde highlights is more noticeable than anything else.

Other than that, since I blogged last I've had a birthday (complete with cake and presents!) and an anniversary, which was celebrated by a fabulously yummy dinner. The memory of that fabulously yummy dinner was in no way ruined by the fact that I woke up in the middle of the night with my tummy all a rumble. It was so worth it.

So there you have it--you're all caught up!

Kisses,

Scenes From My Day

2010-07-23T14:21:00.001-07:00

Wiggle Man woke up shrieking at 6:45. AM. (I know, I know--some of you suffer from actual early risers, but in our household, this is early. We're night owls.) This is the second morning in a row; I suspect one of our neighbours is leaving early for work, and Wiggle Man hears the truck leaving, but I can't be sure. (Imagine my dramatic sigh here.)

I managed 20 minutes on the elliptical before I gave in and stopped, for fear of fainting in the cardio room at the Y.

Feeling better, we headed to the library. If you were there, you would have heard a crazed woman scream-whispering the following:

"Wiggle Man! WIGGLE MAN! (Insert child's full name here.) Get OFF the stool. No, put that book back on the shelf. No, no, no, no, NOOOOO! Do you want to leave right now?" Etc.

I decided a mother-son bonding time was needed. We baked cookies. Butter, shortening and sugar in the mixer. ("Mommy, need more sugar." "No, son, we certainly don't. At least, you don't. Mommy actually may need more sugar. Or chocolate. Or wine.") Imagine my surprise to find that my eggs had actually frozen. They were sitting towards the back of the fridge, and apparently, it's cold back there.

Off to the "Food Line" (evidence of Wiggle Man's developing southern drawl?) for eggs.

Me chasing Wiggles around the store. The phrase "Watch where you're going!" was repeated frequently, followed by, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Then I tried to lie down on the couch. Wiggle Man decided I made a perfect trampoline. Headache ensues.

Now? Dinner's on the stove, and the little cherub is passed out on the chair, fast asleep.

Sweet, sweet silence.

Kisses,

My Hair, Yo

2010-07-15T09:59:00.000-07:00

"Where does Wiggle Man get his curly hair?"

I got this question at church last month by more than one person. It threw me for a loop the first time. And then I realised: unless someone ran into me at Food Lion before my hair was done for the day, or if I was having a lazy hair day, most people at church had no idea I had curly hair. It's always nice and straight for Sunday morning service.

So, I decided to go curly for church. This brought different questions. Questions like, "Why in the world don't you leave your hair curly all the time?"

Well, it's simply more practical to straighten my hair. I know that seems weird, so I took some pictures as proof.

Here's me, with my hair all nice and curly:

Here's me, after Wiggle Man has gotten ahold of my hair to play with it, or wrestle with me, or climb up my back, or basically in any way comes in contact with my hair:

And that picture doesn't do the frizz factor justice.

Here's a picture of me with my hair freshly straightened:

And here's me again, after a run-in with Wiggle Man:

See what I mean?

This is why I straighten my hair, friends. At least, that's one reason. Also, I like it better straight, it doesn't feel weird around my face when it's straight, and you can see my highlights better.

The End.

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

2010-07-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

This morning, as we were getting ready to head out to the Y:

The Missus: "Wiggle Man, should we wash the car today?"
Wiggle Man: "No way! That's CRAZY." (Someone is afraid of those drive through car washes.)

At the Starbucks in Target, for our post-Y treat:

WM: "Please can I have coffee drink?"
TM: "No, Wiggles, you need to be bigger before you can have coffee."
Wiggle Man stretches himself to his full height, shows me his "muscles" then says:
WM: "Me big boy now? Coffee drink?"

Ummm...no. Not quite, child. :)

Kisses,

PS--Shameless self-promotion alert--don't forget to check out www.cyberflutelessons.com!

Proof of My Awesomeness

2010-07-02T09:39:00.000-07:00

So this first picture isn't so much proof of my awesomeness, besides the awesomeness of my family. This is the first family picture that I really like enough to consider framing. Also, you can see how much Wiggle Man needs a hair cut.

Ok, here's where we get to the awesomeness:

Gorgeous views, aren't they? So worth making it to the top.

Yeah, so I look a little ~~sweaty~~ glisten-y, and maybe a little winded, but c'mon. It was my first hike.

Here's me and my sister-in-law, celebrating our awesomeness. It's an odd angle, because, well, we're on top of a rock. Which doesn't exactly provide for level ground for picture taking. So I'm squashing my vanity, and posting it anyway, because you can see how awesome we are, up on that rock.

So there you have it. Proof of my mad hiking skillz and all that.

Don't forget to check out http://www.cyberflutelessons.com/ if you haven't already, and feel free to, you know, tell all your friends and stuff. And if you want to tell random strangers, that's ok, too.

Kisses,

It's Up!

2010-06-29T18:43:00.000-07:00

Did you miss me?

I missed you. No, really. I did. But I've also been enjoying the lake, and hiking up mountains (~~proof~~ pictures to come when I get them) mountains, people, and just generally loving this summer weather.

But, there have been other things ruminating around in my head, and I'm so pleased to tell you about my newest endeavour:

www.cyberflutelessons.com

It's exactly what it says--I've started a website to advertise for online flute lessons! They will be done via webcam, likely using Skype. I'm pretty pumped about the website, so please go check it out, even if you're not interested in lessons. But, if you would like flute lessons, or know someone who would, by all means, contact me!

I have some other dreams for expanding Studio 10:10 (my site), but for now, I'm just thrilled to have it up and running.

I'm a newbie in the webmastering world, so if you have any tips, or see any mistakes, please let me know!

Kisses,

Beach Bums

2010-06-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

I have beach hair.

Not in an attractive, fashion magazine kinda way, though, where it's all tousled but still fab looking. Mine's more like an I-just-made-sandcastles-with-a-toddler-and-I'm-tired-hungry-and-sandy sort of beach hair look.

I wonder if Cosmo would be interested.

One of these days I'll get some video of Wiggle Man singing for you. He's moved out of the monotone phase he was in, and has actual pitches now. Not that they're correct always, but hey, he's modulating his voice. As a ~~musician~~ mommy, I was worried there for a while. Phew.

He rocks some Twinkle, Twinkle, by the way.

Ok, that's it. I need more snacks.

Kisses,

Summertime....

2010-06-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

And the livin' is eeeeaasssssyyyyy. (That works better if you sing along in your head.)

Here's how we've been enjoying summertime here:

Rockin' out to a little Barenaked Ladies. I love the Ladies. This was my Mother's Day present from the Rev, and I must admit to having screamed and sang the whole night. Sunday morning I was still a little squeaky. There's nothing like an outdoor concert with your favourite band to kick off the summer.

I've also been running. I'm trying to alternate being 2 and 3 miles, 6 days a week. This week, though, I've been adding in some time on the stationary bike at the Y. I'm in need of new running shoes, which is making running less comfy. I always put off buying new runners until my feet are in agony. Here's hoping I don't do that this time.

Wiggle Man spent the first of what will likely be many days at the lake. We learned that it's funny to smear muddy sand all over Mommy's legs. Wiggle Man laughs hysterically, and Mommy gets some nice exfoliating action on her rough knees. So it's a win/win, really.

And then there's my newest love: Dark Chocolate Almond Butter. Or Spread. Or something. It's almond butter with dark chocolate. A college roommate got me hooked on almond butter years ago (something about the fat being better for you...I don't know, really. But it's yummy.)

Well, the other day I discovered MaraNatha's Dark Chocolate Almond Spread. (I just looked it up. So it's definitely a "Spread.") Well, it was like an angelic choir sang as I honed in on the jar on the shelf. It's my yummy treat for the week, and because it's got protein, it keeps me full longer. And it's got less fat and calories than peanut butter...another win/win for me.

So that's been life here in my valley. What's new with you?

Kisses,

PS--MaraNatha did not ask me to write this, nor are they compensating me in any way.

Sleepy Bunny

2010-06-05T14:00:00.000-07:00

Look who I found curled up behind the recliner in the living room. We were waiting for the Rev to come home from a meeting, but Wiggle Man couldn't hold out any longer.

Oh, and please ignore the cord in the background. Someone (**ahem, the toddler, ahem**) thinks it's great fun to unplug the charger for the cordless phones.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I see he's done it again.

Kisses,

Sweet Moments

2010-06-03T10:38:00.000-07:00

This last week has been a bit of a bear. Wiggle Man has been sick with what seems like croup. Now, understand my only previous experience with croup comes from watching Anne Of Green Gables, the scene where Anne saves the life of Diana's sister, who's suffering a particularly nasty bout of croup.

The Missus was not happy. The Missus was freaked out. The Missus has spent the last two nights sleeping in the spare room with Wiggle Man in case he needed Mommy in the middle of the night. Now The Missus is exhausted, people.

So, when a much needed Mommy/Wiggle hug turned into an extended cuddle on the couch, and Wiggle Man said he wanted to go to sleep, I was all over that. Back to the spare room we marched, pillows and Wonder Pets in hand (Wiggle Man's new friends). After several minutes of me reminding him to put his yawning little head down and go to sleep, I could feel the frustration starting to build.

That's when Wiggle Man reached over, stroked my arm, then leaned in and kissed my shoulder.

And that is the sweetest moment: the first time Wiggle Man spontaneously kissed his mama.

Kisses,

Deep Thoughts

2010-06-02T10:48:00.000-07:00

Or not. Rather, just some things I've been thinking about.

Children's television programming: Vacillates between awesome and downright frightening. Seriously people: Yo Gabba Gabba is weird. I don't like it. On the other hand, Wonder Pets cracks me up, and Wiggle Man likes it, too.

(Wiggle Man has been under the weather this week, so we've watched a lot of t.v. A lot.)

My hair: it's curly. Curly is a pain in the you-know-where. Curly gets in my face, and when Wiggle Man is done playing with is, I resemble nothing so much as a Brillo pad. Perhaps one day I'll show you pictures. This is why I straighten it. I like it that way. I know people pay good money to have curly hair. But conversely, people pay good money to straighten their hair, to go blonde, to go red, to go brunette, to cut it, to add extensions...you name it, people do it.

My bathroom scale (and my waistline, by association): you make no sense. It's not fair that you play nice one week, and not so nice the week after. I mean, if running 13 miles in a week and being moderately careful with my diet gets me a two pound weight loss, it seems only fair that if the following week I run 15 miles and use the nautilus machines and am even more careful with my diet, that I should lose at least the same two pounds. Gaining a pound that week is just cruel. I'm just sayin'.

Febreeze: Thanks for making the Downy scent. Now we need to work on a support group for people who fanatically spray it on everything in the house.

Memorial Day: Thanks for coming. Now I can freely wear the white pants and shoes I've been wearing for a month and a half now.

Denim Diapers: WHY? "I poo in blue." Seriously, friends. This sounds like something I would make up as a joke after eating wayyyyy too many M&Ms.

Caramels: I'm glad I bought you today. Regardless of what I said to the scale earlier, I have some room in my calorie allotment for you today.

Kisses,

Assimilating

2010-05-26T17:39:00.000-07:00

I know I've been a little, um, sparse with the blogging lately.

I'm here, I'm just...slowing down a bit--online, in real life; maybe I'm not back on pace yet after our "stay-cation."

Or maybe, just maybe, I'm getting on board with the slower pace of life down here. I'm really, really, loving this whole southern living thing. Don't get me wrong--I'm still Canadian, through and through. If you prick me, I shall bleed Tim Horton's, hockey pucks and snowflakes.

But lazy summer days drinking icy sweet tea? Yes, please.

Neighbours helping neighbours? Oh yes.

Saying thank you with a freshly baked cobbler? Life's good.

Friends bearing freshly picked strawberries? Sweet.

Baby kittens, new baby smell, evening walks and pink lemonade. This is the stuff of life in my valley.

Kisses,

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In The Living Room

2010-05-24T07:25:00.001-07:00

There I was, minding my own business, sitting on our recliner. Something caused me to look up, and when I did....

duh duh....

duh duh....

duh duh....

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKK!!!!!!

That, friends, is the centipede. You know, the one that kept me from sitting on my living room couch for over a week? The one that crawled up my arm?????? Seriously. Just picture that guy on your bare arm, and see how you feel about it.

Thankfully, the Rev was home this morning. He bravely grabbed my mop, and slayed the ~~dragon~~ centipede for me.

He's so brave. He also insisted I take a picture of the spot, so you could all see he killed it.

My hero.

Kisses,

Miss Me?

2010-05-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

The Rev, The Wiggles and I were on a stay-cation this past week. The Rev got caught up on some much needed sleep and down time. He also stripped the deck, because apparently nothing says vay-cay like stripping a deck.

Wiggle Man likes vacation because we go "places" (pronounced "play-cees") on vacation, and sometimes get to sleep in a hotel. I love hotels--he gets that from me.

I didn't take many pictures (well, not by my definition of "many", anyway) but here's a sampling:

We pulled off to the side of the road to take this highly important snapshot:

We finally made it to the Natural Bridge. Wiggle Man may have been more interested in the zoo (he's still asking to go back), but he thought these train tracks in the sky were cool:

Plus, it helped that we told him the bridge was like a train tunnel (incidentally, we told him the same thing about the caverns.)

Of course, Wiggle Man rarely goes anywhere without a train on hand:

We also spent some time driving around, taking pictures of just what we've come to expect in the valley:

Seriously. How could you not love living here?

It's like a post card. Or a bottle of salad dressing.

Kisses,

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

Flowers in glass jars.

Seedlings planted in Sunday School.

Construction paper cards.

The card that Wiggle Man dictated to his Sunday School teacher:

"Delicious" seems to be one of his new favourite words. It's quite enjoyable to hear him exclaim, "Delicious!" while eating his ice cream.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there--especially mine and the Rev's. We love you guys!

Kisses,

Beauty Is Pain

2010-05-06T12:52:00.000-07:00

Today, I did this:

It hurt. A lot. That, friends, is the tube of nail glue attached to my finger. Impressive, no? I've been using these fake nails for a while now, and this is the first time I've managed to do that.

I also did this:

That (and this was the best picture I could get, sorry) is an easy-tab glued to my counter. I don't even understand how this happened. I can only tell you it happened sometime during the extriction of the glue tube from my finger. It's sitting in a puddle of remover.

All of that to do this:

The Claw!!!!!!!

And this:

Pay no attention to the gratuitous tub toys. Wiggle Man got to take a bath in the "big water" last night.

Kisses,

Why I Should Keep My Mouth Shut

2010-05-06T06:40:00.000-07:00

You know that silly pound and a half I mentioned yesterday? The one that was gone this week, and I was so proud?

Well, apparently it heard me say it's name, thought I needed it or something, and came right back.

Niiiiiiice.

Good News/Bad News

2010-05-05T13:37:00.000-07:00

Wednesday. If you read here a lot, you know the drill. Here's my glass-half-empty/glass-half-full look at life. If you'd like to join in (and please do--Camilla would love the company, I'm sure), then just write your very own GN/BN post, link back to me in it, then add your name over here. And while you're at it, check out Camilla's blog--she's strong, she's funny, she's Australian, and just all-around amazing.

So.....

The Good News? I'm already down another 1.5 pounds this week.
The Bad News? I had to add a mile to my daily run to accomplish that.
The Good News? I was only running a mile a day as it was. Two miles isn't so bad, actually.

The Good News? M&Ms come in PRETZEL FORM.
The Bad News? I'm forced to eat them.
The Good News? If I don't buy them, I can't eat them.
The Bad News? I'm forced to buy them. A magnetic field draws my hand toward them, makes me pick them up, and forces me to purchase them.
The Good News? They're seriously yummy.

The Good News? Wiggle Man is doing better than I thought he would with his potty training.
The Bad News? This forces us to keep "reward M&Ms" in the house. (See above.)

The Good News? I decided to catch caterpillars this week to let Wiggles watch them metamorph. Or whatever that verb would be. (Thanks, DH!)
The (more) Good News? I knew enough to transfer some of the caterpillars to a second jar.
The Bad News? I didn't do it in time.
The Good News? I learned something new and unexpected about caterpillars.
The Bad News? The new and unexpected thing is that caterpillars eat other caterpillars. Unless there's some other explanation for all of the caterpillars being gone except for two rather plump, satisfied looking caterpillars.

Well, with that, I'm off. The Good News there is that I'll probably go for a run. The Bad News is I'll probably look for a reason not to.

Kisses,

Insects

2010-05-04T06:56:00.000-07:00

I'm not fond of them.

You know how I feel about Black Widows, Brown Recluses and of course, the centipedes. (Update--while the offending centipede has not been sighted since his foray up my arm, I must assume he has left the building, or perished somewhere. Perhaps a Brown Recluse ate him. Or a rattlesnake. At any rate, I have resumed sitting on/lying on my couch. I still will not use a blanket, in case the centipede is actually hiding there.)

Having spent far too long reading websites about Brown Recluse Spiders--their bite wounds, hunting habits, etc, I'm pretty vigilant about checking the sheets before I get into bed, and not leaving piles of clothes on the floor.

Feeling rather smart, if there is, say, a pair of shorts that I have worn but aren't actually dirty enough to wash (I'm not the only one that does this, right?) I'll put them on a shelf in my closet.

(Aside: I love my closet. It's not huge, but it's my first walk-in. One day I'm going to install fancy organizers, and then I'll feel just like a princess. Really.)

So, this morning I reach up to grab my brown shorts, which are safely stowed away, up out of the reach of spiders.

Or so I thought.

I noticed something jump off my brown shorts, onto the white shorts (which were up there for the same purpose.) Convincing myself it was just a piece of brown lint, I peeked up again. There, on my white shorts, was a BROWN JUMPY SPIDER!!!!!! (I don't know that they're called. You know the ones, though? Small, brown, like to jump all over the place?)

ARRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!

There is no hiding from spiders. This is something I must overcome. And overcome I did. I calmly grabbed toilet paper and smooshed the little sucker. I didn't even get my usual chills and uncontrollable need to shriek. But I did throw his little Brown Jumpy Spider corpse in the toilet and flush. Just in case he wasn't dead. No way was I risking that thing jumping out of the trash can.

Kisses,

Good News/Bad News

2010-04-28T10:12:00.000-07:00

Wednesday. Some people love it. Some dread it. Some are ambivalent. However you look at it: half-empty, half-full; half-way through the week or days away from the weekend--you can't avoid Wednesday. It shows up every week. It's that glass-half-empty/glass-half-full mentality that I take to Good News/Bad News. If you want to join me, write your own post, link back to me, and then come add yourself to the Linky at the bottom.

The Good News? We have begun potty training Wiggle Man.
The Bad News? See above.
The Good News? He's actually getting the hang of it...at least his, um....Number Ones.
The Bad News? We've yet to conquer Number Two.

The Good News? I had a fab girls night out the other night.
The Bad News? I consumed way too many calories.
The Good News? I laughed many of them off.
The Bad News? I discovered the best ice cream/gelato joint there is. This is only bad for my waistline. It's good, very good, in every other way.

The Good News? I love baking soda. It's my magic cleaner.
The Bad News? I'm going to need a new box after all this potty training this week. (Baking soda is great for absorbing accidents on carpets, etc.)
The Good News? Baking soda is a crazy cheap cleaner.

The Good News? It's almost May.
The Bad News? I actually had to break down and put the heat back on today.

The Good News? Wiggle Man is developing a love for baseball, just like The Rev and me.
The Bad News? The Phillies are on the west coast, so Wiggle Man has been missing a lot of games.
More Bad News? The Rev and I are not getting to bed at anywhere near a decent hour.
Even More Bad News? The Phillies are playing like a team that has forgotten what sport it's supposed to be playing.
The Good News? I'd rather them slump in April than in September.

The Good News? I get to watch Glee this afternoon. Oh, naptime, thou art precious.
The Bad News? Uh....nope. Nothin'.

Kisses,

The Universe

2010-04-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's conspiring against me. (Still no Special K Fruit Crisps. But that's not what this is about.)

Ever have one of those days? You're so on top of your game. If you're a mom, you are Super Mom. You rock.

Yeeeaaah...that was yesterday. I was fab, let me tell you. Wiggle Man has been a handful this week, but I maintained calm. I firmly, but calmly disciplined him consistently each and every time it was called for.

And I thought to myself, "Hey, self. You've got this. You could so handle another one."

PS--never, ever think that. The moment you do, your toddler and the rest of the universe will set out to prove you wrong.

(PPS--we're not preggers, or anything. I was just feeling like I could handle another one. Just putting that out there so no one gets unduly excited.)

So, case in point: today. Today I woke up, and like every other day, really needed to pee. (This is important. It's a theme.) Our master bath was, um....occupado, so I padded out to use the other bathroom. I saw Wiggle Man cuddled on the chair, and a surge of motherly affection filled my soul. I went to give him a kiss, and saw the massive puddle of pee underneath him. (See? The theme.)

So before I could even pee myself, (that is, use the toilet myself, not actually pee myself, but you get the point) I was cleaning up pee.

After Wiggles and I were clean and dressed, we headed out to run some errands. This was the point that he started making his requests: "Ball store! Ball store! Ball store! Animee crackers? Ball store! Box milkie! Box milkie! Juice Box Milkie!" And on and on. And on.

The car, too, joined in the fun. "Oil change required! BEEEEEP! Oil change required! BEEEEEP! Check charging system! BEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEEP!" And on and on and on.

Through it all, I was ok. I calmly answered Wiggle Man's questions, and remained silent if he repeated a question over and over and over. We got to the store, and I had to pee. (The theme.) "Pancakes? Mama! Pancakes! Me run? Me run in store? Me run?" I was starting to wear thin, but thought, "If I can just make it to the bathroom, I'll be ok."

You may have seen where this was going, but the bathrooms were closed. Renovations. Of course.

I made the fastest possible trip through the store, all the while fielding questions from Small One with Many Questions. "Me treat? Me get red treat? Me Cheerios? Me treat? Toys? Toys, Mama?" And on and on and on.

The whining and begging continued all the way to the car, and out of the parking lot. At this point, I decided we were cutting our outing short, and making a stop to talk to the Rev. Someone needed a talking to from Daddy. And it certainly wasn't me.

The entire way back, I heard, "No Mama! No talk Dada! Mama! Talk Dada! See Dada? NOOOO! No see Dada!" and "Oil change required! BEEEEEEEEP! Check charging system! BEEEEEP! BEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"

A yellow light loomed ahead. While initially I thought I could make it, I changed my mind and decided to stop. Apparently too quickly, since my 64 oz jug of Crystal Light went flying out of the seat and onto the floor. Where it burst, and leaked everywhere.

Oh, and I still had to pee.

We finally made it to the church for the talking to, with one teensy problem. The Rev wasn't there. And I still had to pee.

"Mama! See Dada! Want see Dada! MAMA!" (Insert shrieking and screaming and crying. Mainly by Wiggle Man.)

I went to pull out of the church parking lot to head for home, where I could finally pee, and clean up the ever leaking ice tea now on the floor. This is the point at which every car in our small town came down the road at the same time, keeping me trapped in the parking lot with a full bladder, a soaked carpet, and a screaming toddler.

When I finally was able to pull out, I found myself behind a truck going 10 under the limit.

Eventually, I made it home. Wiggle Man was sent to his room. The car mats were hosed down. I got to pee. The Rev came home, talked to Wiggle Man, and took my car in to be checked. (Oh, how I love that man.) Wiggle Man gave me a hug, said he was sorry, and our day continued on in relative peace and harmony.

So, the morals of this story? 1) Just when you think you're on top of things, it only takes pee to throw you off, and 2) The next time you're driving down the road and see a harried mother behind the wheel of an SUV banging the steering wheel in frustration, spare a smile and a prayer. She may just feel the weight of the world pressing down on her teeny tiny bladder.

Kisses,

Good News/Bad News

2010-04-21T13:31:00.001-07:00

**EDITED: Camilla pointed out that MckLinky was missing. It seems I was too busy toasting Mr. Scale to remember MckLinky. He's there now, so if you'd like to join the fun, write your own GN/BN post, link to me in your post, then come back over here and add yourself to MckLinky!**

Once again, Wednesday is upon us. It seems to happen every week, doesn't it? I mean, the whole Wednesday thing. Without fail, it pops up right in the middle of Tuesday and Thursday. Do you look at the week as half-way to the next weekend, or days away from your last weekend? (Frankly, our weekend here was such a blur of activity, I'm actively pining for this upcoming one.)

So, with that, here's a look at my week, through my Good News/Bad News lens:

Good News: Through the magic of DVR, I can watch Glee, even when I'm out Tuesday nights, as I often am.
Bad News: The last minute or so was cut off last night.
Good New: Hulu will save the day. Eventually.

Good News: Our concerts are done. The Rev had two concerts, as did I these past few days, so now we can relax for a bit.
Bad News: Our concerts are done--no more orchestra for me until they decide they need me again.

Good News: My fake nails are all still present and accounted for, even four days later.
Bad News: I find it harder to type with them.
Good News: Wiggle Man called them "stickers" the other night, which was hysterical.
Bad News: He wanted me to take them off. Also, he thinks they're brown. No, dearest, that's a french manicure. Very unbrown. More like pink and white.

Good News: I'm still drinking an ocean of Crystal Light daily.
Bad News: I pee. A lot. Still.
Good News: The, um...intestinal issues my mother-in-law warned me may ensue from that much artificial sweetener have yet to plague me.
Bad News: I live in dread of said issues. Not enough to actually drink that much plain water, but dread nonetheless.

Good News: I'm down 7 pounds in the past month or so since I weighed myself after a 2+ year avoidance of Mr. Scale.
Bad News: Umm, I think not. I'm pretty psyched to think I'm starting to get a handle on how my body handles calories, sodium and sugar. I'm lifting a jug of Crystal Light to you, Mr. Scale. Please keep being my friend.

Love,

Conspiracy Theory

2010-04-20T10:11:00.001-07:00

I think George** might be at the bottom of this.

You see, once upon a time, yours truly worked in an office. We were a small, tight knit group, and fond of practical jokes. Well, when I noticed one of my co-workers made a daily trek to the candy stash to purchase a Butterfinger, an idea began to form in my twisted little brain. I enlisted the help of a friend, who kindly hid all the Butterfingers. Every day, just after George returned, disappointed, and sans Butterfinger, I would go downstairs and purchase one from the friend who had them hidden for me, and sit at my desk and proceed to eat my Butterfinger right in front of George.

This went on for longer than you might imagine.

Fast forward to now.

Commercials work on me. It's the running joke in our family. So when I saw a commercial for the new Special K Fruit Crisps, I was all "Yeeeeeeahhhh, I'm gettin' me some of those." And so, the next time I was out, I looked for them. No luck.

Not at Target. Not at Walmart. Not at any of the grocery stores.

So I thought, "Ok, they're obviously going like hot cakes. I must be shopping right before they get re-stocked every week." Or, "Oh, they were on sale this week. No wonder I can't find them." I looked for them different days of the week. Different times of day. Every time I'm in a store, I look for these Fruit Crisps.

And every. single. time. I'm met with a big empty space on the shelf where, according to the price tag underneath said blank spot the darn things should be. It's driving me nuts!

What I want to know is how George found me, and how he convinced every shop owner around to hide all the Fruit Crisps.

Payback. It's a...well, it's a not-so-nice thing.

**Name changed to protect the innocent

Promises, Promises

2010-04-19T12:15:00.000-07:00

I know. I promised a hilarious story. I even had the post typed and scheduled to publish. But...I deleted it. It wasn't my hilarious story to tell. The hilarity ensued as a direct result of my own insecurity, but I wasn't the one looking silly at the end.

So, I thought and thought. And thought some more.

I remembered times when my insecurity caused rifts in relationships.

Times when my insecurity caused me to second guess my own ability to make decisions as a mother.

Times when my insecurity kept me from asking for help when I clearly needed it.

My insecurity made me try Nair on my arms the day of my best friend's wedding. And while my arms were nice and hairless for all the pictures, they were also slightly red and blotchy.

I wore plaid overalls in high school, in some odd attempt to fit in...who knows where.

I've said silly things, worn silly things, watched silly things...all because I was too afraid to be myself.

It's not the silly story I promised. But that's ok--I've got tons of silly stories to share.

Insecurity

2010-04-16T05:17:00.001-07:00

Here it is. The deep (well, deepish) post I promised you. Get comfy.

I've been reading a book by Beth Moore called So Long, Insecurity. Now, if you know me in real life, and know me as a musician, that might seem weird to you. I mean, I play flute--we're the divas of the orchestra world. However, if you've known me for a long time--long enough, say, to remember my terribly awkward pre-teen and teen years--this will seem just about right. (And about time, maybe?)

Yup. I deal with insecurity all the time. It looks a little different on me now than it used to, but it's still there. But not for long. (Mwah ha ha ha....) But before I get to that, let me own my insecurity for what it was, and what it is now.

When I was a kid, I was, shall we say, oversensitive. Which, I can see now, was a result of my own insecurity. Even the kindest, well-intentioned critique could send me to tears. I thought it meant I wasn't good enough. I was terrified my friends would find better friends. I lived in horror of being made fun of.

Then I got to high school. Somewhere in there, my wavy hair became full-on curly. Only no one told me. So I kept brushing my hair out as normal. And it got bigger. And fluffier. It was bad, people. So there's me: frizzy hair, the inability to apply make-up properly, and oh--I thought I was fat. (I wasn't, but try convincing a teenager of that.)

I was so nervous talking to boys. My insecurity in this area had some sad consequences (I came off as a boy-hater) and occasionally, some hilarious consequences. (That's for another post. It can be your reward for making it all the way through this one.)

I spent an inordinate amount of time comparing myself to other girls. Was I pretty enough? Talented enough? Even in my youth group, I worried I wasn't even spiritual enough.

This isn't to say that there were people in my life who were necessarily making me feel this way. Perhaps in some areas you could trace my feelings back to a specific person or event, but more often it was my own imaginings and oversensitivity.

Eventually, I made it to college. It was like a fresh start for me--no one knew me, I didn't have to be that shy frizzhead anymore. I'd figured out how to do my hair. I was a little more talkative. On the outside, it probably looked like I was shedding many insecurities. In some ways, perhaps I was. And then. Oh then. Senior year.

Senior year had some serious challenges, but some pretty cool things happened, too. I lost about 30 pounds. I learned to straighten my hair. I still remember the first time I walked into a crowded room with my new, silky straight hair. It was our homecoming concert, and I walked into the hall to warm up with the rest of the wind ensemble. Heads actually turned. This had never happened to me. Ever. (Or ever since, incidentally!) That's a pretty powerful feeling.

No longer were boys telling me I was "special" but not someone they wanted to date. Suddenly, they were interested. And I loved it. I was outgoing, talkative, and seemingly confident. And in lots of ways, I really was. But I hadn't licked the whole insecurity thing. Not for good.

When I met the Rev, I felt like the most special woman in the world. He had (and still does have) a way of making me feel that way. Wiggle Man, too. There is nothing like hearing Wiggles should "Mama!" from across the room, and see him come charging over to bear hug me. You'd think that would be enough to make any woman feel secure.

And, of course, it goes a long way. But insecurity is a deep down problem for me. Being skinny masked it for a while. But when the weight came back, so did the pit in my stomach that I wasn't good enough. Smart enough. Pretty enough. Talented enough. (Funny how for me, all those things can be tied to a number on the scale, or on a tag on my jeans.)

I'm not saying there was anything wrong with me being skinny--I was healthier (physically), and that was good. What I'm saying is it hid my deeper emotional (and yes, spiritual) problem for awhile. The problem was tying up all my worth as a woman, and as a daughter of God in my external appearance.

Looking back, I can see insecurity plaguing me even when I seemed to have it all. I could blame it on being a musician--after all, we're bred to compare ourselves to others. But I found myself then, as I find myself now, comparing myself to others. If I don't like my shoes, I realise I'm checking out everyone's shoes to see how I rank. I shake my head at the silliness of it all, even as I type this.

That brings me to now. Slowly but surely, I'm getting back in shape. Inside and out. I'm hoping that as my outside gets smaller, my inside gets bigger this time. (In a good way, not the crazed egomaniac kind of way.) That I remember who I am in Christ, and allow Him to give me my security instead of basing it on my circumstances. For me, this is a process, a lesson learned and learning, and a lifelong journey.

Good News/Bad News

2010-04-14T13:28:00.001-07:00

Well, it's Wednesday again, so it must be time for some Good News/Bad News. If you want to join me, simply write your own GN/BN post, link back here to me in it, then come and add your name to MckLinky.

So....

The Good News? I'm getting better with spiders.
The Bad News? The fact that they're potentially poisonous forces me to calm down when one is near.
The Good News? Me being calm.
The Bad News? It's not always spiders. This afternoon it was a HUMONGOUS CENTIPEDE.
**Edited to add***
More Bad News? When the Rev came home and I asked him to hunt down and kill said humongous centipede, this was his response: "Oh yeah. I saw that thing the other day." WHAT????????

The Good News? My front garden is complete.
The Bad News? That leaves me no excuse to not tackle the weed-infested back garden.
The Good News? The giant bush by my bedroom window is, in fact, a WHITE LILAC! Woot!

The Good News? Wiggle Man talks more every day.
The Bad News? We're now regaled with phrases like, "I make fart," and "No, Mama! No change bum!"
The Good News? My kid is freakin' hysterical.

The Good News? It's concert weekend for the Rev and I--symphony for me, choral society for him.
The Bad News? It's all in one crazy weekend.
The Good News? The Rev has a solo in the Michael Jackson tribute piece, and I cannot wait to see him sing. Oh, and dance. Did I mention dance? (Mwah ha ha.)

The Good News? I heard a car door slam, and need the Rev to come home and hunt the centipede.
The Bad News? It was my neighbour. Think she'd come over and help?

Ok, folks, that's my life for now. I may be bustin' out a more serious, deep post in the next few days, so check back soon. It's percolating in my head, but it's just a matter of getting it down on ~~paper~~ screen.

The Spider Wars

2010-04-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

Steph asked a good question--are we able to play outside? Now, either she's terribly jealous of our amazing weather here in the valley, or she was wondering about what I've come to call The Spider Wars.

If you read my last post, you know I was a little shocked to find out about the whole black widow/brown recluse spider issue. When I posted about my neighbour's find (the honkin' black widow in her sandbox) on my facebook, many of my new valley friends and neighbours replied that they'd had similar experiences. This was, in fact, normal.

I was, and continue to be, a little freaked.

But, I'm powering forward. I'm being brave. But watchful.

To that end, I spend a considerable amount of time checking out brown recluse spiders (since I've now seen a black widow in real life.) Do me (and yourselves) a favour: DON'T google images of brown recluse bites. It's nasty. You can't unsee that.

But, at least now I know what the little suckers look like.

Knowledge is power, and all that. So, I was able to pretty positively identify the huge brown beasty spider that came running out from under my bag of mulch the other day as a brown recluse. Awesome.

The end result of all this is that I refuse to hide out in my house, since the darn things often find their way in, anyway. I will simply do what every other southern woman seems to do. I'll pull myself together, touch up the mascara, and declare, "With RAID as my witness, I'll never fear spiders again."

(I'm channeling my inner Scarlet, here, folks. While I'll never claim to be a true southern woman, I like to adopt some of their finer qualities. Think Steel Magnolias, and biscuits.)

Good News/Bad News

2010-04-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

It's still technically Wednesday. I have 66 minutes left. Just enough time to share my GN/BN for the week:

The Good News? I realised it was Wednesday in time to post this.
The Bad News? I haven't blogged since...oops.

The Good News? We just got MLB Extra Innings.
The Bad News? That's a LOT of baseball to watch.
The Good News? That's a LOT of baseball to watch.

The Good News? My front garden is almost ready.
The Bad News? The back yard is a weed jungle.
The Good News? That's not my fault--we didn't live here last spring. At least, that's my mantra.

The Good News? Wiggle Man got more candy than he can eat from The Easter Bunny, The Easter Egg Hunt, and his loving relatives.
The Bad News? I'm helping him eat it.
The Good News? Uh...see above.
The Bad News? He didn't get any Cream Eggs.

The Good News? We keep finding more and more wonderful things about living in this valley.
The Bad News? Black widow spiders also love living in this valley. Specifically, in our neighbour's sand box.
The Good News? Everyone says that we shouldn't worry about the Black Widows.
The Bad News? Because the Brown Recluse are the ones you really have to watch out for.
More Bad News? Rattlesnakes.

Well, there you go. With 57 minutes to spare. If you want to join in this week, just write your own GN/BN post, link back to me in your post, then come add your blog to MckLinky. Camilla's been writing some great posts for the last couple of weeks--check her out!

Good News/Bad News

2010-03-31T11:51:00.000-07:00

Again, this morning, it struck me that it's Wednesday. Whoa. So again--we have two ways to look at it: It's Wednesday! Woo hoo! We're halfway there! Or, it's Wednesday. Really? Still only halfway to the weekend.

In other news:

The Good News? I left early last night to head out to orchestra rehearsal.
The Bad News? I had to wait for a train, and then was constantly stuck behind drivers going under the speed limit.
The Good News? I still made it to rehearsal on time.
The Bad News? Slow Driver Syndrome continued through this morning. Tip From The Missus: if you're on your cell phone and are driving, going 25 MPH BELOW THE SPEED LIMIT is only going to draw attention to your distracted driving. Also? My honk was to try and get your attention. It didn't work.

The Good News? I'm much more relaxed now. I promise.
The Bad News? I should be cleaning, not relaxing.

The Good News? I've been really good about eating healthy this week.
The Bad News? My scale hates me.

The Good News? My house is relatively clean.
The Bad News? My sister-in-law is coming tomorrow...must clean more.

The Good News? I'm wearing shorts!
The Bad News? Warm weather means, um...better leg grooming.

With that, I'm off. Cleaning, and catching up on American Idol. That's my afternoon. Want to share your Good News/Bad News from this week? Write your own GN/BN post, link back here in it, then c'mon over and add your blog to MckLinky!

Houseguests

2010-03-29T17:50:00.000-07:00

Spring has sprung. I can't wait to see what will pop up in my garden, as this is the first spring we've been here. What colour will these tulips be? It's like Christmas, only without the cold.

We have houseguests. No, not Auntie La La, although she'll be down later this week. Does this guy look familiar?

I'm not sure if he's the same Mr. Robin that Wiggle Man tried to build a house for the other day. This guy was in our front yard, not the back. But somehow, the robins got the idea that they were welcome at out house.

Construction workers look a little different in the animal kingdom, it seems:

This is what greeted me this morning when Wiggle Man and I returned home from a cheese purchasing trip. My first response was laughter, then the need to grab the camera so I could share it with you. When the Rev came home later, his response was...slightly different. I'm not sure, but I think Casa Del Robin is no more.

Peekaboo!

2010-03-27T11:26:00.000-07:00

See this bird?

Ok, so nature photography is not my thing. Let's blame it on my lack of cool lenses, ok? Let's.

Anyway, Wiggle Man saw this bird, and decided to build him a birdhouse.

Good thing we had leftover wood hanging around from his playset.

But it's hard to build a birdhouse without nails. And a hammer. Luckily for Mr. Robin, Wiggle Man is innovative. He just used Mommy's arm.

Sturdy looking, isn't it? For some reason, though, the bird would not come live in it. Even when Wiggle Man asked nicely.

Like a tree is somehow a better house than lumber piled up on my yarn. Sheesh. There's no please some people...er....birds.

(No, the bird is not in that tree. It's just a symbol.)

Friday Flashback

2010-03-26T13:37:00.000-07:00

Last year, Wiggle Man decided that egg holders were for sissies. So he just used his hands.

Nothing like showing up to church Easter Sunday morning with brownish, purplish hands. Wonder how he'll do this year....

Good News/Bad News

2010-03-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure I believe it myself, but it really is Wednesday. The Good News is that we're halfway to the weekend. The Bad News, as always, is that we're only halfway there.

Seriously, though--Wednesday. When did that happen.

Anyhooooo.

The Good News? A gorgeous, sunshiney morning in my part of the world.
The Bad News? A dreary afternoon.
The Good News? Wiggle Man played outside this morning, and is napping away the afternoon.

The Good News? I have laminate flooring in my front entryway.
The Bad News? That is where Wiggle Man chose to throw up this morning. (And then come to get me, telling me he had "made a mess" from his "mouf.")
The Good News? It wasn't on the living room carpet.

The Good News? I've been fairly consistent when it comes to drinking the recommended amount of water daily.
The Bad News? I pee. A lot.

The Good News? I'm sitting here typing this out for all you lovelies to read over the interwebs.
The Bad News? I really should be doing laundry. Or cleaning my bathroom.

The Good News? After last week's lovely pep talk at the doctor's, I've been monitoring my calories more closely than before (cough, cough), and am down two whole pounds this past week.
The Bad News? I seriously want a cheeseburger. And fries. And some ice cream. And to finish that bag of caramels that is taunting me in my pantry.

Now, see? Wasn't that fun? Doesn't it make you want to just join in? Lucky you, you can! Just write out your very own GN/BN post, link to me in your post, then come back here and add yourself to MckLinky.

Yes, Cheese

2010-03-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

This evening, a war ensued in Wiggle Man's bedroom. Mommy Versus the Bookshelf.

Wiggle Man owns approximately 4, 500, 324 books. And, while I love his love for reading, I hate the messy bookshelf. So, there I was, slamming books on the shelf, and getting more and more frustrated.

Wiggle Man came walking in, singing: "Yes, Cheese....yes, cheese..."

It's how he sings "Jesus Loves Me." And it was exactly what I needed to hear.

At Home With The Rev

2010-03-20T18:31:00.000-07:00

Because I know you're refreshing my blog rather than watching basketball, desperate to know what we've been up to, I'll oblige your curiosity.

Today we loaded up the SUV and headed off to a sugar festival over an hour away. Wiggle Man and I both get car sick. Wiggle Man took medicine before we left. I did not. Wiggle Man slept in the car. I did not. Wiggle Man was subsequently very cranky when he woke up.

Incidentally, should you be out and about and see a very frustrated mother trying to corral a screaming toddler out of the roadway while holding a purse, two drinks and a lunch bag, don't look at her funny if she raises her voice at said toddler. It's more fear that the child will run out into the road than anything else. Cut her some slack.

But I digress.

We did not stay long at the festival. Basically, we drove over an hour for hot dogs. The all-you-can-eat pancake line was far longer than we were willing to stand in with a cranky Wiggle Man. Wiggles was asking to go back to the car from the moment we left it. We did not get maple syrup, though the Rev tried some maple ice cream. (I'd rather save calories for something chocolatey.)

Finally, we were back in the car. This time, I took some Dramamine. However, I'm guessing the Dramamine plus the allergy meds I took earlier were not the best combo, because by the time we were home, I could hardly hold my head up. I went straight to bed, leaving the Rev to tend to Wiggles. Did I mention the Rev has a wicked nasal infection? For which he can't get antibiotics because our doctor doesn't have his file yet? (But has mine, though the requests were filled out at the same time. Special.)

This brings us to the present. Wiggle Man is in bed. The Rev and I are vegged out in front of the t.v., laughing at everyone's NCAA brackets crumbling. Ours included. This year, it will be a matter of whose brackets were the least sucky.

That is all.

Good News/Bad News

2010-03-16T08:58:00.000-07:00

**UPDATE** Is anyone trying to link up and having problems? Let me know--Mr. Linky seems to have disappeared; I'm working on it, though!

It's Wednesday again--we're halfway there! However, it's only Wednesday--only halfway to the weekend. I started GN/BN because I'm learning that with many things in life, it's really all about perspective.

This week, if you're up for it, I'm opening up GN/BN to you guys! Put your own GN/BN spin on things this week. Just link back to me in your post, then head over here and add yourself to Mr. Linky so we can all enjoy.

With that said, here's a look at life this week with Rev, The Missus, and our Wiggle Man:

Good News? We had some gorgeous weather last week.
Bad News? It was immediately followed by rainy, yucky weather that seemed even rainier and yuckier in comparison.

Good News? Lots of extra daylight, thanks to that whole "Daylight Savings Time" thing.
Bad News? I hate losing that hour of sleep.
Good News? Wiggle Man did not get the Daylight Savings Time memo, so he happily slept until 8:30 Sunday. And Monday. And Tuesday.

Good News? My doctor is pleased that, though I'm overweight, I'm active. She gave me a lovely speech telling me so.
Bad News? That lovely speech does nothing to make me feel better about the fact that though I excercise regularly, and watch what I'm eating, my pant size and weight stays happily larger than I'd like.

Good News? Body image aside, my Wiggle Man (and the Rev) always make me smile.
Bad News? They make me smile even when I'm trying to muster a "you're in biiiiiig trouble, mister" face.

Good News? Wiggle Man luuuuurves the new boots I bought him.
Bad News? He wears them everywhere. To the Y. To the store. Paired with his new wizard hat.

Good News? You all can join in the GN/BN fun this week. No Bad News there.

Monkey Boots and Mud Puddles

2010-03-14T14:27:00.000-07:00

This is what Wiggle Man and I did today:

We splashed.

We played with the ball. (Our version of soccer is...interesting.)

Wiggle Man made good use of his monkey boots.

Do you think he's enjoying himself?

Boats from the dollar section at Target make up Wiggle Man's navy.

Can you see Wiggle Man? He's sliding down his (wet) slide. He's wearing different pants now.

Splish, splash.

I think I really need my own boots now. Seriously, doesn't that look like fun?

Splish, Splash

2010-03-13T18:04:00.000-08:00

I've been drooling over these boots for weeks. (For Wiggle Man, not me. Not that I wouldn't mind a pair myself, they just don't come in my size. Ahem.)

With the rain we had this week, I figured it was time.

Wiggle Man splished. He splashed. He sailed his toy boats in the puddles. He splished and splashed some more.

And I was taken back to a time when I loved nothing more that the sound of a boot being pulled out of the muck, and the feel of the rain on my face. Before I started worrying about what all that weather was doing to my hair. Back when getting my clothes wet was ok. Back to the time I kept one of my pet worms in an empty milk carton in my desk at school for a day, terrified the entire day that he (she?) would escape and I would get in trouble.

Maybe I will buy myself some rain boots after all. I think I'm in need of some splishing and splashing.

Blog Carnival

2010-03-13T05:18:00.001-08:00

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna host my very own blog carnival! (Cue trumpets.)

This Wednesday, (and I will post Good News/Bad News on Wednesday, ahem, this week) GN/BN will be open for you guys to join in! At the bottom of my GN/BN post will be the very first Mr. Linky I'll put up (fingers crossed there). Link back to Rev and The Missus in your post, then head over here to add your post to Mr. Linky. I can't wait to see your GN/BN spin on your weeks.

Well, it's a rainy, yucky day here, so I'm off to figure out how to amuse this child of mine for the day.

Oopsie.

2010-03-10T19:50:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so you may have noticed here at Rev and the Missus that Tuesday seemed more like Wednesday. About that--I'm not crazy. I wrote this week's Good News/Bad News post yesterday with the intent of publishing it today. And then I went ahead and hit publish.

Oopsie.

Anyhoo...Good News/Bad News--I'm thinking of hosting a weekly Good News/Bad News for you guys to join in on. If you have a blog, and would like to participate--let me know. If it seems like there's interest, I'll put up a Mr. Linky or something next Wednesday.

Happy Wednesday, everyone! (For real, this time.)

Good News/Bad News

2010-03-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

Well, the good news is it's Wednesday. Halfway to the weekend, and all that. The bad news is it's Wednesday. Half a week to go. (Seriously, though--how is it Wednesday already? I feel like every week I'm stunned to be here.)

In other news:

Good news? Wiggle Man is talking up a storm.
Bad news? Wiggle Man is talking up a storm.

Good news? The lasagne I made with the scorched bechamel sacue is no longer in my freezer.
Bad news? Because we ate it.

Good news? We've had TWO SUNNY DAYS!
Bad news? Wiggle Man is filthy. Seriously, I must get that kid a bath.

Good news? New library books make me happy.
Bad news? It's hard to browse for books while chasing a toddler.

Good news? My jeans are getting comfier and comfier.
Bad news? Are you kidding? The only bad news is that I don't need a size smaller. Or two. Yet.

Good News/Bad News

2010-03-03T12:53:00.000-08:00

Well, it's Wednesday again. Good news? The week is half over! Weekend here we come! Bad news? It's only Wednesday.

Here's some more:

Good news? Walmart makes excellent pizza.
Bad news? I have to go to Walmart to get it.

Good news? I found a fitness class that I love.
Bad news? I'm still sore two days later.

Good news? Wiggle Man slept in this morning.
Bad news? He was up at 2 am, at 5 am....Mommy no likey.

Good news? We had lunch here today:

Bad news? I may never eat again. (Or perhaps that's still good news?)

Good news? I finally unpacked the suitcases from when we went to Pittsburgh in January.
Bad news? I still have two boxes sitting in my bedroom that need to go live in the attic. And a mirror to hang, and pictures and shelves to hang. Really, our house will look like we live here soon. Really.

Good news? A sweet woman from church made us some soup for dinner.
Bad news? Nope. No bad news here. I'm off to put some bread in the oven to have with dinner! Yum!

Confessional

2010-03-02T11:06:00.000-08:00

I'm exhausted, people. Tuesdays are crazy days around here--swim lessons for Wiggle Man, I teach music lessons in the afternoon before heading out the door for orchestra rehearsal after dinner.

But...dinner's in the crock pot, Wiggle Man is sleeping (I hope) and I am taking advantage of a few minutes of silence to blog before I: bake, do my hair, practise to warm up for tonight and clean the living room and piano room before my students get here. Sigh.

I thought Tuesday would make a lovely day for confession. So here's the nitty gritty:

*I hate emptying the dishwasher. I know, I know, I'm thankful I have one, so that I don't have to write about how I hate washing dishes. But there's just something about taking 5 minutes to empty the dishwasher that makes me procrastinate until my sink is filled with dirty dishes.

*Speaking of dishwashers, I wash everything in there--pots, pans, mixing bowls, you name it, if it's a dish, it goes in there. (Except the china. That I will hand wash.) The ability to throw dirty nasty dishes into a big box, add soap, press a button, and voila, clean dishes is why I signed up for the thing in the first place. None of this hand washing pots for The Missus.

*Potatoes that have sprouted really, really, REALLY creep me out. To the point of almost (almost) physically jumping back when I see it.

*I really straighten my hair because it feels better. I say it's because it's easier with Wiggle Man (who often feels the need to "brush" my hair with any object he can find...like a thermometer) but really it's just because my curly, fluffy hair feels all gross around my face.

*I'm convinced I play my instruments and sing better with straight hair.

*I feel human when I've had 9 hours of sleep the night before. 8 just doesn't cut it.

*I have applied hand lotion 4 times since lunch. It's 2:17.

*This whole post was an exercise in procrastination. But I think you'll forgive me.

Good News/Bad News

2010-02-24T15:30:00.000-08:00

Good News? It's Wednesday. We're halfway to the weekend!
Bad News? It's only Wednesday. We're only halfway to the weekend.

Good News? Canada beat Germany.
Bad News? Now we have to play Russia.

Bad News? I shrunk my favourite jeans.
Good News? I can still button them.
Bad News? They increase my muffin top quotient greatly.

Good News? I made granola today.
Bad News? It won't last more than a couple of days.

Good News? Wiggle Man loves the sheep puppet I got for him.
Bad News? He asks for "Sheep talk" all the time.

Good News? I have pie in my fridge.
Bad News? Not for long.

Train Up A Child

2010-02-21T16:06:00.001-08:00

In the way he should go

And when he is old, he will not turn from it.

What's that you say? Not quite what the writer of Proverbs had in mind?

Oh. Well, here's hoping for 2034!

WiggleSpeak

2010-02-20T10:24:00.001-08:00

Are you ready for another lesson in understanding my toddler? I sure hope so, because I've got another edition of WiggleSpeak all lined up for you:

Taneenee: "Canada." The Olympics are on. Of course I'm going to teach him to say "Canada." And if I can find it, you can bet he'll be wearing his Team Canada hockey jersey to church tomorrow, too.

Morn: "More." Why he adds the 'n' at the end, I have no idea. But he does it pretty consistently, as you'll see in the next term.

Morno: Sometimes pronounced, "Ah-morno" this is how my child tells you "tomorrow". It's a ritual we go through before every bedtime. "Big choo choo amorno?" "Yes, Wiggles, you can play with your train tomorrow." "Pu-lay tunnels? Tracks? Trains? Morno?" "Yes, dear. Tomorrow you can play with your tunnels and tracks and trains."

Lolos: "Letters." Wiggle Man has been learning letters via starfall.com. He is forever asking to "watch lolos" with me. And how can you say no when your child is asking to learn?

Mama/Dada: This not only refers to the Rev and I, but also to any other adult male or female Wiggle Man sees. So if you should happen to pass us in Target, and he points to you and says "Mama!" (or "Dada", depending on your gender), don't be alarmed.

Red Treat: "Kit Kat." (Have I done this one already? I'm too lazy to go back and check old posts.) Anyway, it's red. It's a treat. It's a Kit Kat. (That should totally be their new slogan.)

Dada Treats: "Reese's Puff Cereal." It's Daddy's cereal, that he occasionally shares with the Wiggle.

Mama Treats: "Mommy's awesome homemade granola that is super yummy." At least, I'm sure that's what he's implying.

Lessons Learned At Target

2010-02-19T10:48:00.000-08:00

Today, as we do at least once a week, Wiggle Man and I made our way to Target for lunch. It's convenient, has healthy options, and we can eat pretty cheaply. Ahh...Target Cafe. How I love you.

Up to this point, Wiggle Man had been remarkably compliant. He listened to me, to the ladies in childcare at the Y, and he was even (reasonably) quiet at the library. He was good.

That ended at Target. After dropping his mini hot-dogs on the floor, and having them graciously replace by the nice man at Target Cafe, Wiggle Man decided he'd actually rather not eat the hot dogs.

Really.

Instead, he wanted his animal crackers. It was at this point I made a decision. I decided not to care what anyone else thought about me, my son, or my parenting. So, I let him fuss and whine. Don't get me wrong--I'm all for respecting the rights of other people to enjoy their meals. But there was really no one around except the Starbucks baristas, and had Wiggle Man really let loose with the screaming, I most definitely would have removed him to the car.

But for once, I decided to stop worrying so much about what other people thought, and focus more on teaching my son discipline. He fussed. I calmly told him his animal crackers were for later, then continued eating. Every time he asked for them again, I reminded him I'd answered that question, then went back to my lunch. I didn't address his mini-tantrum, and kept calm. And just like every episode of Super Nanny, it actually worked. Wiggle Man finished his hot dogs.

I think at some point in our society, we've shifted the pendulum from being overly focused on our kids' needs, to being overly concerned about the rights of others. Like I said above, I'll take him to the car if he pulls out a full-on tantrum. And I wouldn't take him to a quiet, fancy restaurant at this point.

But no one goes to the Target Cafe for the ambiance. We're not talking $50 dollar steak dinners here. Even had Wiggles screamed at the top of his lungs, no one's romantic lunch would have been ruined. And Target Cafe can be just the place for learning--manners for testy two year-olds, and patience for uptight mamas.

Because You Asked...

2010-02-18T12:54:00.000-08:00

Well, Sara asked, anyway.

So here you go, Sara. And anyone else remotely interested.

My latest adventures in skin care (doo doo doo doo!):

I like St. Ives Elements Warming Scrub. It smells amazing, and my skin feels great afterwards.

My all-around, always love it, always works great standby is Dove Gentle Exfoliating Foaming Cleanser.

My new toy is L'Oreal Paris Go 360 Clean Deep Cream Cleanser. Honestly? The commercial with the little scrubbie that pops out of the bottle is what got me. And so far, I really like it--it tingles when I use it, my pores are getting smaller, and it feels nice and clean. It's hard to judge if it's drying out my skin too much, since winter sucks any and all moisture out of me.

Which is why I love The Body Shop's Vitamin E Sink-In Moisture Mask. It really helps with my dry spots, and my skin feels amazing after I use it.

So there you have it, Sara. My current faves in skin care. Until I see a commercial for something new, that is. As the Rev will tell you: "Advertising works on Jenn." It's a running joke in our house.

PS--no one compensated me in any form for this post.

I've Fallen

2010-02-17T10:43:00.001-08:00

You may think I've fallen off the face of the world, what with my shocking lack of blogging recently. We've had a few out-of-town guests back-to-back, so things got a little busy here for a while.

I have not, however, fallen off the face of the world.

I've been making granola. And muddy buddies and caramel corn, which counteract the healthiness of the granola.

I've been cheering Canada on in the Olympics.

I've been righteously indignant about some of NBC's coverage of said Olympics, and longed for CTV. Like most Canadians, I'd like to send Meredith the memo that Terry Fox did not star in Family Ties. That would be the talented Michael J.

I've been unpacking books. I've been trying to figure out where to hang shelves and pictures, so our living room can look like people actually live in it.

I've seen a great basketball game.

I've been having dreams that Wiggle Man decided to try potty training, instead of running away screaming.

I've been trying out new face cleansers. The Rev complains I have no brand loyalty. He's mostly right. But I like to try new things. I do stick with something once I find it really works. Usually.

And I've been trying to figure out how to turn off the snow. I thought when we moved south, I'd get warmer winters. Ha. My powers are too strong for that.

Cuddlebum

2010-02-10T09:51:00.000-08:00

The night before last I was lying in bed, thinking about this post. It had occurred to me that Wiggle Man cuddles me almost the exact way he did as a newborn...except, of course, he's much bigger now. But the position is much the same: head on my chest (or shoulder, now that he's taller), arms tucked under, my arm under his bum.

This picture doesn't quite show how he cuddled; I'm not sure if I had him turned for the camera, or what the deal was. It's also a great shot of how I looked before I stopped nursing and the nasty hormones decided to bloat me up. Lovely things, those hormones.

Well, I got all nostalgic thinking about my big boy, and how he's still my cuddlebum, but only when he's tired.

Aww.

Then, as if sensing my nostalgia, he spent yesterday "cooking" all over his bedroom and the kitchen. Remember this? Well, apparently Wiggle Man got a hold of the pepper shaker, managed to open it, and sprinkled pepper everywhere. I'm not exaggerating, either. It was on his bed, his pillow, his train table, his easel, his books, his toys, and literally coating the kitchen table.

Proud of how I'm learning to deal with these little interruptions that life with a toddler brings, I calmly (no, seriously) vacuumed it up, having Wiggle Man help when appropriate. (I know. I'm so...supermom.) <---sarcasm alert.

Anyway, a few short hours later I sat at the piano. I looked down to see someone (read: Wiggle Man) had decided to decorate the laminate floor. With pencil scribbles. A lot of them.

Let's just say God is giving me ample opportunities to practise patience. And I sure need the practise. Now, let me go see what the little dear is up to--I hear thuds coming from the piano room.

Caramel Addiction

2010-02-08T11:33:00.000-08:00

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

Well, I'm The Missus, and I have a problem. I'm a caramelcornaholic. It started innocently enough. I made a batch (technically, I made a third of a batch, at least according to the recipe I was using) Saturday night, in preparation for Sunday's Football Festivities. Between the Rev and I, that ginormous bowl of caramel deliciousness did not make it through the night. By bedtime, it was all gone. All of it. Gone.

So, Sunday afternoon, like the domestic maven I am, I prepared twice as much. This, along with the frozen pizzas and the veggies and dip I prepared the day before would be our Football Festivities Feast.

And, like the domestic maven that I am (or have been of late, anyway) I managed to burn one pan of the caramelly goodness. It was there that I learned a profound lesson. Yesterday's oven temperatures do not work with today's (adjusted) recipe.

I realised I had read the recipe wrong on Saturday, putting less baking soda in than I should have. Baking soda makes the caramel get all puffy (sorry for the technical terms here) and fluffy. So less baking soda means less fluffy caramel poured over your popcorn. This means it's a little thicker, so it doesn't melt as well in the oven. You put it in the oven on baking trays to help coat all the popcorn, taking it out every 15 minutes to stir. Because it wasn't melting as well, I bumped up the temperature a bit to help things along.

Fast forward to Sunday's batch. I realise I read the recipe wrong the day before, and make the proper adjustments, resulting in gloriously fluffy caramel. I poured it all over the popcorn, and put the trays in the oven. At the same temperature I had the day before.

Which resulted in this:

That, friends, is a charred pan from which burnt caramel corn was scraped off. And eaten. I mean, it's still caramel corn. (I told you I had a problem. In my defense, I couldn't eat all of it...just the least burnt parts. And I saved the good batch for the game. Really.)

The point? (Besides showing you my yucky pans?) Yesterday's solutions may not work for today's problems. It seems obvious, but sometimes I need to be reminded to think things through, taking every circumstance into consideration.

But, I decided to make the best of a charred situation, and share with you my secret for cleaning this:

See that white stuff all over the pan? Yesterday after they cooled off, I wet the pans just a little, and poured baking soda all over the burnt sugar mess. You want to make a paste out of the baking soda and water, and essentially cover the burnt bits with the paste. Don't be like me, and forget the edges and corners.

Then, do nothing. Let those babies sit. Give the baking soda past plenty of time to work its magic. Then, after about a day, take a plastic food scraper (oh, how I love thee) and scrape the mess away. Everything under the baking soda paste will scrape away. You probably won't even need the scraper to get it off. But, I use it just in case I find a spot I missed with the paste. A little rinse under the faucet, a quick scrub with some dish soap to remove any residue, and there you have it:

Clean pans! (My food scraper wanted to pose with the pan, so I let it.) Now, I know you're thinking that pan isn't exactly gleaming, but it's not like it was gleaming before it was covered in burnt sugar. I mean, it's still me we're talking about, after all.

Crunch Factor

2010-02-06T16:46:00.001-08:00

I read a lot of "crunchy" blogs. Or, rather, blogs written by crunchy folk. Baby wearing, cloth diapering, homemade hummus eating, TV banishing kind of people.

There's a part of me that really wishes I could be like this. And, in some ways, I suppose I am. But, I just can't make the total commitment. I like Cheetos and paper towels and hot dogs too much. I like thick, fluffy 42-freakin' ply toilet paper. I like my SUV. I like American Idol.

So, I have decided, I am quasi-crunchy. I've been looking for a way to use quasi these days, anyway, so quasi-crunchy it is.

Here's why I think I qualify for the quasi:

I made granola yesterday. My very own. And just because I was slightly confused about what ancient super grain I was using (kamut, not spelt, although I debated both in the store) doesn't make me any less crunchy. (The brown sugar I used instead of who-knows-what may have taken me down a notch, which is why I can't be fully crunchy.) Still, the stuff was awesome.

I bake our bread. (Most days. Some days I just get lazy, and grab a loaf at Target.)

I make my own cleaner. Baking soda and my lemony vinegar/water stuff takes care of just about everything in our house. I have reusable, washable sponges. (A handy bottle of bleach for the toilets, and Clorox Wipes for the toilet seats are my compromise.)

I tried to wear Wiggle Man as a baby. He wasn't big on it. Not the baby carrier, nor the wrap (which required a minimum of a Master's Degree to understand how to tie the baby to yourself) nor the traditional Maasai carry (which he actually fell out of.) But I like the idea of it, you see. I'd even give it another go, should I ever find myself needing to carry around a baby. The point is, I tried.

I tried to make hummus. It was gross. I tried store bought hummus. Also gross. In fact, the only hummus I like comes from a local restaurant, located on the "other side of the mountain", which makes it less local and more like halfway across the country. So I don't get it often.

I'm also a little on the crunchy side when it comes to female health. That's all I have to say about that (thank you, Forrest) for the sake of my male relatives and friends who read this blog. You're welcome, guys.

So there you have it. My crunch factor is about a quasi crunchy. Not earth mother, but not, well, whatever is at the other end of that spectrum. Somewhere in the middle, where most of us reside. Because regardless of where you view yourself on that spectrum, if you're making the best decisions for you and your family, that's all the crunchy you need.

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

2010-02-03T08:57:00.000-08:00

That's what they say, anyway. So here's my little angel, getting his clean on.

I won't tell you what he was wiping off his face in this picture. I will tell you that whatever it was (and far be it from me to discuss yucky things on this blog) just may have come from out of his nose.

But I'm not telling.

Not Being That Girl

2010-02-02T15:19:00.000-08:00

There seems to be this idea going around that I'm a good baker. Probably because I post pictures, lots of pictures, of things that I've made that look yummy.

What I don't post, however, are things that look less than yummy.

You see, I want you to think I'm a good baker, a good cook, a good musician, a good wife and mother (and not necessarily in that order, of course.) But I like the notion that I have it all together.

It's completely false, of course. I don't have it all together. You don't have it all together. We all know someone that we think has it all together. Someone who only serves healthy food to her family, who seems to have a natural gorgeousness even wearing sweats and a ponytail, whose house could be (and let's face it, probably was) featured in a magazine.

But I'm guessing even that woman doesn't have it all together. She can't. No one can. It's not how we're made, and I think there's a reason for that. I think we're not supposed to be able to stay on top of everything so that we realise our need for something other than. Something (or rather, Someone) other than us.

Well, today I'm going to show you my less-than-wonderful side.

I tried to make cookies today. I tried. But I was out of shortening, and my recipe calls for half butter and half shortening. I thought I could make it work with just butter. Yeah...not so much.

Cookies made solely with butter have a tendency to spread. Factor in my tendency to make larger cookies, and you end up with a pan full of cookie blobs all stuck together.

Then imagine me trying to remove said cookie blobs. It wasn't pretty, friends. The picture doesn't do these mangled, twisted cookie wrecks justice. The Rev actually laughed when he saw them. (That didn't stop him from sampling them, however.)

So, besides their photo here, these cookies will never see the light of day. They will not leave this house. I imagine The Rev, Wiggle Man and I will not let them go to waste. We'll probably snack on them over the next day or so. (The leftover dough that I never even bothered to bake once I saw how the cookies came out? That, my dears, is safely stowed in my fridge. Cookie dough is cookie dough.)

Return Of The Snow Fairy

2010-01-30T10:58:00.000-08:00

If you doubted that I am, indeed, The Snow Fairy, look what awaited us when we woke up this morning:

Wiggle Man decided to help out. His tractor doesn't drive well in the snow. I don't think they make snow tires for those.

So he helped brush off the car, instead.

My sincerest apologies to my new neighbours for bringing all this white stuff. If my powers hold true to form, things should be back to normal by next winter.

More Places

2010-01-29T08:05:00.000-08:00

The nice man at Wholey's let Wiggle Man hold a lobster.

He's thrilled.

Actually, he's distracted by the choo choo.

I'm telling you. Everywhere we went seemed to have a train somewhere.

Places

2010-01-28T10:43:00.000-08:00

Last week the Rev and I took Wiggle Man on a little trip. We told him "vacation" is where you go see new places.

Places became his word of the week.

Especially places with trains.

Here's a view from the top of the Duquesne Incline, in Pittsburgh, where we got to spend some time with good friends.

7:17 am

2010-01-28T04:18:00.000-08:00

It's 7:17 am.

And I'd like to go back to bed, please.

I woke up to find I could only breathe through one nostril (the left, for the curious) thanks to a forgotten dose of allergy medication last night.

Wiggle Man wanted milk. I managed to spill it down the front of my cupboards and onto my feet. Then, of course, the sippy cup I poured what milk did not end up on the floor into seemed to have a stuck straw.

Rather than fight the sippy cup, I took the opportunity to let Wiggle Man use his brand spankin' new Thomas cup.

He showed his appreciation by informing me he wanted "Green milkie."

As in, 'Nice try, lady, but bring me the green cup.'

As if.

Tastes Yucky

2010-01-21T12:59:00.000-08:00

And it's pronounced "tast-es." Yes, two syllables. This from my Wiggle Man, who is also turning "yes" into a two-syllable word. ("Yay-ess.")

But I digress.

"Tastes yucky" is Wiggle Man's new Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card. At least, he thinks it is. Trying to get this child do do something he does not want to do is invariably met with "tastes yucky."

Diaper changes? "Tastes yucky." (I imagine they would, my boy.)

Nap time? "Tastes yucky."

Picking up his toys? "Tastes yucky."

Of course, any food he doesn't want to eat "tastes yucky." That goes without saying.

However, this morning my little man awoke to a somewhat unsettled stomach. Let's just say there were some dry heaves, and some actual vomit, and leave the detailed description for my phone call to the pediatrician's office.

And what did my little man have to say after this ordeal? (Besides asking repeatedly for the blankies that were now "taking a bath" in the washing machine, that is?)

"Tastes yucky."

Yes, my son, it certainly does. Now let's go get those teeth brushed, 'cause it sure smells yucky, too.

Little Boy

2010-01-15T14:02:00.000-08:00

It's happening before my eyes.

My little baby is becoming a little boy.

Now, this is not a sudden development--I've been saying this for a while now. But today has been one of those days where I seem to notice it more.

We went swimming this morning at the Y. Wiggle Man watched a man swimming laps and said, "Me try." So today, instead of his usual march through the water with a floaty on his back, he let me hold him on his stomach while he "swam." He went underwater. He let me put him on his back. He stood under the shower afterwards, instead of freaking out at the water hitting his face.

Tonight, we had cheeseburgers for dinner, just the two of us. He sat across from me in the booth, happily munching his fries. He used a napkin to wipe his hands and mouth. By himself.
He begged for his toy, and in true parental fashion I made him wait until he was finished eating.

Time is flying.

Cake Pops

2010-01-10T15:35:00.000-08:00

This weekend, we had dinner with some friends. I saw it as a perfect opportunity to practise my cake decorating. (Plus, let's be honest--I was craving chocolate cake.)

Well, it was also the first chance I'd had to make a cake using Bertha, my new KitchenAid stand mixer. Well...I got a little excited, and used the wrong attachment on Bertha when making the icing. It was lumpy, no doubt about it.

I tried putting the cake together, anyway. I even got as far as putting a crumb coat of icing on it and letting it set up in the fridge overnight. But I just couldn't do it.

So, I took the opportunity to try something I've been wanting to try for a while now: Bakerella's Cake Pops. Check out her awesome blog for the actual recipe; I simply took my cake, scraped off the offending lumpy icing, and mashed it up with some nice, non-lumpy chocolate icing.

Then I formed the chocolatey goodness into balls (some were too big, in hindsight) and stuck them with lollipop sticks. My cake pops took a chill in the freezer to firm them up:

And then they took a bath in melted candy melts (Wiggle Man wanted "poopah" melts). I should have kept the melted candy and chocolate warmer; you can see this one didn't coat as well as the ones behind it.

And some dark chocolate. ("The chocolate coating makes it go down easier." Actually, these went down pretty easily, thank you Valerie.)

I ran out of chocolate and candy melts, so I thought I'd use up some white chocolate. I think the cake pops had been out of the freezer for too long and weren't as firm as they should have been:

Sadly, Wiggle Man and I had to eat this poor cake pop ourselves. Just to, you know, make sure they tasted ok.

Yup.

Wiggle Man was a little confused by the cake pops (he couldn't tell if they were ice cream or cake) but definitely enjoyed eating them. I wish I'd gotten a picture of him chowing down on his poopah cake pop.

Cake on a stick. What a grand idea. Thanks, Bakerella!

Catching Up

2010-01-07T14:39:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm getting there. Caught up, that is. Between Christmas, New Years, visiting family, last minute rehearsals and life in general I have to be honest: I'm whooped. Beat. Exhuasted.

Forgive me that I'm a little slow on this, but here is a glimpse into our Christmas morning.

But first, remember this? My little man, cheering for Christmas? I thought you might be interested in seeing his actual reaction upon waking.

Confession

2010-01-03T12:14:00.001-08:00

So I thought today would be a a good day to purge my soul. New Year=clean slate, and all that. So here are my confessions:

A day without a bubble bath is a sad, sad day.

My hair has never looked better since I stopped washing it every day. You may think that's gross, but my hair (and me) are much happier.

Sometimes I have to "go to the bathroom" simply to shut the door and get some peace and quiet.

I really think it's hysterical when Wiggle Man runs away from the children's message in church. (Even though I pretend to be horrified. It's too cute.)

Right now, even though we just came back from a great Chinese buffet, I still want to eat some chocolate.

I must use lotion at regular intervals. Hands, feet, elbows--you name it, it needs moisture.

I'm finding it hard to focus because I want that chocolate.

I still haven't put pictures from Christmas on the computer. I'll get to it. Really.

I carried my piccolo to church this morning in my purse. I think playing an instrument that fits in my purse is the bestest.

I'm going to finish this now, so I can eat some chocolate.

WiggleSpeak

2009-12-30T17:34:00.000-08:00

Now that Wiggle Man is busting out with words and phrases all over the place, I thought it was time for more WiggleSpeak.

Drum: Anything that can be turned over and made into a drum. Any kind of bucket is especially drummerific.

Drum Store: Walmart, thanks to the two "drums" we've purchased there.

Mmmmm, tasty!: Well, that's pretty self explanatory, but it's pretty hysterical when he randomly blurts that out in the grocery store, pointing out what he'd like me to buy.

Ply-0h: Play-Doh, which is Wiggle Man's (current) favourite creative outlet. He especially likes to make pancakes.

Cheese-boos: Wiggle Man can has cheezburger?

In addition to his own dialect, Wiggles has some interesting quirks that I thought would be fun to share. Like the fact that he often "brushes" my hair with a thermometer.

Or how he collects all the pencils from the pews in church. (Amazing what a toddler can get into while he waits for Mommy and the Rev to be ready to go.)

And then there's how he dances when he imitates Mommy exercising. Perhaps one day, if you're good, you'll get a video of that. (The imitation, that is. No one should have to endure a video of me exercising.)

You'll Learn Things You Never Knew You Never Knew

2009-12-26T16:59:00.001-08:00

My family is here for Christmas. And, in true Canadian fashion, we headed out to go shopping on Boxing Day.

For my American readers who may not be aware, December 26th is Boxing Day. There's a historical basis for the name, but these days it boils down to the Canadian equivalent of Black Friday.

It's also the beginning of the World Junior Hockey Championships. Which I cannot watch on tv here. At least I can online. 16-0 Canada over Latvia, by the way.

But I digress.

There we were, at Target (of course) because Wiggle Man needed more diapers. My brother looked at me, and in all seriousness asked if the weight range on the box of diapers was the amount of...poo...a diaper could hold.

(Only in he used another word.)

Think of it. 22-27 pounds of poo.

That must be some baby.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T18:26:00.000-08:00

Emmanuel.

God With Us.