Archive for September, 2010

Arachnophobia – Alive and Well in My World

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A Week in Review

cross dressing

Image by art crimes via Flickr

A little warning to you all.  It can’t all be shits & giggles and I do have some upcoming posts that will be on more serious issues.  You may like my opinions, you may not, but seeing as its MY blog, I get to write whatever I want.  You, on the other hand, get to comment however you want.  I won’t delete your comments.  I love a good debate and don’t shy away from controversial subjects.  It makes the blood circulate to your brain when you are open to other people’s opinions.  Low and behold, every once in a while you, or I,  just might learn a thing or two or maybe even change our opinion when someone shares a perspective that we hadn’t thought of before.  It’s called “expanding your knowledge base”.  I don’t assume to know much of anything about anything in particular but I do have lots of opinions.  I can’t help it, I’m Irish after all!    

But for today, it’s still about the antics of my children.  And, while I haven’t had any entanglements with hair colour this week, or been attacked by blood sucking alien invaders, or sustained any concussions, broken toes or other such injuries, it has still as always been an interesting week.    

This week has seen the emergence of my 2-year-old son’s penchant for cross dressing.  I have caught him playing with my make up (several times) and  running around with his 3-year-old sister dressed up in princess gowns.  I have pictures (poor soul) for future bribery purposes and I guess I had better run out and try to gather up some boy-like costumes lest his poor father be scarred for life.    

I’ve also cleaned up a flood in my upstairs bathroom.  It would seem that my 3-year-old wanted to play “pool” with her Polly pockets.  As parents you always know that when things get too quiet its best to investigate.  I found her in the bathroom with water literally everywhere and her little Polly pockets having a grand ole time floating around in their newly found ocean.  Now I know that bathroom is going to have to undergo a full renovation.     

In the last several years I have had my share of run ins with glue and paint and have come to really dislike shows  like “Art Attack” or “Mr. Maker”  which put hairbrained craft ideas into my kids’ heads.  I try at all times to avoid any craft aisles whilst shopping with the kids.  Oh, at first I was excited to start the whole craft experience but when I realized the time involved and clean up required it didn’t take me long to realize that these were projects better left for playschool, kindergarten and primary school.     

A couple of years ago, in utter ignorance, I purchased several wood letters with the intention of having the kids paint them and put their names on their walls.  What was I thinking?  I had since come to my senses and hidden the letters away.  I’ll buy some prepainted letters, easy, breezy. However, my ingenious 6-year-old, who often gets her little sister to do her dirty work (smart kid) in order to deflect any possible repercussions, found these letters and set up shop with her little sister in my laundry room.    

By the time I realized what was happening, well, you can just imagine.  I will now need to replace the lino in my laundry room.  I hadn’t found the letters they were painting and have since been told that my 3-year-old stashed them under her sister’s bed.  Right now I am working up the courage to go and see what damage might have been done to my carpet.  I guess anything, even red paint, would likely be an improvement on this teal green carpet. but, please, I can only handle one renovation at a time.   

So, that’s my week in review.  I now wait with anxious trepidation to see what next week brings. One thing is for sure, it won’t be boring.  

My Foray Into the World of Colour

Komodo dragon, Varanus komodoensis (Ragunan Zo...

Image via Wikipedia

  

There are some things we just instinctively know we shouldn’t attempt, that bad things would happen if we even so much as tried to do them.  Things like bull fighting…yep, I just know that would end up badly or shark taming, can’t see a good ending to that one either.            

Oh, I’ve done some adventuresome things.  I’ve sky dived many times, scuba dived in the cold waters of the north pacific.  In Northeast Asia I shared my bed, and my meals for that matter, with cockroaches the size of small cats. I’ve used toiletless toilets. I’ve ridden marauding elephants (okay, not really but it sounds good doesn’t it?).  I did ride on the neck of an elephant but she was far from marauding. She did, however, have an affinity for trotting into the bush for food resulting in both us being covered in ants.  I’ve been mugged by monkeys.  Darn things stole all my peanuts! And, I’ve come face to face with a Komodo Dragon in its natural habitat (and walked away without filling my pants, thank you very much).            

But I have never, ever attempted to colour my own hair. Nope, some things just need to be left to the experts. However, my oldest daughter has been harassing me for months to put a stripe of colour in her hair.  Ah Ha! I thought slyly, who better to experiment on than some young innocent? Being somewhat on the frugal end of the spectrum, I decided that if we were going to embark on this adventure together that I would be attempting this feat myself.            

So off I went on the hunt for just the right colour.  Of course, it had to be something on the more outrageous side, preferably pink.  Wouldn’t you know it that 3 hours later with 10 stores behind me I still could not find anything other than the standard run of the mill hair colour.  Finally I found something called Punked Out but the only colour’s left were blue and purple.  I picked them up anticipating a battle on the home front when my daughter realized I could not find the colour she wanted but to my surprise she was so excited to colour her hair that she didn’t really care.   Whew!  if you knew my daughter you would understand my great relief over that reaction.            

I was smart enough to put on clothes that I wouldn’t worry about staining.  I, however, forgot to pick up the special brush required to administer the hair dye.  Ahhhh, I thought, I’m just doing a streak or 2 I’ll just use my fingers…smart right?  Uh, not so much really.  After a finger dip in the jar I soon realized that if I did not want to look like some mutant strain of the  Avatar species I’d better put on some rubber gloves.  Remember, I’ve never done this before.            

I carefully segregated the portion of my daughter’s hair I wanted to colour and with my fingers proceeded the spread the gooey stuff on her hair.  Of course, my 3-year-old had to get in on the action so while my oldest was sitting out her 15 minutes I got started on her.  While I had been smart enough to change my clothes, I hadn’t considered the girls’ clothes.  This blue and purple goop ended up everywhere.  All over their jammies, my floor rug, the countertop and them.  I left her to sit while I rinsed out my oldest girl’s hair only to realize that I didn’t leave it in long enough and had to completely redo it.            

After having turned the sink blue on the first rinse I came up with what I thought was a brilliant solution.  I would just strip them down, put them in the shower and wash it all off.  The trick was how to get their jammies off without doing any more damage.  Suffice it to say that they will not be wearing those jammies at any sleepovers ever again.  As my 3-year-old was the first ready to hit the shower, I stripped her down and tossed her in.  Now not only was I soaking wet but in addition to my blue floor rug, countertop and sink, I now had a blue shower and a little girl with stripes of blue running down her body.  I had inadvertently striped my daughter blue!  This was turning out to be a disaster!            

I had better luck with my oldest now that I knew I had to be extra careful washing the colour out her hair.  I was thinking this had better have been worth all this effort!             

I pulled the girl’s out of the shower and blow dried their hair only to find out that you could barely see the colour.  Oh, in the right light you can see a highlight of blue on their hair but you have to be looking really closely to see it.  The only real vibrant blue anywhere was my oldest daughter’s scalp.   The skin where she parts her hair was vivid blue!  How in the world was I going to hide that?  And this is a semi-permanent hair colour.  I have no idea how long it will take for the colour to wash out.            

So, this morning I strategically did my daughter’s hair to hide the blue streak on her scalp and sent her off to school hoping she didn’t endure any teasing.  She doesn’t do teasing well.            

I should have followed my instincts.  The next time I want to take a foray into the world of colour I’ll be calling in the experts!            

Rabbit Poop Anyone?

Child in high chair eating at dining room table.

Image via Wikipedia

This blog entry is not for the faint of heart.  I recommend a vomit bag, you know the kind that you can find in any airplane near you.  Seeing as we don’t all have airplane’s near us a plastic, disposable grocery bag or bowl of some sort will also do in a pinch.           

We all know that children have a habit of putting the most unpalatable items in their mouths.  My son though, takes the rabbit poop, so to speak.   If I could have entered him in an episode of “Fear Factor” we would have hands down been the winner of the bugs and food portion of the competition.            

This morning I watched him throw out a lollypop, only to realize that he was not going to get another one and head straight back to the garbage can, fish out the old one and pop it back in his mouth.               

Despite his affinity for putting items in his mouth that really don’t belong there, I never really needed to worry about the girl’s polly pockets or small Barbie accessories.  Nope, he didn’t go for that kind of stuff.  He wanted things he could REALLY sink his teeth into.  Things that he knew would get the reaction of utter mortification from his parents.  I mean, really, why chow down on a little Jimmy Choo when you had a garbage can full of coffee grounds at your disposal?  I of all people understand the allure of coffee.  It is without a doubt my all time favorite beverage.  If I had to be marooned on a deserted island my one must have would be coffee….but eating coffee grounds? He would grab them by the handful straight out of the garbage and, you guessed it, deposit them right into his mouth.  Have you ever tried cleaning coffee grounds out of a toddler’s mouth?                

 Ants are another plentiful resource in our backyard and a favorite food for our little guy.   While the idea of these little creepy crawlies meandering around the inside of my son’s mouth is none too pleasant, it certainly could have been worse.  He could have chosen spiders…..shiver….               

Then there was the time he decided to take a bite into a dishwasher tab.  Now THAT was just plain dangerous.  Poison Control Centre, here we come.  He threw up like he was a member of some elite military force using the power of vomit to disembowel his enemies.  But, in the end, that was a good thing.  Better that than the alternative and thankfully no damage was done.               

However, I would be remiss if I did not mention the granddaddy of all things that should NOT enter or even come within striking distance of anybody’s mouth.   Remember the aforementioned comment foreshadowing rabbit poop? Yes, you heard (or read) me right…..rabbit poop.   Our front yard is full of it and yes last summer when he was about 8 months old I saw him pick something up off the front lawn and watched as this little item made its way towards the orifice closest at hand, his mouth.  I felt as though I was in one of those movies, you know the kind, where everything pauses and moves into slow motion.  I can picture myself now slowly reaching out with my hand and mouthing the word “NNNNNOOOOO!!!!”.  I didn’t make it.  By the time I reached him he was joyfully rolling that little piece of poo all around  his mouth.  I had to resist the urge to run him in the house and rinse his mouth out with bleach or make him swallow a bottle of Purell.              

At least I now have some ammunition.  When he comes home with that girlfriend I really don’t approve of, well, let’s just say that she and I will be sitting ourselves down to have a little chat about rabbit poop.               

Motherhood – A Dangerous Occupation

Has anybody ever sat down and really thought of the dangers of motherhood?  The injuries we sustain, never mind the mental deprivation we suffer is really quite significant.  In my short 7 years in this gig I have suffered untold numbers of injuries as a direct result of motherhood. 

There should be some sort of work place injury claim that we mothers, and fathers for that matter, should be entitled to.  The injuries sustained from tripping and falling over toys is a given to any parent but occasionally you have a couple of really good doozies that warrant a little extra mention.

The first one, that I can remember (being that motherhood also results in mental incapacities and memory loss), happened about a year ago.  I had the misfortune of having a very sassy 2 year old little girl…shocking, I know.  Ohhh, I was mad.  Couldn’t tell you now why exactly but flames were shooting out my nose, my eye’s were red as hot coals and my ears were spouting steam!  Wish I had a picture of that expression (or maybe I’m just as glad I don’t).  Fittingly,  it wasn’t too far off from Halloween!  On top of whatever it was that she’d done, she adamantly refused to go to her room for a time out.  Leaving it up to me to provide her a direct escort.   The only problem is that she wasn’t moving and I was.  My foot made contact with her tiny little ankle and I was stopped in my tracks by a stabbing pain.  I looked down to find her tiny little heel wedged between my 4th toe and my pinky toe and my pinky toe sticking straight out at a 90 degree angle.  I promptly popped that toe back in place, hauled her up to her room and collapsed in a heap.  Who’da thought breaking a pinky toe could be so darned painful? In retrospect, I’m not entirely sure the time-out was worth the broken toe.

More recently, the stairs and I got a little better acquainted.  No idea what happened.  We’ve all done it though.  Somehow while going down the stairs our feet happen to slip out from under us and down we go. Usually we have the benefit breaking our fall but this time I happened to be holding my 18 month old baby  boy.  The Canadian Olympic Dive Team would have been proud.  They just might have offered me a spot on their next competition.  The twists and turns, all in an attempt to avoid my little guy from being the one to make contact with those pesky stairs, really were world class.  The bruise could have been documented in the Guinness Book of World Records and I was stiff and sore for MONTHS!  But, my son was uninjured and I never even received an honourable mention. 

Then just the other day I was doing my motherly duty fighting off the attacks of various species of war mongering, violent monsters when 2 of them (together weighing in excess of 90 pounds) landed squarely on my head!  With my brute strength, prowess and uncanny intelligence, I managed to defeat and obliterate the enemy (okay, okay, they cleared the area when I started whimpering like a little baby).  I am positive they gave me a mild concussion.  It’s about 5 days later and I still have a headache.

Who would have ever thought that motherhood would turn out to be such a dangerous occupation?

WHAT? Viagra? Whose little Brainstorm was THAT?

viagra is a commercial produced medicine conta...

Image via Wikipedia

Just when we women thought we had a little something to look forward to in our old age (namely, impudence) some scientist had to ruin it all and come up with a little pill called Viagra. On top of that they keep coming up with other products to stimulate the whole romp in the bed thing. Did anybody ever think to ask US whether or not we wanted some drug to put our men back on the prowl? We women really don’t need any more encouragement for our men, thank you very much.

Really, we were doing just fine before that little brainstorm. Why couldn’t they have come up with something a little more useful? I would have much preferred the invention of an automatic laundry folder.

Nothing personal here guys but really after we’ve popped out the kids and are now relegated to spending our days cleaning up somebody else’s bodily functions on little to no sleep, sex is the furthest thing from our minds. Look, the deed is done and the mission is accomplished so we can shut down the factory and clamp up the pipes!

It’s just another something somebody wants from us, another mess to clean up after and another obstacle in our pursuit of an early night. You just KNOW it wasn’t a woman who invented this little product.

Let’s implore these scientists to start working towards something a little more in line with what we women want. If we have to stimulate anything, can we stimulate the use of laundry baskets? Maybe we can develop a drug that would encourage cleaning???? Or, a little something we can slip in their evening beer that would “de-stimulate”.

Really, where were we women in the thought process of this product? Oh yeah, we were cooking, cleaning, changing diapers, breaking up fights, doing laundry, making lunches, helping with homework, chauffuering to various events, volunteering at school and out of school activities, making Dr. and dentist appointments, scheduling haircuts and cleaning up dog poo. Whew! I feel like a little activity in the love den now…..NOT!

Well, Baby, Baby.

My baby turned 2 today. Not sure how I feel about that just yet. On one hand I am thrilled to be one day closer to being diaper free (whoot! whoot!). On the other hand….my BABY turned 2!

I’m the first to jump in, if it hasn’t become painfully obvious just yet, and blabber on about the trials and tribulations of motherhood. A more difficult job you will never find. On top of that we mother’s have to listen to everybody else tell us how we should be raising our kids and what disciplinary techniques we should employ (in comes Nanny 911). I have a dear friend who will appreciate THIS reference – HI’YA CL! There really is no more thankless and underappreciated job than motherhood. But, there is a reward, besides that of seeing our children grow into self-supporting, respectful adults. It’s a reward that will be a long time coming but when it comes it will be SWEET! “Mom, you were right. Mom, how’d you DO it?”. I know this because its the reward my Mom received when I had my own children.

There is some mourning in seeing my son reach the milestone age of 2. I’ll never bring another little newborn baby home again. I’ll never feel that soft little body melding into mine. I’ll never again experience that first real smile or that first real hug or those first steps. Call me wierd but I loved watching all my babies poo. It was like watching playdoh being squeezed through a mold. Kinda cool!

On the other hand, I will never miss childbirth, afterbirth, beforebirth or any other event including the word “birth”. I won’t miss my uterus frantically trying in vain to return to its normal size. Neither will I miss the pelvic exercises and desperate attempts to not pee myself while my bladder returns to its former shape.

I guess you could say it’s a bittersweet occasion but really there’s a whole lot more sweetness than bitterness. I’ve got years left to watch him grow and mature. It’s been a real journey up to this point and I am looking forward to the journey ahead of me and of him.

First though, I have to survive a little thing called potty training!

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