3.28.2008

I Served My Guest a Spider

She didn’t eat it, thankfully. Or take her banana cake and up and leave. But there it was in her coffee cup just the same. Unbelievably gracious, she even blamed herself for its appearance in her mug. Still and all, I gave her a coffee with a spider in it.

Actually, I think I gave her milk with a spider in it, because we store the mugs upside down, but the little fancy creamer right-side up, and since we don’t use it very often and it is quite stylish, I can see why a spider would make it its home.

Regardless, she poured the milk into the coffee, and as a bonus, got a spider.

All the little ones got a cute little tray filled with goodies that toddlers gobble – cheese, grapes, quartered homemade muffins, blueberries. You get the idea. They also got toys to play with, stories to read, beads to string and at one point things were quiet in the playroom which revealed Bee teaching the other toddlers to play Fists of the Lotus or some such nonsense on the Xbox. Chris will have to explain how and why Bee knows how to play Fists of the Lotus or some such nonsense on the Xbox. Or why she knows how to mash enough buttons to get the thing going anyway. Well, anyway, that’s what the toddlers got; the babies got their mother’s milk and NoMo and Blah Blah got just plain coffee, no spiders, and we all ate the banana cake and a lot of the toddler goodies too, but Kittenpie got a spider.

I served my guest – the pregnant one; the one that brought the banana cake, read stories to my kid, held my other kid when the first one nose-dived off the chair and needed consoling, told funny stories and was generally lovely to have around – a spider.

Do you think she’ll come back?

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3.25.2008

Pray for Me

I have my first session at the gym that I know I have to join in about four hours.

I really don't want to go. I have to, but I don't want to.

I have belonged to three or four gyms in the past, and it never ends well. Well, it does for the gym, who makes at least 6 months' fees off of a member that has been inside the doors exactly three times - to walk on the treadmill for half an hour and then go have a sauna. Where I did indeed break a sweat, so it was easy to pretend that I had 'worked out.'

This time I am determined not to walk out on my workout. Because I want to be healthy. Because I want to set a good example for my children, who will know that their parents exercise. Because there is a Starbucks right downstairs and I can reward myself with a (fat-free) latte when I'm done getting my ass kicked by my circuit traning, whip-yielding coach. Because shlepping around a 15.5 lb 4-month old (seriously! how cute is my little buddha baby!) just isn't cutting it.

Kidding. I will not be an exercise flight-risk because I am currently sporting two asses, and even though one of them is conveniently hiding my incision, it really doesn't belong on that side of my body. C'mon, you know what I'm talking about. It ain't gonna go away on its own, and I already eat really well, plus, I'm not giving up snacking, so I guess I had better actively give it a hand in getting lost.

If I can even get my asses into my workout clothes.

Pray for me.


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3.20.2008

Live Blogging: It's Time!

Ok, this has been quite the Live Blogging whirlwind.

Dove puked anyway.

BFF is now here, and cuddling Dove while I do this.

The dryer just finished, so I can go get my hoodie.

I forgot to pack snacks for Bee, so I still need to do that.

And I think I will definitely join the gym.

Gotta go, I'm crowning!
kidding. ha ha.

Thanks for indulging me. I will not be having any more children, so it was nice to have the opportunity to do this.

Stay classy, blogosphere.


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Live Blogging: More From Thursday Morning

Dove is finished eating. Has burped but still might puke, because, well, she's a puker.

BFF still not here. That's ok, we don't have to go get Bee for another half an hour. She has no children and runs her own business, so she doesn't know how to get up and go early. Lucky.

I believe I will join the circuit-training gym that is NOT curves, even though I will hate every second of it. I have a free go Tuesday night to confirm this.

Other bloggers give good baby shower gift. Proof:



Thanks, Sin!






Thanks, SBB!



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Live Blogging: 100th Post

Hey, I'm back, and so far, not much has changed. Thursday Morning is chugging along, Dove is still sleeping, I may actually finish my coffe while it is hot, and...

This is my 100th post! How exciting that I get to Live Blog my 100th post at The Kids Are Alright!

In honour of my 100th post and my second Live Blog post, here is a picture of my children, because you know, this is all for them.



Are they not fucking adorable? Am I allowed to say that? Cuz, you know this is live and all.

Ok, Dove is up and I am now Live Blogging one-handed! Oh, this is good stuff. Back soon. How'm I doing?

Live Blogging: Thursday Morning

So, you know, I really don't complain or have any regrets about my planned second homebirth turning into a c-section, but there are a few things that I was really, really looking forward to that I missed out on. Like, excrutiating pain - I'm sorry, I meant, excrutiating intensity (I like to keep things positive), and you know, ripping the yoni open thanks to my anvil-hard perrineum (damn kegels), and Live Blogging.

It was so part of my plan that I would live blog my labour, like others have done. I thought it would be so exciting to have a play-by-play to look back on; to read your encouraging words as my cervix dialated and I yelled for frozen grapes and back rubs; to gloat about how I barely broke a sweat through transition (I know, I'm funny); to finally post that last live blog post that read simply, I believe I'm crowning - gotta go!.

Alas, it was not meant to be. And I'm ok on missing out on the intensity, the ripping, the grace through transition (still laughing) and the eventual deposit of my child onto my bed.

But bitchez, I've decided that I'm getting my live blogging on.

Live from the blog, it's Thursday Morning!

Ok! Here we go!

It is 10:20 a.m. Dove is downstairs sleeping in the car seat; we have arrived home from dropping Bee at nursery school and going to check out the new circuit-training gym that is NOT curves that I know I must join.

BFF will be here soon, and then we will pick up Bee, go to Mocha Mocha for lunch and head to the One of A Kind Craft Show at the Ex.

Whoo. This live blogging is exciting. Back soon.

3.14.2008

Yer Mama

This is what a real mother looks like pre-coffee. Better make it a double.







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3.11.2008

Twenty(ish) Questions (Part II)

Ok, Bee is at nursery school for another hour, Dove is napping, and the kitchen is a total disaster area. Time to blog!

Let’s just get right down to it, shall we? Ok, where were we? Right! Redneck Mommy wants to know what my favourite TEEN aged memory was.

Well Red, I’m glad you used all-caps to keep me on track of the TEEN part, since so much of it was clouded in pot smoke, I need an all-caps reminder to keep me on track.

Heh, heh. I digress. I am one of those bitches that loved her teenaged years. Not because I was some candy-assed cheerleader/prom queen, but because I went to a very liberal high-school, was friends with people in all of the ‘groups’ (which in my day was mainly deadheads, TIPsters [one petty crime away from being kicked out of school], housers [remember the polkadots?!] and, well, Jewish princesses), had a 21-year old boyfriend by time I was 16, was allowed to traverse North America on Dead tour, and learned how brew BTs that made even twelfth graders drool.

So Red, the answer is: I can’t remember. Pass the Cherry Garcia, would ya?

Gabs wants to know, if you could have dinner with 3 famous people, dead or alive, who would they be?

Answer: 1. My Dad
2. My Dad
3. My Dad

He will seem famous in the stories I tell of him to my girls.

But if there is a bonus fourth, let’s add Janis Joplin. We would both enjoy her company.


MamaT wants to know how me and Chris met.

We met while both working at a big box book store. I had just returned from a year of travel, and Chris was about to enter his last year of college. I had sworn off men, but since I thought Chris looked like a beautiful alien (those wide-set almond eyes! that seriously chiseled jaw!), he was fair game, and I was still cute back then, so I got him.

Mama T never played by the rules, so she slipped in a query about diamond shreddies – YES, bullshit.

As for the theme song, I’ll think on it. There could be many.

Mrs. Chicky also asked more than one question, but I ain’t gonna argue with a pregnant dog-trainer. They’re fierce. So here goes:

Favorite band ever? Favourite changes through time, but how ‘bout most-beloved? The Dead.

Underoos - loved them or hated them? Loved them until my big sis got the Wonder Woman underoos and I got freakin Deputy Dog.

Burt's Bees - Great company or corporate sellout? Sellout. I’ve moved on to Weleda products for me and my brood.

Most bizarre experience of your life? Too many to name. An all-night Israeli rock concert in 1998 was pretty weird, so too was walking downstairs in the house I shared with buds years ago to find a homeless, cracked out old woman sitting in my living room. Watching my dad have a heart attack at my grandmother’s funeral was surreal. Giving birth is the ultimate head trip.

BFF wants to know if she should name her firstborn Skipper.
Dude, of course.

Urban Daddy threw this one at me:
After meeting you in person, I realized you are shorter in person than you appear in this blog (hoping right now not to be "deleted comment") so have you ever wanted to be taller, how tall and for what specific reason?

My man, you were this close to being “deleted comment.”

But truly, no. I’ve always rocked the cute little girl thang (my signature style was always Kindergarten Chic. Eat it, feminists.), and it is only since I have gotten two-child fat that I wouldn’t mind a little stretch to even things up.
And I always joke that I married Chris to give my kids a fightin’ chance at some height and a good nose, so the pressure for kids that break the 5’2” mark is on, mister.

Nancy offered:
Do you think it was karma kicking my butt when I TOTALLY judged you for giving your girl chocolate chips ... and then MY baby girl found out about chocolate chips just days later and LOVES THEM? I gave her one VERY dark chip thinking it would be bitter, she would hate it and that would be the end of that. Instead, she loved it and constantly asks for "more dark chocolate!!"
I say karma, what say you?

Nancy, I totally appreciate your honesty here. *cough*slutface*cough*

I too have been a judgy mcjudger in the past, but y’know? You do things differently when you have an unreasonable toddler demanding unreasonable things and your feisty newborn is bitching at you because she can’t retain her grip on your boob because you just got up to answer the phone and the water is boiling over and who just pooped?

So, yeah. Karma’s a bitch. Just wait until she asks for a pony.

Marla wants to commend me on my fabulous interior decorating skizzles and tell me how totally hip and chic she thinks our pad is.

Ok, fine, she just wants to know what the colour on the wall is. But you know, Marla has one of the best eyes in the biz, and I am honoured by her recognition of our cool wall colour.

It’s something from Home Depot. Can’t remember the name, but it nets out to a very retro deep turquoise that compliments our cherry stained gumwood trim and Russell Spanner furniture collection really well. (That was shameless. Sorry.)

NoMo, that big lush and fellow buddha baby mama wants to know: How much alcohol have you drunk since having your second baby?? [Read: These kids of mine are driving me to drink.]

Answer: Not enough. But I’m a lightweight, and really, I need coffee more than I need alcohol. But don’t touch my Mill Street Organics, or I’ll cut your hands off.

Blah, Blah Blog asks: Why do you like ME?
Easy, Blah: we are again on mat leave at the same time. That’s all I need.
Kidding! You are smart, and funny, and you understand what my mother is like. Those are very very important things. So is living close and making good coffee.

And:
Sephardic or Ashkenazi? Oy vey. Ashkenazi, unless you ask my sister who insists that my Romanian gypsy grandmother was actually Spanish.

And:
Would you have your son circumcised? Can I just say that I am so happy that we never had to decide? It's tough being a Jewish earth-mama.

And… if not being mom-entous at the mom-ent, how would you, ideally, occupy yourself? Blogging and drinking coffee, just like I am now, but I would ideally be typing with two hands (did I mention that Dove woke up, like, 4 questions ago?)

Bonus! After the buzzer questions from Crazymumma , Sandra and Something Baby Blue:

Crazymumma: If you and your guy are in the same room with the girls, do they always turn to you first? Or to him.

Ok, funny story. I didn't read this right and seriously thought that you were asking whether girls in general turned to me or Chris first, and was wondering what kind of trouble you were trying to stir up.

Since I now realize that you are talking about OUR girls, I'll give my head a shake and say, me. Well, Dove, always, since Chris does not have boobs (thank gawd), and with Bee, mostly, except at certain times when she knows it is daddy/Bee time. They always play together right after dinner, so she doesn't bother with me then. If she needs something done, she'll come to me. I'll often redirect.

Sandra asks: what one story from your youth will you never share with your girls??

I will NEVER tell them about hitch-hiking from Nanaimo to Tofino with BFF. First off, it took almost a week to travel 6 hours because our very first ride was a cute guy in a VW van and he picked us up and I stayed with him for 5 days. We also managed rides with a drunk pair of brothers, a middle-aged man who convinced us to walk into the bush with him to look at land he wanted to buy (fuck, we were the dumbest stupidest girls ever. He turned out to be on the level, but WTF were we thinking?!?), the drunk brothers AGAIN and finally a pastor who we decided we were just going to trust no matter what and fell asleep in the back seat.

Don't worry, I'm shaking my head too.

And finally, Jana - he can do whatever he'd like ;)

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