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I Predict Asshole

17 Feb

This past fall we took in an adorably fuzzy little monster, my niece could no longer care for. The puppy’s age and breed are still undetermined, aside from the guess of the vet. So far, we have had her for nearly five months. In that time we have had her spayed, house trained and kennel trained. Also, in that time she has weaselled her way into everyone’s hearts. Everyone she meets falls in love with her, oh but to know the real her. As wonderful as she is, and how amazing she is with our boys, and can stand up to our other, very dominant, female dog; she is a terror to be had. Or in other words, she is the devil. A most adorably, sweet She-Devil. She rivals Stephen King’s Thing of Terror. Sorry Stephen, my puppy is the real terror. She chews up shoes and toys, finds ways to dig in the garbage, and nip at your legs to get your attention. When she gets in trouble she will sometimes talk back.

Today I took a mouth swab to find out her breed. Once we get the DNA results back, we will know her breed, and I predict it will be asshole.

 

your charming Canadian housewife

 

TDSB School Asked My Austic Student Not to Attend Graduation

24 Jun

This discrimination makes me very sad for the little girl and her family. We are supposed to be teaching our children not to discriminate. These people are creating a bad example.

Heart Learning Centre & CampZone

14704200941_0002188237_zI woke up this morning to the word ‘freedom’ in my mind. How wonderful I thought this is a day to project freedom. I was asked by Priya’s dad (not her real name) if I could take care of her this morning and drop her to school at 10:30am rather than regular time at 8:40am. Priya my autistic student that attends my after school program and is absolutely beautiful. Hmmm- That’s a strange request I thought. I was happy to care for her however confused about why the school would ask  her to come late. He texted me that the teacher asked the JK students to come at 10:30 because the Senior kindergarten students were having graduation. So this morning I did have to pass by the school at 8:40am and noticed ALL the kids were on their way to school – as usual. The parents, students and teachers were dressed up, handing…

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Lego cares about your health, kinda.

30 Apr

If your kids are like my kids, then your kids have a shit-ton of Lego, and it’s all over the effing place. In the fridge, in the bathroom. EVERYWHERE. Someone once said sparkles are herpes of the craft world. I have no idea what one would categorize Lego as? I would say it should be categorized under torture devices because, seriously, stepping on a piece of Lego is the absolute worst thing ever. I wonder why Lego is not used to extort information from criminals? The police would get a lot of information from criminals by making them walk on those torture bricks.

Aside from being the evil nemesis of parent’s feet, the Lego brand really does care about the health of its customers. A couple of months ago, I took my youngest to the Lego store. While I was at the store I found Lego brick salt and pepper shakers, which I bought. My boys loved the new shakers. They are cute and are easy to find in my spice cupboard because male refrigerator blindness is not just limited to the fridge. The Lego brick salt and pepper shakers are great for the kids to use on their own because the salt and pepper don’t pour out too fast causing food to become over saturated with either. Unless atherosclerosis is a goal of yours, then I do not recommend you to buy these.

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There is always a light, no matter how dark.

31 Jul

I haven’t blogged in a long while. There are several reasons for it. One of them being I didn’t want to. Another is I have been completely exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. I am writing today because there is something that needs to be written about. That maybe some of us don’t necessarily talk about.

Each of us, when we are born, are connected to everyone in our family who was born before us, by a thread. We are like a tapestry; and as our lives move along more threads are added to that tapestry. Every thread is interwoven and makes us who we are. In many ways our patterns are a reflection our parents, grandparents, anyone and everyone who has touched our lives, we will always be connected to them. No matter how insignificant a person or experience may be, it has helped woven ourselves into who we are, what our pattern has become.

I, myself, have a thread missing. Me and anyone who is, was related through family, or friendship to my cousin, C. That thread in the tapestry, who makes me who I am, is missing. You may not see it at first, but if you look a little closer it is gone. That ache and pain, which leaves my core shaking, threatens to leave me falling, drowning. It’s the only way to describe it. I can only imagine what it must be like for his mother, brothers, sister-in-law, nieces, and friends who knew him, loved him. I loved him. Even if I had forgotten I loved him because that is what we do. People we love sometimes drift out of our lives and we forget we love them. He was my family, like a brother. We were only a month apart. His birthday was this month. As a mother it pains me to know that his mother had to remember on the day he was born, the day he died. It kills me actually. Even though I hadn’t seen him in years, he is, was connected to me as a part of my very young childhood. I may not have many remembered memories, but there is still the feeling there, the memories from our aunts and uncles, our parents. The tales of us, which make up that part of our childhood because we were too young to remember. The memory of happier innocent times.

The way we lost C was through the darkness of depression and suicide. I don’t know what his last days were like, but I can only imagine. People don’t talk about wanting to die. Why would you? Depression is a terrible thing. It lies and tells us we are not good enough, that there is no way out of the darkness that threatens to consume us whole, threatening to spit us out and leave us nothing but a shell. I’m guessing that is what C may have thought, when he thought that there was no other way out. I wish I had been with him in those days to tell him it going to be O.K., that it is just a moment, and he can get through it. I wish I could have been there and hold his hand, to let him know, when that moment tries to take him over, he has family who loves him and is willing hold his hand and walk through the trenches with him to escape the darkness. I wish I could have let him know he wasn’t alone, that he’s not the only one who knows what that dark feels like. That darkness that threatens to take down everything you love and have worked hard to keep safe. So many wishes.

What I wish for now is peace for his family, our family, to cherish his memory. To love him as we remember him. What I also wish is for others who have those moments of darkness, who feel like they can’t hold on, to find that light, to know there is someone’s hand which is willing to hold on to yours and walk you through that hellish darkness, towards the light that is hope. I wish for those who feel that way, to get help, talk about it to someone. There is always someone to listen, hold your hand. I can hold your hand, C, I can hold your hand.

Sooke baby!

1 Jun

Finally I found some time to write this post. I was originally working on a post about being married to my husband Chris for 10 years but things took a different turn. Chris kept mentioning that on the weekend of our anniversary he had something special planned. I figured it was some spa thing. As the week wore on he kept dropping hints. His big one was I didn’t know where I was going and for how long. So on our anniversary night while out for dinner he told me what I already had figured out. We were heading to Vancouver Island and dropping the kids off on the mainland with my parents! I didn’t know but he had been planning this for months.  Who freaking knew! He had to sneak around to do it. I was impressed.

The next day off we flew to my home province of beautiful British Columbia. We left the kids at my parents house and drove to Sooke on Vancouver Island. We stopped at a local pub for lunch then made our way to the Sooke Harbour House. And it was glorious. Our room was amazing. We stayed in The Driftwood Room. When checking in they had a jar of cookies, at the elevator there was a jar of cookies and in our room were cookies. Yes I was in cookie heaven. Or I would have been if I didn’t already eaten so much food at the pub. As well as having cookies in our room we had a bottle of port.

After touring the grounds we went up to have an amazing 4 course meal where I stuffed myself to the point I couldn’t move. Literally couldn’t move. I was almost sick from the amount of food I ate. But it was so worth it. Everything was fresh and in season. The sea food tasted like it came right out of the water and onto my plate. Delicious!

  

I was so full at this point but kept going.

 After dinner was a walk along the beach and then back to our room to enjoy our hot tub (apparently not a time machine), the ocean and some port. I can’t even begin to tell you how relaxing it was to sit outside and listen to the ocean.

Sooke

View from our room

 

The next morning they brought breakfast to our room and again got to sit outside and listen to the ocean. While Chris relaxed after breakfast I did the edible garden tour. We even had a rosemary bush outside our room. Everything planted around the House was edible. After our stay at The Harbour House and a quick tour of Sooke we headed to Victoria where we did some sight seing and more eating. We went to The Sticky Wicket then to Big Bad John’s for drinks all at the Strathcona Hotel. One could really lose their bra in that place.

The trip was the most wonderful surprise present I could ever ask for. Thank you Chris. I can’t wait for our next trip! 

View from our Victoria hotel room

 
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Mickey Mouse Ears and Security Threats

2 Mar

 Disney World was wonderful and amazing. It brought back so many memories of being a child and things I’d forgotten about. I loved watching my boys having fun. Plus it was nice to be where the weather wasn’t -49 with windchill.

 

Then there is all the other not so amazing wonderful things in between. Like having a random flagging on my boarding pass to check me for extra security. Right. Me?! A stay a home mom is a security threat to the United States. I was given the option of pat down or scan. I chose the pat down because in no way do I want people looking at me naked. I don’t even want to see me naked. It’s an awkward question to be asked, “Would you like a pat down or scan”. I asked which was less humiliating I was told that it’s not humiliating. Right if you are not the one having to have either. Then I told the security lady to choose for me. Pat me down or look at me naked?  Now who was the one feeling awkward? I don’t think she was expecting me to say that.  So twice before getting onto the plane I was patted down by two very nice ladies. I’m guessing my boobs were a security treat. The flight was fine going to Florida I got to stop in Chicago and see the outskirts of the city. It would have been nice to tour around the city of Al Capone. Maybe I could have found his family and got restitution for my Great Grandmothers dead dog?

Florida is a warm and welcoming place. I love it there. I would move to Florida in an instant just for the weather alone. Or anywhere it’s warm. I’m not picky just as long I don’t have to suffer through shoveling snow in sub-zero temperatures. The only thing though is my kids and I may be allergic to Florida. The first day we were there the boys got a rash. A strange rash that would come and go the days we were there. That was fun. The second day at Disney World my eyes started bugging me. I thought maybe I had been wearing my contacts too long. By the time I got back to the hotel I couldn’t stop rubbing my eyes. They were so itchy! The next day though was better I bought some allergy eye drops which helped. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to survive the rest of the trip. Funny the only time my eyes bothered me was when I was in Magic Kingdom. Could it be possible I am allergic to Disney World? I hope not!

 

The night before we were to go to Magic Kingdom my oldest son and I had a serious talk about dreams. He had a bad dream while there I did my best to console him and tell him that dreams are not real they are just imagination and they can’t come true. The next day we drive to Disney World and of course it says right underneath the sign, “Where Dreams Come True”. Poor kid! Now he’s going to think that scary crazed dogs are really going to come and attack him.

Coming home was sad. Both boys cried when we woke them up to leave. I cried a little on the inside too. It was back to life, reality and some seriously fucking cold weather but first we had to go to 2 other cities. Some where between Atlanta and Toronto our luggage was lost. Thanks Air Canada! You. Are. Awesome. In Atlanta our seats were not together so we got that fixed.  The flight attendant was going to leave me the job of telling the other passengers that they have new seats. Yeah, I don’t think so. That wasn’t going to happen. Luckily the other flight attendant told her that wasn’t the passengers job and to act professional. Take that lady!

Once we arrived in Toronto we see that our seats are all over the place. No one was sitting together. I would have enjoyed a break and felt sorry for the person who had to sit next to my 4-year-old if they hadn’t been able to change our seats but only a little bit. We had to get the seating changed. Air Canada really needs to get their shit together and maybe hire some new ticket agents because it’s really not my job to tell people, “Yes I am in your seat.” and, “No my 4-year-old isn’t going to sit on my lap for a 3 hour flight.”  Again not my job Air Canada!

We truly did have a great time and have many wonderful memories. Like going down Splash Mountain just one more time. Or almost having a heart attack on Space Mountain while my 6-year-old behind me is having the time of his life. Or seeing the world’s most active 4-year-old completely enthralled with and not moving an inch while watching the Finding Nemo play. You can’t pay for memories like that. Well, yes you can. You just have to pay an arm and a leg to get there but it’s worth the money. I loved every minute of it even if we came home completely sunburnt and with no luggage.

I Swear, You Swear, Crap We Need a Swear Jar

1 Feb

Before kids I swore, swore like a sailor. I still swear but not like I used to. Sometimes it’s needed. For example:  When you hit your head really, really hard at the library. Sometimes certain words cannot be withheld. Like the “F” word. I’m just saying.

So having a baby didn’t help my “potty mouth”. I figured I had time before he was old enough to understand to kick my dirty verbal habit. With certain things I’m not very disciplined so trying to stop swearing wasn’t easy. This proved so one morning when my oldest was about 2 years old. I remember that morning like it was just this morning.

Chris and I were getting ready for the day. I was sending our son off to daycare and myself to work.  I had given him some Cheerios with strawberries for breakfast. As I was getting his lunch ready I heard his little voice from the table say, “Too many fucking Cheerios.” Chris and I stopped what we were doing and looked at one another. Did we hear right? Did he just say what we thought he did?

I went over to the table to see what was up with his Cheerios. I sat down beside him and peered into his bowl as he was eating.  Apparently all those fucking Cheerios were getting in the way of his strawberries. At that point I probably thought I should be a little more careful with the words I use.

As I was trying to not swear as much around our son we had another incident. Chris had said something one day as we were heading out and because he had I made a point to tell our son to tell Chris not to say that. Well of course he says, “Don’t say shit-focks Daddy.” After that we were told by him that shit-focks was a bad word.

As I had mentioned before I still swear. Or should I say we, Chris and I. You’d think we would have improved with this not swearing thing by the time the second one came along. Well maybe just a little bit. Only because our son at this point was starting preschool and I didn’t want to have his teacher calling me due to my 3 year olds choice of language.

Our oldest son, thankfully, has learned not to copy us. But our youngest well that is another story. He decided that shitballs was a normal phrase especially when you put it together with Madagascar. Don’t ask me why, he just says it that way. In my defence he learned it from his father. Not the Madagascar part the shitballs part. Chris says it a lot when he plays video games.

It was recently that he picked up this phrase. We first heard it while he was jumping around, as usual, shouting: “Shitballs Madagascar! Shitballs! Madagascar!” While we try not to laugh, we try to deter him from saying it. Yet when we swear he comments that we are saying a bad word. But somehow, “Shitballs Madagascar” isn’t? This was especially true when he opened up his birthday card from his Aunt. He said, “Hey it’s Shitballs Madagascar!”

Maybe we need a swear jar.

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