know what?

The week did get better. And I love you all more for all the wonderful and hilarious comments left on that post. But in all seriousness, serious being something that I'm not known for, the week has been better.

Sure, the nap strike still continues, and the cats still poop with abandon but there has been no more human poop art and fur balls have not landed anywhere on the floor.

Those are both [very] good things.

The things that have made the week more bearable are small and varied, but big on impact.

(1) Bumper's "daycare" situation is working out much better than I expected.

Yes, she's on to me and she knows when we head down a certain street that we are going to Imelda's* house to "par-tah" [her words, not mine].

Today she told me I must stay and she threw a fit when I left. But when I returned, it turned out she calmed down soon after my departure and she did not torture Imelda's mom [too much].

* For now I will refer to her friend as Imelda because that girl loves shoes. I mean LOVES shoes. Her name is neither Imelda nor Marcos but damn, if she could own every pair of shoes in the world, this little lady would be very happy.

(2) On the way home from Imelda's house a large man was sleeping on a park bench. He looked like an outdoor city worker and he was sporting grey coveralls.

I noticed Bumper looking over at him as we rolled by. Out of the blue she announced "hippo nap!" and pointed at the man.

Damn that kid cracks me up. She nailed it.

I wish I had the camera - he did look like a napping hippo.

Those two simple things made for a better week [so far].

The only frustrating thing that is going on today is I don't have enough time to get everything done that I want to get done. Instead I have to prioritize [ewww... that sounds so responsible-like] and trust me, if I could delegate, I would.

There are about 100 posts knocking around in my noggin but haven't been able to make time to crank them out.

My time has been spent working [and having too much fun] over at The League of Maternal Justice . I'm not talking over there but I'm being all creative and fun.

Tonight I'm going to go through my photo archives to find good breast feeding photos to post. Read Mission #2 and find out why.

Come on, go on over and get yourself a button like this:

Or one like this snazzy little number:

And find out all about this:

Yes, you read that correctly: Breast Fest - got some? Than support them.

Oh yes it's Monday, it's definitely Monday

I hear ya' kid

I know it's Monday. So far today:

Went to the chiropractor's office and she was out sick. Office didn't phone me so I showed up for an appointment that wasn't going to happen.

Now, if I did that to them I'd have to pay 100% of the visit.

If they do it to me, I get a shrug of the shoulders and no promise of anything on the next visit.

You know what that means: I find a new chiropractor.

After shaking my head in disappointment (my back HURTS!), we went to the playground and got attacked by angry wasps. No bites but almost twisted my ankle escaping with Bumper.

Came home to two piles of hairballs. EWWWWWWW!

Oh and the same cats left me a shit surprize outside the litter box. Double EWWWWW!

And it gets better:

Bumper refuses to nap AND she decided I needed some poo art. No not pop art - poo art.

Damn lucky she is cute, that's all I can say on that.

Oh god, it's only 1:30 pm. I'm screwed.

right back at ya' kitty

Oh and that whole issue with Facebook not allowing photos of breastfeeding.

Yeah, well screw you Facebook, I'm joining The League of Maternal Justice - check it out now!

Go and get your button (designed by yours truly):

It can only get better, right?

btw - I approved an extra episode of *shiver* Dora the Distracter just to get this post up. I needed to vent. Please share, my misery loves company.

friday night ticks

I don't know which of these ticks me off more:

That I still having six loads of laundry to do, even after just doing six loads of laundry.

or

That I know the storyline of each and every episode of Dora the Distracter in detail. I waste space in the old memory box for these formulaic frolics just in case I need to convince Bumper that I'm watching along with her. Hell hath no fury than a toddler scorned so I must be on the ball and able to discuss plot at the drop of a hat, even if I'm doing house stuff or something on the computer.

Knowing the plots also helps me keep track of time (e.g. Dora just passed the gooey geyser, I have eight more minutes before I must sing the "we did it!" song).

This is the only way I want to find myself
drinking from a Dora cup

Anyone else ticked off out there?

double freak

This past Monday, a meteorite hit near a remote Peruvian village and locals started to complain of mystery illness brought on by a strange smell in the air. Police were sent and also got sick.

Didn't a Stephen King story start that way?

FREAKY!

The meteorite left a crater thirty meters (100 ft) wide and six meters deep (20-foot-deep).

I hope it didn't bring friends.

SECOND FREAKY THING!

Dude wakes up during own autopsy.

I'm not kidding. A man in Venezuela was in an accident, declared dead, taken to the morgue, and only when he started to bleed DURING the autopsy, did the doctors realize something was very wrong with their diagnosis.

I know that one is now in my top ten list of worst nightmares.

Sometimes the real news reads like a bad B movie script.

Back to regular programming later, when I will tell you how Bumper's first daycare experience went and if we were invited back (cue cliffhanger music NOW).

banjoes make me uneasy

What the heck was I thinking?

On Monday, I extracted from the VCR: a large fridge magnet, two dominoes, and what amounted to a full pad of those tiny sticky notes. I used tweezers to extract most of these items. We haven't used the VCR since the pre-baby years, it's old, dusty, and apparently a toddler magnet.

I should have known that all electronics with slots are toddler magnets.

Back in high school, I briefly dated this guy who's mom had surprized everyone by having another baby when he entered high school. I still think 15 years is a long time between kids but she was young, happily married, child taking off for university any day now, so wtf not? Anyhoo, at the time I was dating him, he had a little toddler sister.

Long story short, he thought that I could be romanced by watching Deliverance. Yes, Deliverance.

Skipping the obvious problem with that titbit of my tale and moving along to the toddlers and VCRs aspect:

So there I am with now established to be very weird kinda boyfriend watching a scene that scarred me for life, when all of the sudden the VCR spat the tape out. It spat it right out onto the floor to sit next to my jaw which had landed there right after the crossbow solved the squeal like a piggy problem.

could not bring self to use Deliverance photo, this will have to scare you

The tape would not play in the VCR and I had no issue with the movie being cut short (OMG! OMG! OMG! I knew right there and then that I was scarred for life) .

It turns out when they took the VCR in to be repaired, the repair men extracted two forks and part of a grilled cheese sandwich. Little sister todder was the only grilled cheese connoisseur in that family. That was enough to prove her guilty and a lock was installed on the sacred VCR.

Well for the first time in years, I wanted to play a tape in our old VCR. A sing along nursery rhyme VHS tape was given to Bumper by one of our neighbours of the senior variety.

That neighbour said her grandchildren were now too old to enjoy the tape and she thought Bumper might find it fun. Bumper was thrilled when she received the tape. Nice neighbour gave it directly to her thwarting any chances of me avoiding another possible toddler-addictive substance of little substance.

So after a useless adult versus toddler discussion where I obviously had the weaker argument, I went to use the decrepit VCR and of course couldn't get the tape inside the machine because of all the surprises that waited just beyond the flap.

During the object extraction, I was momentarily thrilled to find the dominoes. After all, I had been searching for those because they were missing from a very nice set but the sticky notes were annoying requiring tweezers, a flashlight, and twisted fingers.

Once I was actually able to insert the tape, the loudest non-food crunching noise came from inside the machine. The tape did not play and I know had a mad toddler on my hands.

So this brings me right back to my opening statement: what the hell was I thinking... when I said I'd take on two toddlers* tomorrow?

* I'm kidding the "what the hell was I thinking" statement only ran through my mind when the VCR incident happened.

A friend and I are going to try giving each other some relief by taking turns watching both the toddler girls during a day each week. The girls get along great, are the same age, and her girl is an angel [not just saying that if you are reading this - she is]. But OMG Bumper can be such a bad influence. My friend is so going to regret this or hate me [OMG please don't if you are reading this].

Think of me on Tuesday people, when I will be outnumbered by the Lilliputians for the first time ever.

Bionic Babble

Anybody out there watch EastEnders?

No? I'm actually a die-hard Corrie fan but sometimes I watch EE because there is always something saucy going on and it's so damn easy to catch up.

Actually I watch British Soaps more than American or (groan) Canadian offerings (IMO: consistently lame folks, we should just stick with comedy). British soaps tend to revolve around the working class yet have the sauciness of an American offering.

But I'm getting off topic...

Okay so if you watched EastEnders between 2000 and 2005 you would remember the character Zoe Slater (Her mum is Kat but she thought Kat was her sister and when she found out her sister was actually her mum she turned to prostitution but then came home and became engaged to the most boring but hot doctor ever and then when that story was too boring they dumped the doctor and ... oh you can read most Zoe Slater's sad but exciting history here).

ANYHOOO... I'm watching TV the other night and a commercial comes on for the retooled, revamped, remake of (the) Bionic Woman (what's next, Wonder Woman? maybe, maybe not).

Note the new show dropped "The" from the original show title, that makes it just like new! But I doubt it can be this groovy without the "The", check it:



Anyhoo... I'm watching the ad and I'm all like "Damn that looks like Zoe Slater from EastEnders but why would a Brit be playing the All-American Bionic Kick-Butt Woman?".

So I chalked it up to my eyes playing tricks on me.

Well it turns out I was right. Michelle Ryan is playing the Bionic Woman. I'm cool with that, I just can't wait to hear her accent.

Seriously though: Does anyone out there watch either Corrie or EastEnders?

*************************************

Moving right along but still talking bionic:


I wish I still had my Jaime Sommers doll AND that kid down the street's Steve Austin doll.

They were a really hot couple (the dolls, not me and the kid down the street).

Anyone else out there make their dolls date Steve or GI Joe?

I'll admit it, my dolls totally got around.

Sometimes my girls even got lucky with Han (yummy).

*************************************

Now this leads me to the next section which I think any girl who grew up in the 70s would think is cool. Anyone have one of these?

I still really want this toy (click to enlarge) - I never got to see it in action but damn, it's how many years later and I'd still like to check it out:

How can I resist the urge to insert the
Bionic Activator Card(!) and turn some crank(!)?

*************************************

Oh and I couldn't let this one slip by undetected: I like to call this "5 ways to piss off motherbumper"

1. Write an article with an antiquated, assholian title.
2. Put the onus on me, because it couldn't possibly be a two way street.
   
3. Make sure you suggest scrabble dates for keeping it hot, because I know that makes many men hot.
   
4. Assume I compare my marriage to that of say... hmmm... Pink & BMX / tattoo shop owner guy or Ryan & Reese. I must say that I have always compared and measured the success of my marriage to most celebrity marriages. Most of those celebrity marriages are definitely my idea of a good role model for "until death do us part".
5. I don't know, maybe I'm overacting but damn that title and those links really pissed me off.

Read it for yourself. It's fluffy and benign but damn that title just steams me. Whatever.

double post day

That's how much I love you all, I'm posting again.

Actually, I just want to know if I've taken "comfort over fashion" just a little too far?

I'm on the left.

I'm lovin' my new muumuu though SB thinks it's more Little House than muumuu.

Whatever... it's freaking comfy and I'm cursing myself for not buying more (8 bucks well spent).

A good vice is hard to find

source

I'm so happy that Marilyn Manson has taken it upon himself to bring absinthe back into the US market.

I was just saying last week (while SB held my hair back after another night of drinking) how much I wish someone would produce absinthe for North America because there just isn't enough affordable vices to destroy more lives (though I must admit it was hard to understand what I was saying between heaves into the porcelain god).

Well I'm glad Mr. Manson has taken the initiative because I've been drinking pure wood grain alcohol to bring on my crazies but now I can just buy some of his hooch at the local still, I mean liquor store. Sweet!

No more paying Cousin Bobby-Joe exorbitant prices for my "make-me-blind" juice from the still behind his shack.

I bet Marilyn got involved with this venture because it's 66.6% alcohol. Who can resist the pull of Satan's numbers, not that little bundle of sunshine. Good luck on making it legal in the States dude.

OH - and damn it all the heck because it turns out I got hooked on chasing the dragon for the wrong reason.

If you have the same heroin dealers as me, it turns out that rapscallion has been ripping his customers off (WHA! a dishonest drug dealer?).

They have been selling catfish bait mixed with vinegar instead of street grade china white.

Damn it's hard to find a dependable and honest dealer these days.

What is the world coming to folks?

journey home

We are back.

It was a smooth trip home.

Minus the turbulence that happened again and again and again. And that tantrums that happened again and again and again.

Bumper was that child at the airport and that child on the plane but I don't care because she is an amazing girl. I've had tantrums like that. And I was 30 at the time, so I can totally understand.

Mind you I haven't thrown myself on the floor in front of the gate counter and demanded to get on the plane NOW! Or tried to run past the gate security on to a not-ready-for-boarding plane. Or demand cookies NOW! from the very understanding security guard who thankfully found it funny. As did the entire waiting lounge and nice airline staff. That actually made it survivable.

So yesterday, we were exhausted and to bed early after a whirlwind day of travelling.

Note to self: no more midday flights - too disruptive and makes child angry. Never do solo again.

Now I need down time for a day. Must catch up on SB time. Must go visiting. Scared to open bloglines. Must catch up with BB8. Must write a proper post. Don't even want to open email.

But you know I will hit the mail first, right after I tell you:

New review up for motherbumper's laboratory for Ryka athletic shoes and see a great contest where you can win a pair yourself (Ryka is giving away 50 a day until October).

Still DJ over at Cynical Dad's. Go and spill what your song would be if you revealed your inner exhibitionist.

So yes, we are back.

Where did Nana and Granddad go?

I miss you oh bloggysphere

We return to the big smoke tomorrow. As much as I miss you bloggysphere, I will miss the ocean just as much.

Bumper's screams for OCEAN! every day and can you blame the landlocked kid?


I'm guest DJ over at Cynical Dad's this week - check it out. Chag always cracks me up. Except when he makes me cry.


Talk to you all tomorrow night. I love you bloggysphere... did you even miss me just a bit? How's that for desperate lack of confidence.

the placeholder

Bumper and I have jumped ship and have decided to become full-fledged pirates.

We are hanging out by the ocean with my parents and deciding if the sailors life is really what we want.

I am on my Dad's desktop and having severe internet withdrawals. The Blogline-withdrawal shakes are enough to make me want to mainline a network cable.

Photos of my detox coming soon. We go shopping for parrots and ruffled shirts tomorrow.

Am I making any sense? No? Good, it wasn't meant to make sense.

I'm in my parent's basement looking at books I loved as a child while Bumper gets some sleep upstairs. Can you guess what one of my favorite book series was growing up?

For now go read my review of Girlology's latest offering: Hang-Ups, Hook-Ups, and Holding Out over at motherbumper's laboratory. It really is all you need to know about your body, sex, and dating (years after you needed to know it but if you have a little girl, it will help you prepare for puberty - cue sinister music now).

Y'arrrrrrrrr matey.

And fade to black.

I finally gave in

Bumper finally had her hair professionally cut this weekend, by a real hair stylist, in a real salon, in a real race car (not a real race car per se, but a race car nonetheless).

And she has a certificate, complete with first cut curl to prove it.

Actually, I kinda miss her before look, that look right there.

When I was in labour with Bump, during the pushing "fun times!" phase, the nurses, SB, and anyone else who had the chance to glance at my whoo-ha would say "that baby has some head of hair!".

Originally when organizing my birth plan and talking with the nurses, I had said no to having a mirror. To be completely honest (instead of the bundle of lies I usually feed you), my concern with having a mirror on my whoo-ha-ha was all ego talk. I was worried that I would become obsessed with how things looked down there instead of what was going on and staying in tune with my contractions.

Yet with each declaration about the hair, my decision to not sneak a peek crumbled to the temptation of seeing this burgeoning mane with my own eyes. The attending nurse offered to have someone get one and I eventually said yes.

A distraction was becoming more attractive as the pushing phase progressed, or should I say lack of progression.

I had been pushing for a long time - a really long time and there was very little baby-birthin' advancement going on. By the three and half hour mark, I knew we should be a lot closer. Bump hadn't moved very far in a really long time and all signs were pointing to stuck.

So every single time a person would talk about that hair, I wanted to see the baby instead of worrying about the time. No one else seemed concerned about how things were going and negative, worrisome thoughts had no place in this particular moment and soon to be memory (too late!).

I thought a lot about that hair, and the head that was attached to our baby instead of worrying about how long things were taking.

Turns out I was correct in my time concerns.

The mirror distraction never arrived but my doctor did. After a quick check of my status, doc informed us that a non-surgical manual method would be tried only once before beginning prep for a surgical one. Pushing had been going on too long without progression and although no one appeared in distress - yet - a section looked like the next step.

Thankfully the manual method worked (trust me kid, it hurt me just as much as it hurt you - maybe more) and Bump made her début.

She came out complete with the cutest little mullet you've ever seen.

What a good Canadian, eh? Hockey haircut from the get go.

Since she was born, her bangs have been cut twice by me and the rest has never been touched.

I love that hair, each curl that forms in the humid summer air, each strand that falls in her eyes.

But lately it looked messy regardless of brushing and styling. My latest attempt to trim her bangs resulted in a Ronnie meets New Wave/1980s look she couldn't really carry off ["oh mom", she would say if she could, "that's so twentieth century"].

So I gave in and took her for her first cut. Concerns about melt-downs, crying, and clinging - like our passport photo experience - were never realized and Bumper took her trim in stride.

No more mullet. The fringe is gone.

She has a hairstyle. It makes her look... well she looks tamer. Actually that's not it. She looks like a little girl.

I think we just closed another chapter in babyhood.

what? you've never seen a baby toddler drive before?

I can't believe it - there is not one photo of her smiling from this weekend without her wearing a hat. All the smiling photos from a wonderful birthday party we attended this weekend had Bumper wearing her hat. It figures this would be the first time she wears her hat for a prolonged period without the aid of double-sided tape (I kid!).