I love you too Desmond

Was that the best episode of Lost last night OR WHAT? Oh Desmond, I'll be your Penny and I looooooooove you too darling!

He has moved up to the top of my "I'm crushin' from Lost" list for sure.

Oh and recent additions to the data collection on "who would you do from Lost" experiment have resulted in a change in calculations, it will now result in Shaun Cassidy (you were so right mama bird diaries):

I actually had a subscription to Dynamite and remember this issue. But the arty album WASP? Uh no, that one never entered my collection. Shirtless pic? Yeah, that was in my locker even though I was more of Parker Stevens girl. Can't deny the lure of the cuter Cassidy. You just can't.

Keep your picks coming in for your lusting from Lost list - I feel that if we skew it just right, we might achieve Fisher Stevens and that would be so FREAKY!

Yes I realize this post is slightly lame and limping but I couldn't resist saying something about last night's episode (still drooling from information overload) AND I'm as sick as a freakin' dog. BUT I also have "some good news for me" to announce next week (NO I'm not pregnant like the rest of the western hemisphere) so I'll talk to you guys later.

Right now I'm going to stick my entire body in a vat of Vicks Vapor Rub which just isn't as kinky as it sounds.

And Bobita from Blooming Yaya is conducting a research survey of parenting bloggers for her PhD dissertation (that is so cool). I heard about this over at mothergoosemouse and took part last night. It didn't take long (maybe 10 minutes but of course depends on how you answer) and I think the research is very exciting (being a research junkie). If you have the time, why don't you lend a hand, you can find the link over at mothergoosemouse's blog. Cheers.

Obay: because I want to know

Now with nifty update! See below:

Yesterday while struggling in the wicked cold weather to keep a bundled-up toddler from getting lost in the public transit crowd, I saw my first Obay ad.

A camera would have been nice to have around - not that I would have been able to use it while trying to keep Bumper from bolting out of her seat on the bus, hold my bag, and I dunno, perform the basics like breathing. I can only imitate the farce of multi-tasking so much.

With fear of losing my grip on Bumper, I decided the best thing to do was memorize the ad to research later.

This is the one I saw (a public photo from The Obay Marketing Pool flickr group) but it was a smaller format inside the bus:
While no one around me on the bus seemed impressed by the ad (trust me, I asked), I was in awe.

Has anyone else out in the big, bad blogosphere noticed these ads and the reactions around them? I want to know.
Did they make you think?
Did you think they were silly or a joke?
Did you try to understand what they were "about"? I thought it was an ad for multi-vitamins at first glance. A really bad ad for multi-vitamins.

According to the Torontoist: the "maker" behind the fake drug Obay is Colleges Ontario and these ads were created in order to encourage dialogue about post-secondary education in Ontario and how some parents might be forcing their ambitions on their offspring.

My need to find out more is driving me crazy.

If anyone out there with links to stories about this please leave me a comment and link.

Odds are that Bumper will attend a post-secondary institution in this province so this subject is of great interest to me (whoa - she hasn't started nursery school yet, and I already have her building beer bongs with her fellow undergrads. Not that I ever did that.).

IMO, traditional ads turned upside-down and working outside the norm are dead sexy, but in order for them to work, the end result needs to equal or surpass the ingenuity of the campaign.

UPDATE: I received an email from my biggest fan (Hi Dad!) who found this and sent it my way. Quoted from the post Obay Phase Two Revealed (Torontoist):

"the Obay ads will be plastered with faux-guerilla marketing. The new stickers deliver messages to parents, such as, "Your kids should be allowed to make their own decisions, especially when it comes to their post-secondary education."

So this is what happens when you have a toddler to distract you from doing solid research: almost 40 years old and my Dad is still doing my homework.

Do we even have a "our song"?

So yesterday was a celebration of our love.

Don't worry, I'm gagging right along with you over that so very "not something motherbumper would say" opening statement. Romantic and squishy words do not roll of my tongue with ease. Fingers? mehn. It's a smidgen easier to type without giggling like an idiot.

Anyhow: SB and I celebrated our wedding anniversary yesterday with the usual romantic gestures we show for each other.

And after the hockey game, we watched the episode of Survivor taped last week.

SB - I really do love you more and more each day. And Wednesdays are double your points day so dude, I love you lots. That's all the mush I have to share folks.

And here are my offerings for my (per usual) not so Wordless Wednesday:

[inside he wrote "so far, so good xoxoxo" - that's my man]

the snow artist
next exhibit coming to a freezer near you

And in reaction to reading my "so far right, you end up right behind your husband" portion of yesterday's post "Don't trust the teens and the husband is always right", SB declared that I was doing a great job on the huge pile of dishes I was tackling last night (three days worth of filthy fun. I'm this close to putting on an apron, high-waisted sensible pants, and asking my doctor for some chill pills of the valium-type).

This little gem of positive reinforcement was declared while he watched the third period of the hockey game and drank our anniversary bottle of red. Would it be too much or not enough to stab him in the butt with a dirty fork?

Don't trust the teens and the husband is always right

When it comes to household crap, laundry is my albatross.

That sonab*tch hangs around me and is my burden to bear alone (most weeks). Bumper tries to help but truth be told, she can't sort whites from colours worth sh*t, and don't get me started on hot and cold loads. And SB comes on handy on the weekends but everyone and their uncle is in need of clean attire for date night, so that rarely pans out.

The best time to do laundry in this building is in the daytime - when it's me and the blue-hair brigade. Don't get me started on how much of a joy it was for me when the building switched from coin-operated to pass card machines. As far as I now understand: Technology is trying to kill the old and make them wear dirty clothing to meet their death. But I digress.

A small bonus of being the resident washer woman is the visits to the side room off the laundry. It has a few chairs, a table, and bookshelves full of left-behind treasures. People dump boxes of nicknacks worthy of yard sales and all sorts of good finds but mostly it consists of books and magazines.

Have I ever mentioned I'm a magazine-whore? I'll spare you the details, so let's put it this way: When a new stack of mags arrive in the laundry room I'm all over them like dirt on my kid. Free and recycled. I will recycle them too. What more do you need?

Last week, some new fodder arrived that I actually had never read before: Family Circle.

Sure, I've seen it in the doctor's waiting room but with a name like that, I dismissed it as matronly. So FC would hardly be my first choice, but this particular issue promised "No-Cook Dinners - Easy! 15-Minute Meals".

With dreams of food that required no cooking and still resulted in sustenance for her family, motherbumper yelled "Sold!" (Editor's Note: exclamation point required to match zeal behind original headline. Motherbumper is not that enthusiastic, even when something is free).

So I threw it on the clean clothes and trucked it upstairs to read at my leisure.

The recipes were nothing to write home about (I'll just keep serving them cereal) but I found the advice columns refreshingly scary. Nothing beats you over the head to other POVs than reading outside your norm.

Here's a slice:
(click to enlarge)
Synopsis: Sixteen year old son crashes at friend's house twice a week after band practice. It bugs mom because he is "living" at the other kids house and she wants to know what she should do to lessen the hours spent away.

So what advice is doled out? Alarm bells and the poor boy needs structure. I'll buy structure but alarm bells? The part that made me squirm: "... I think there are two likely explanations for his behavior. Either he's escaping your home because someone is making him feel unsafe, or he wants to drink or get high without having to deal with you."

Good Lord. How about asking him why he likes to hang out there so much? Maybe tell him what constitutes too much time and he will be okay with that. Maybe you can have a conversation about it and everything will be okay.

Maybe he just hates his mom's cooking and his friend has a hot sister.

Next came this perfectly normal request for assvice advice:
(click to enlarge - that's what she said)

Synopsis: Husband is sloppy and he thinks she should pick up after him. What can she do to get him "to do a better job" to cut down on cleaning?

Advice: if you treat him like your toddler you might get some positive results. That "Good Job!" praise annoys my toddler so I can only imagine what it would do to a full grown adult. Actually, I've seen this done to friend's spouses and it ain't pretty. It pisses the husband off - unless he is whipped and then this question would be moot because the house would be clean.

Also suggested? Maybe YOU have set the bar too high. Hmmmmm... well okay, I understand the "it's me, not you" theory. I would have preferred to read a suggestion along the lines of healthy adult discussion that results in compromise but whatever.

I seriously let that one slide until I read the last statement: "Or you'll learn to live with it, which wouldn't be such a bad outcome for you or your marriage."

Translation: If he doesn't shape up, lay down and modify all opinions, beliefs, and standards to that of husband. It will save your marriage. Next level: move to Stepford.

Oh my, motherbumper's head hurts. I really must go back to censoring my reading materials. This step on the super-duper, so far right that it's right behind your husband, conservative side scared the crap outta me*.

* don't think the (morrisette-like) irony escapes me: I'm a mom who does all the laundry but trust me, if we had 24 hour laundry, he'd be doing his own. I'm very grudgingly the laundry b*tch around here.

Also, I have a had an episodic brain meld of the Spelling variety and since I firmly trust these ladies to be correct: I was wrong about the "curse of the mermaid 90210 dress" - it was Kelly's slutty vampy temptress costume that led to near molestation while Donna's mermaid costume was just a wardrobe malfunction. Thank you mac and cheese and Ali. I know that if I was ever stranded on a deserted island with those two ladies and there was satellite tv, there would be no fighting over what to watch.

I look good in gold

My back is in need of rest and repair. Gah - it hasn't felt this way in months. My spine is wound tighter than Laura Linney's Oscar dress. Speaking of Oscar:

Last night I did something I wanted to do for a long time, I blogged something live. Cynical Dad was crazy nice enough to share his space with me for the Oscars.

The red carpet portion was pretty much all mine and while it was disappointing to miss some of the big names because they all arrived fashionably late (Depp? I didn't see Depp until the show started, where was my Cate? Oh it was so frustrating), I did get to see Mylie Cyrus.

Wait a second: Please explain to me how SHE got invited and given the job of presenter. I was still reeling from the Rocks presentation (The Rock? Rock?) and I just about chocked on my chicken leg when Mylie got up to hand out an award.

Was this Oscar show thrown together last minute OR WHAT? Was everyone really that busy last night that those two insignificant bleeps on the entertainment radar got to hand out statues?

Needless to say I passed out just after the French fish woman took best supporting actress (am I alone in hating that dress?: too many "90210 Donna goes to frat Hallowe'en party as a mermaid and gets molested" flashbacks for me to even give it half a chance).

So far from reading the recaps this morning, I know that I must find out what the "bad" Harrison Ford joke was all about. And I must drool of Javiar some more.

Good golly, is it just me or was most of the script for the show god awful? Obviously the improv skill of most of today's Hollywood is very VERY rusty.

Why did I pass out so horrifically early and leave Cynical Dad to cover the rest? Because I spent a huge chunk of Sunday on a long drive home from a quick family visit home (to celebrate new baby in family! mmmmmmmmm new baby) and while the drive was manageable, the vomiting toddler in the back seat was not.

It scares me to listen to her hurling while I'm flying down, I mean, driving leisurely down the road, looking for a space to stop without being crushed by an 18-wheeler. Aren't you jealous of all the fun? And the fun doesn't stop there - try cleaning out the rental car in record time before the return deadline. Driving around town with windows cranked down in Arctic weather - FUN TIMES.

So why did I do Oscar coverage live after a day like that? Because I wanted to do it dammit! I love making fun of celebrities, it's in my blood. Sure I held back on being ruthless on someone else's blog but I'll have my talons out today as I read the recaps.

Despite passing out two nights in a row in a pretzel position which has my back screaming out in pain as I type this sentence (and explains the first complaint statement of this post), I will not regret my choice to blog live nor change that decision. The vomit? That would be the number one thing I would change from the weekend. Did you even need to ask?

So give me your Oscar two cents - I've got to catch up and find out who else won, who wore what, did Paris try to crash the party, and research remedies for motion sickness in toddlers. Woah, life doesn't get more exciting than this.

Oh and also I need to go read all the Toronto Blogger's blogs today. I missed a rocking party this weekend and need to know who went home with who, who left their baby in the coat check, and who drank who under the table. It always pans out that way. Please give me any good blackmail fodder if you were in attendance (did anyone even notice I wasn't there? *big sob*).

Are you lookin' at me?

Well if you are looking for me, I'm doing red carpet coverage of the Oscars over at Cynical Dads. Come on over and give your two cents.

And this is what I've learned about you

Last Friday I asked the all important, completely non-scientific, but fun to answer question:

"If you could hook-up with any Lost character, who would it be? "

My personal private hypothesis made me think I'd learn more about my readers by asking that question.

And I did.

First of all, I'm surprised that there was only one vote for Charlie (and this is why I adore Kyla, she has great taste - mmmmm musicians).

The petite gourmand listed Sawyer as her first choice but also thinks Desmond ain't to shabby (wink wink nudge nudge).

She also told me that the creepy looking dude who played Ethan Rom is Tom Cruise's cousin (thank you, trivia is one of my favorite pastimes - oh sweet lord, I'm such a nerd, why didn't I just say I also make tea cozies in my spare time?).

Ali questioned my sanity over the need to ask if Sawyer is delectably delightful. Yes, yes, I understand but you know, I was trying to be diplomatic.

Something Baby Blue and I are almost always of like mind (sometimes it gets scary, like when she dreams about liquid paper and I post about it the next day). Needless to say, SBB has Sawyer as her boot-knocking buddy.

Stimey is a sucker for accents, so Desmond would make her swooney.

Hey, informal survey: everyone who has the same weak kneed reaction at the sound of an accent other than their own, raise your hand.

Yes, that's what I thought. OK, you can all put down your hands now.

Note that Stimey also added that if Desmond is already being groped, she would be "content" with Sawyer. Content? Mmmm... I'm sure he'd leave you content

Now mama bird diaries voted for Jack. But this was based on him being Charlie from Party of Five (Editor Note: PoF? Po5? not sure of acronym, never watched it) as opposed to Jack because she doesn't watch Lost. So she is voting for Charlie, I mean Jack, wait... oh great, I'm confused.

Wait, Janet votes for Jack based on Jack being Charlie too.

Oh, I get it now: Jack as Charlie as Jack means Jack gets laid.

Now Bub and Pie made Jack (being Jack) her number one followed by Desmond and Sayid, who are apparently all very yummy. And I agree.

Jack by nomotherearth's own admission would probably be her suitor (because she claims to be square). (Editor's Note: uh? so not true). Despite the nonsense about sporting corners, she totally confesses to lusting after a nice portion of Sayid with a side order of Desmond

SciFi Dad didn't even blink and declared Juliette easy on the eyes.

Heather wouldn't kick Sayid, Sawyer, or Jack out of bed. But don't fret Desmond, Heather's taken notice now that so many ladies have said your name. Mrow. Oh yes, Desmond. She will be your Penny.

Now Victoria shouted out Jack but came right back to admit that based on her history, all signs point to Sawyer (trust me Victoria, I'm exactly the same).

My hero and girl crush, redneck mommy? Well I'm not surprised by her answer. Sayid or Sun can come by and eat cookies any ol' time.

Oh Mrs. Chicky, what does our pregnant mommy crave? She's growling at Sawyer (right on sister) and also Jin (I knew who she meant). I like her reason for Jin: there would be no wasted time with idle chit chat - no english, no red tape.

She also noted that she is turned off of Sayid after seeing him nearly naked. Apparently he was too bobble-head for her liking.

I think that it's kinda like man-hands. You just can't overlook something like that.

Oh and just in case you don't think I'm paying attention: Heather is pregnant too. Maybe that explains the possible thre*some in her daydreams.

Not a watcher of the show, but more than happy to vote: Chag proved to be a gentle and ladies man. As in: he isn't kicking too many of the ladies away (or Sawyer for that matter - Cynical Dad! You dog! I love it).

Lovely Lisa B would have had to share Sayid with redneck mommy but due to the same recent near nakedness of Sayid, she developed the "been there, done that, it's all about mountain dew" feeling. Word. (Editor Note: I bet it was the whole bobble-head thing.)

Mandy supports the trend: a pushover for the foreign guy - or more specifically - his accent. Desmond is getting LUCKY. Same for Sun [omg - I almost make a "the sun isn't going d*wn on" Elton John joke with out intending to mean ... well you know.. tee hee hee... I'm so easily amused].

Mama Tulip?: Desmond AND Naomi? (RAWR).

Izzy didn't cast a real vote but I'm pretty sure I have a hot date.

Lil'Debbie continued the stroking of my ego and made me feel all sunshine and rainbows about myself (as usual you sweet thang).

Russ admits to not being up to speed but that didn't prevent votes for Kate and Sun.

And when it comes to For a different kind of girl, Desmond just has to whistle, or say "brotha" or "Penny" or just breathe for that matter. Mmmmmm haggis is on the menu tonight.

Anyhow. What did I learn by asking you this question?

Well based on my calculations:

As you can see my hypothesis has been proven:

You are a bunch of horny devils that watch too much television. And most of you will also be able to identify either Leif Garrett or the "where's the beef" lady at 50 paces.

That is the reason that I love almost all of you guys - even the ones who didn't vote. I totally know what you do in your spare time.

If I missed anyone, leave me a note - I'd hate to leave you out of the fun and who knows, you might change my calculations to Cheryl Tiegs. It can happen.

Have a great weekend y'all!

Liquid Paper: Use #43 and 40,000 question marks

Does anyone even use Liquid Paper anymore? Not important. Moving right along:

You know how random memories from childhood sometimes just pop right into the ol' noggin and you are like POW! that was crazy and totally disconnected from anything in my current reality (as tenuous as that may be).

And then you think: I need to remember that random-batshit memory so when I'm old there is something to say Senior's Bingo besides: my bunions hurt and my gawd! what is with these haemorrhoids? Piles? More like landfills! And what's with this weather?

So what to do with these single-serving, snack-size memories?

Why write it down and publish it on your blog!

Isn't that what blogging is all about? Brain dump for future reference? Or is it to find more like-minded and equally traumatized folk to lean on?

What? We're supposed to be swapping recipes? Gawddamnit, I got in the wrong line AGAIN!

Back to the post:

Sometime in the 80's, motherbumper's tenth grade homeroom

The girl who sat behind me in homeroom, who's name totally escapes me but I can lay bets it was either Tammy or Mary, would use her super shiny ruler as a mirror and paint all her visible teeth with liquid paper.

It was really freaky looking. Kinda like glow in the dark fake teeth with a white-washed wood panelling finish.

In order to preserve the look, she would then proceed to sit there with a super goofy look on her face to let dry. Kinda like when you dry off your teeth and push your upper lip over so it sticks to your gum and you look all Gomer Pyle.

We were in the far side (in more ways you can imagine) classroom row, against the hallway wall and I would sit sideways, watching the paint dry, and marvelling at the fact that if that was me painting my pearly whites, Sister Mary Margaret would be yelling "Mary Catherine Motherbumper! Get that goop off your teeth!". Sister Mary Margaret never said anything to bad-ass girl.

I never got away with anything (total lie but it seemed that way to my fifteen year old self).

And that's the end of the random brain fart memory. There is absolutely no story around the girl and her liquid paper teeth.

Actually the only other thing I can remember about her is:

Her parents sent her to my school because she was a total bad ass and they wanted to punish her with religion. Yup, we are here to reform! About a third of my class at the Catholic high school was there for that exact reason - punishment for being bad. I'm not sure why. It' s not like it was a Magdalene Asylum or something (though that might explain my hatred of laundry).

Actually hanging with the reform kids was pretty good. We had some really fun little get-togethers. And by fun get togethers, I mean all weekend debauchery, thrown by totally out of control and resentful kids with absent rich parents. Kids who had absolutely no sense of responsibility which is fun. Really freakin' fun as long as it wasn't my home or family.

What ever possessed a group of parents and administrators to think that sending all the bad girls to our school as punishment was a good idea, really had no idea what kind of influence they were inflicting on the ready, willing, and now able. I'm just saying.

Anyhow, I'm also over at motherbumper's lab today reviewing what by far has been the best book I've been asked to read by the Parent Bloggers Network and that's no lie. The Sky Isn't Visible from Here is one powerful memoir - trust me on that one.

Just don't trust me with your silverware or fine linens.

Survivor and Two: not so different after all

Anyone out there watching Survivor Micronesia? I've got to say that there is some b-a-d hair going on on that "Fan" team. Those dudes need a mirror. The ladies are doing fine but the boys, well let's just say the salt-water is not being kind to them. Joel the Hulk looks like he's wearing a Hulk wig, Long-lost-Arquette, Mikey is channelling Elvis, and the Erik the ice-cream scooper (that is not a smart-ass quip by me, he really is an ice-cream scooper) is like Leif Garrett on acid.

Just my two cents. Otherwise the festivities are quite a snooze and HELLO, it's too early for a blind-side. Blind-sides must be executed with precision and it's far too early kids. Patience is a virtue.

Anyhow, patience is something lacking around these parts.

In the past week I have said the words "TWO is kicking my butt" about a zillion times. Give or take a billion. But seriously, that somewhat romantic but small number is making me curl up all fetal-like and cry.

I'm not sure how such a small number, encased in such a teeny-tiny armoured shell can be such a butt kicker but it is. And it is successfully bringing down two totally immature adults.

It has to be the number TWO that has possessed our child. TWO is mind numbing, yet we are in awe of it's super powers.
Our little lady could not possibly be behaving like every single freakin' event and action in the world is in exact opposition of her, which only can be corrected with brain-piercing screams, throwing of all objects not nailed down in close proximity, and general feral-behaviour. It must be TWO!

Yet thirty-odd seconds after the last scream has burrowed into my brain and the last glass has broken in the cupboard, we have our child back.

She is singing, butterflies flit around her head, small woodland creatures gather at her feet, everything is soft-lit, and all is right in the world. It usually happens right before (or immediately after) I snap and therefore this sudden switch in toddler-personality makes my reaction seem over-dramatic.

Yes, it's got to be me that's being over-dramatic.

Hell no, these days the Oscar definitely goes to Bumper for best non-approved stunts, best over-dramatic acting, and least original screenplay.

Motherbumper gives up. TWO wins.

Oh I know, you've heard or even experience this all before and it will pass. And something else will hijack my child and I will be begging TWO to come back in the most pathetic ways possible [post pending - approximate ETA: Bumper's 3rd birthday].

But the main reason that I record these days - these feelings of absolute defeat without the option to give-up - the main reason I write these thoughts down is for future reference.

I know that one day in the future 16 year old Bumper will bring home a tattooed, pierced, motorcycle-riding, odd-smelling boy of undetermined age and tells us "I will be home when I'm home, and NO! I will not tell you where I am going, and OMG, butt-out MOM".

Yes, I pretend that my child will say "butt-out" when she's a teenager, yet I am fully aware that my delusion of her escaping 'yar "curse of the potty-mouth" is slim to none.

Anyhow, when she brings this absolute winner of a (gag) boyfriend home: I will look back at TWO and I will laugh.

This post will be re-read and then I will uncork another bottle of tequila. And while balancing the salt shaker in the crook of my arm and grasping lemon slices with my free hand, I will remind myself that I once thought TWO was the hard days. Resume fetal position.

Weekly Winner Feb 17 2008

Time for this weeks Weekly Winners, and sporting a rare theme this week of Romance & Lingerie (kind of... well if you consider a drawer full of sensible things, pj bottoms, and equally sexy girl boxers, lingerie):

In the corner for Romance is:

Self-explanatory.


In the corner for Lingerie is:

The cat in my smalls drawer.


This is quite possibly the reason I have holes in all my stuff. Which is a relief because no one really wants to know the reason they have so many freakin' holes in their underroos is because of acid crotch.

Even though some folks might suspect it is due to some freaky reason like that and I suspect they aren't wrong.

I'm just saying.

And in the other corner of my traid that is neither Romance or Lingerie is Craftiness:


These hands were made for gluin' and that's just what they'll do!

And I've decided that many of you have similar and fantastic taste in picking up strangers on a deserted stranger as demonstrated in my Who would you hook up with from Lost unscientific and unofficial poll (which is ongoing, so go and leave me your answer). Most of you are like me which makes you most like equally insane as me, which is reassuring.

Very reassuring and explains a whole lotta stuff.

woo me with sleep and get Lost

Romance and Love in Bumperland consists of eating kick-butt Thai food from our favourite restaurant (so good they don't deliver, we must crawl to them and beg for scraps of manna), chocolates, and flowers for all the lovely ladies (mixed bouquet for Bumper, roses for me... stop laughing... I'm a lady). Cards were exchanged, kisses, and hugs endless and then we got down to business.

Oh get your head out of the bedroom, we watched Lost like normal people and promptly fell asleep. I don't mean to complain BUT OMG WHEN WILL SHE SLEEP PAST FIVE AM?

Sorry to shout, it's just so frustrating. Moving right along because sleep deprivation is so boring. Most of you are saying: "been there, done that" so...

Ever notice how Love and Lost have the same first two letters? Oh my, that's how addled my wee noggin' is... I'm making associations between the essence of what a person wants and a damn good show (I don't care if you don't get the new season, or wish it was going somewhere else - I want my Lost and am very thankful that the strike is over - even if it means less shows).

So on this Friday at the end of the week of romance and completely inspired by this post over at the Apathy Lounge (best name for a blog or what?) where the absolutely sexiness of Desmond is discussed in detail - I pose the question:

If you could hook-up with any Lost character, who would it be?

I'd like to know because I believe that it will tell me a lot about you. Play along in the comments. You can say just the name but if you want to say why - even better. Oh and don't restrict yourself to this list, I couldn't fit everyone one and totally welcome past characters. Which begs the question, are they really gone because OMG what is up with the island?

So to shake off your LostLoveMeters and give me the dets:

Here are some men of Lost: Sayid, Sawyer, Ben, Desmond, Jack, Locke, and Hurley


And the some women of Lost: Kate, Sun, Claire, Rose, Naomi, Juliet, and Rousseau.

Did you need to ask? Of course you did: I'm a Sawyer girl all the way (Jack is sooooooo square). But I'd probably end up with Ben and making googly-eyes at Naomi (this is fantasy world people).

the eyes have it

or "eyes of beholder"...

Not so Wordless Wednesday:


Yesterday's art project was one of our favourites. It went right up on the wall (toddler height as recommended by the toddler curator). This show is more solid than the macaroni and lentil installation from last week which had the potential to attract an unwanted crowds of the pesty kind. That show also ticked off the mom curator because picking that stuff up off the floor is a pain in the ars*.

Medium for this week's show: one bag of googly eyes, one glue stick, cardboard, and just to make you gag and think I've gone off the deep-end: a bucket of FUN! (who said that? That sounded like something a overachieving mom would say. Someone poke me with this pointy stick, okay?).

Tags: wordless-wednesday, wordless wednesday, toddler artwork, kids crafts

The Wingman Falleth Away

There are many sacrifices that the good parent submits to when opening heart and home to a child.

Notice how I said good parent. Oh do not let what I assume make an ass of you and me.

Speaking of butt (how's that for a segue?), the sacrifice I'm talking about today is bathroom privacy or lack there of.

I've had my little porcelain wingman for over 28 months. I'm proud to say she has never had to hold my hair back from over-indulgence. That's my husbands job and she's usually asleep by that time anyway.

Anyhow...

In the early days Bumper lay on a blanket in the hall floor, letting the cats sniff her while she lay helplessly, waiting for mom to do her business. It was a good arrangement. She couldn't see anything, do anything, or create any problems.

Then gawd dammit, at an early age (the kind most parents would record but I'm not that kind of parent) she started flipping like a pancake. Look at me! FLIP! I'm over here now. I thought I had months before that would happen. Big Sigh.

So the blanket wasn't enough. In retrospect it was, but being a nervous newbie, I was certain she would roll away, get stuck to one of my dirty base boards, someone would phone child services and I'd be featured on the local evening news as the mom who left her helpless infant stuck to a baseboard to succumb to the evils of dust bunnies the size of bison. Dramatic, n'est pas?

She really started to get too active for being a strapped down door lurker. So I brought her into the library bathroom, supplied books, toys, and lively discussion topics for entertainment during "business" and bathing.

It worked for a short time until she discovered a new place to put and wash toys. So I started setting up gates in the hall outside, blocking the commode, and created a baby corral if you will, and all was good in the world.

Then somebody taught her how to talk. Nice one Dad. And the questions started. What are you doing mommy? What's that mommy? Oh you know the ones I'm talking about. The ones you don't want to answer while trying to conduct a successful business meeting.

Oh, and did I tell you about the time she threw the toilet brush into the shower while I was getting clean? I won't forget it nor will my legs - because I scrubbed them with BLEACH!

But I won't bog you down with details you already know and have experienced yourself.

Lately my wingman has spent time standing in the doorway, talking or reading or running around but never allowing me to close the door completely. Noooooooo! Mommmm-meeee! No door close! Ever since having my hoohaw on display for all to see in that hospital room many moons ago, I've really tried hard to get over the entire privacy thing and begrudgingly left the door wide open for her - I guess as reassurance that I'll come back out.

So I was over the moon (actually I was pulling a moon at the time) when she recently announced that I'm too stinky and that I need to close the door. Sweet bathroom of mine, you and I can be alone once more!

Apparently smell is the last sense to develop because OMG she just noticed?

Update to the sleep situation here at Casa Bump: She woke up 5AM this morning folks - which is a vast improvement over 4:30. It's kind of like being tortured but instead of being left hanging upside down 24/7, your captor gives you a five minute breather between sessions. Yup, it's just like that.

I'm glad to be bad

That's what my daughter said to me last night while trying to get her to sleep.

Actually it went like this:

[cue Bumper jumping on bed, ignoring the silly demand from me to stop jumping on the bed and put on a diaper sometime this year]
While I appreciate the poetic rhythm, the word stupid makes me cringe.

Sure, stupid has it's place but to hear it come out of Bumper's mouth made me sit-up, drop the doritos, protest, and correct (after - unfortunately - laughing and repeating it out loud. Because oh my holy heck, what she said is totally funny).

But I protested not because Bumper was using the word correctly but because stupid is one of those stabby words and stabby words really hurt on all kinds of playgrounds. She needs to know that and I've decided it's banned in this household with the exception of political discussions.

Anyhow, before you go screaming "omg motherbumper, I can't believe you use that type of language around your child"... well you don't read this blog often, do you? because stupid should be the least of your concerns you can't blame me.

Yes you can. Hell, stupid is nothing. You should have heard what I said when I stubbed my toe on the doorframe yesterday. Now Bumper can easily make truck drivers and sailors blush or maybe even cry. Okay, so you can blame me but I didn't actually say it, so does that make it better?

She heard a young girl saying "stupid dog" in Toy Story and that irritating phrase remained in Bumper's guide book for weeks. I thought I had it out of circulation but noooooooooo, it's been republished and reformatted. Tonight she was cranky and "stupid" came back out to play. One step forward, three steps back.

Her crankiness comes after a streak of excellent sleep (unblogged for fear of cursing). The streak is over and all things related to rest, relaxation, routine and energetic feelings (I was just getting that feeling back) (sob) - well all of those wonderful things have been stolen by the little goblin named Grumper*.
*not to be confused with the toddler formerly known as V but completely related to - or possibly may be - Bumper. Security video tapes are being analysed by experts as this goes out.

Her sleep routine is so dependent on the cycles of the moon, position of Saturn, price of crude oil, flight patterns of butterflies, and all this must be factored with the percentage of mainstream medias "news" story involving either Britney, Lindsay, or Paris. When all of these factors come together with the right coordinates, we have good sleep patterns. This alignment is also known to allow Kristen the ability to change her template that I helped make bullet and blogger proof.

Do those requirements sound a wee bit complicated? Try living it.

The exhaustion is killin' us all. Combined with the cold (currently -18 with a windchill of -30 - where do we live, with Pingu?) I'm trying to convince the family to hibernate (yes, yes, I'm still on this pro-hibernation kick).

Yesterday and today our wake-up call has been 4:30am. The previous few days 5:30am. No naps on any of these days and bedtime takes forever. How can someone not love sleep? It boggles my mind.

I'm so glad that she so damn smart, mind-blowing, entertaining and charming
For those reasons, I can almost overlook the sleep deprivation and name calling

white out!

wtf? this wasn't here yesterday

Oh like we needed more snow, what's with this? 30 cm folks - that's around a foot of unexpected snow. Go away snow, you weren't invited and we have no food or drink for you! Get off my doorstep! Ummm how is a huge weather front somehow unexpected? Did it just appear on the radar or was someone sleeping at the weather channel?

Right now I'm debating making Bumper walk to gymnastics which could mean that I might be lugging back a 25+lb (who has to time to weigh a badger?) in my weak girly arms.

Yes, my arms are girly weak but my legs could kick your butt from here to Kalamazoo (been there, but not done that - it was our pitstop on the way to BlogHer last year and while I didn't kick any butt there, I may have smacked Something Baby Blue's because it was so irresistible)

Not that I'm threatening to kick you or anything... what did you say? are you talking to me? stop looking at me like that.... okay that's it, lie down so I can kick you.

Totally getting off topic. Actually I'm not because there is no topic today (can I admit that... admit that I'm just babbling because I love talking to you guys, no seriously.... can anyone say CABINFEVER? Yes, nomotherearth, I'm talking to you).

Things are very whirling dervish around here, spin, spin, spin, spin - which contrary to the way it sounds, doesn't keep you warm or count as exercise. Parking a bag of Doritos in front of a whirling dervish cancels out any hope of caloric burn. Oh yes, did I mention the dervish is parked in front of a laptop? And isn't really whirling but more like slumping. But you know, slumping dervish just doesn't have the same ring.

I'm here and there but not really out there, more like behind my lovelies at the League of Maternal Justice and my homies at MommyBlogsToronto. Confused? Don't be... I'm just babbling.

So here I sit, debating the walk to gymnastics with a toddler who woke up at 5:30 am. And debating only making it as far as the pharmacy to pick up the essentials: like Cadbury Easter Cream Eggs toilet paper and coffee cream.

My hibernation idea seems better and better as the weeks pass. Oh and I must express my relief that baseboard cleaning is waaaaaaaay down (if at all) on everyone's cleaning list. But seriously, those dust beasts are plotting something, I just know it.

my original party animal

Welcome to a kinda Wordless Wednesday.

Theme: Mardi Gras!

Bumper is getting ready for MARDI GRAS! To answer your question before you even ask (because at motherbumper, we anticipate your needs and desire for answers): Yes, she will flash you for cheap jewellery and chocolate chips.

It's not really a party until somebody gets nekkid and puts a lampshade on their head.


BTW - I'll flash in exchange for doing my laundry and cleaning my baseboards (which are beyond dusty, they now contain a microsociety of dust beasts that I sense are plotting against us... they just seem to ooze evil... and dust).

I'm off to ignore the growing (and possibly alive if I don't do something soon) pile of laundry and (really grotty) baseboards.

The party never stops here in motherbumper land!

The Toddler Cell

In an futile attempt to exhaust my tireless daughter, I forced Bumper to walk home from the library today. For the record: no nap, not even a whiff of one showed itself after the walk. Apparently I need to start dropping her farther from home. Cleveland, perhaps?

Anyhow, it's not like she needed any convincing, she loves her freedom. *sigh* Yes Dad, I carried her across the street. I figured the snow banks (albeit dirty) keep her from doing a runner on the two most important sides. Backwards? pfft - I can deal with that.

Yes, my little girl is a certified prison break expert and by golly, she will run like a greyhound. And just like a greyhound, she runs like some just screamed FREE CHOCOLATE - all done without ever looking back over her shoulder.

It's highly possible that she might only pull "the runner" with me and that might be related to the fact that she has been able to successfully take me down since she was 12 weeks old.

Also when she went v1.0 [mobility] - I have always chased when provoked. Perhaps I shouldn't have chased so much when this started happening. Yup, that woulda learn'd her real good. Good golly, the kid would probably still be in High Park living with the squirrels and peacocks if she had her way.

It's just Bumper's world is so alive and she is currently under the impression that it is all MINE! MINE! MINE!. She MUST run out and touch, test, and taste it all.

Before you all think I'm a hard-a** who doesn't recognize the beauty that abounds in Bumper's eyes - the snow! the trees! the dogs! the poop! Everything is amazing, as it should be! [I firmly believe everything that courses through a toddler's head is punctuated with exclamation points. Periods come with cynicism] - honestly, motherbumper is not a cynic who thinks every wonderfully crazy thing my amazing child does is punishment for the sins of my childhood.

I'm only like that 75% of the time. The other 25% is high in cholesterol and must be taken in small doses, lest you run the risk of od'ing on Hallmark-worthy platitudes and t-shirt worthy one-liners.

Frankly, I do drink up everything that can be glimpsed in her toddler world. Switching from parent to toddler mode requires a total mindf**k brain reset that, when found, is highly enjoyable. It's easy to find and lock into and very Zen-like (or so I imagine, never being one to actually have the pleasure of finding Zen. Nemo but no Zen.). It makes playtime fun, the mundane exciting, chores tolerable, and responsibility seem like something worth taking on.

Anyhow, being toddler with my toddler, well I must take advantage because when else would I get this opportunity? You know, to do it with ID and money.

Before I totally lose the brass ring symbolizing the actual point of this post (unless that was it, which it may have been) today Bumper taught me with a classic turn on, tune in, drop out style.

Being an adult always in a rush to get home allowed me to miss the music of the sculpture that stands in "our Narnia park". A set of large brass rings with brass shapes that hang off chains around a post. They make wind chime music in the wind (which would be the weather norm on that street). I've never stood around long enough to notice.

Bells Mommy! Bells!

Never heard them before and I know they aren't new.

It is stunning what you experience when making butt snow angels with the most amazing person you have ever met.

Don't forget to teach me everything, okay Bumper?

Weekly winners Feb 3 2008

It's time for weekly winners - thanks for hosting Sarcastic Mom!

It snowed all day Friday which made for hermit-like behaviour. Needless to say, once we had our trusty sherpa SB at our disposal, hikes through the snow to the library were in order.

It's hard to keep her on the sidewalk - snow too tempting, must soak pants, boots, mittens, MUST WALK IN SNOW!

In the park we always cut through to get to the library are some very Narnia like lamp-posts.

No White Witch sightings yet but I do get cravings for Turkish delight when walking past. Now that I think about it, I'll settle for a Big Turk.


The different grasses throughout the gardens make for interesting subjects when everything else is buried in the snow.


BTW - after soaking and screaming for a few more washes, Bumper no longer resembles Nolte. She is back to regular hair-programming, and gosh-darn-it her scalp looks wonderful.

hang in or is that ten?

One Toddler's Salute to Squiggy is still running until further notice.

Not by popular demand but due to the fact that having a child with "sensitive to all detergents, just like her freakin' mom" skin makes scrubbing her like on of those Exxon Valdez birds - well it makes it kinda hard.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Read about my adventures in grease from yesterday.

Wow - you read that fast.

Looking for more? Well I'm also over at The League of Maternal Justice with my NoMeatPoWeek roundup and post for The Parent Bloggers Network''s Blog Blast "Healthy Living - The Perennial Resolution". Check it out, there are some cool prizes to be won.

Oh and I'm in the laboratory talking all about dr. tea and The Ultimate Tea Diet - no really I am.

All this commuting is making me tired - have you seen the snow outside? Okay so I haven't had to go out into it per say but I have had to look out the window often.

And this whole greasy head toddler thing is kinda getting me down, not to mention it's making my laundry pile grow exponentially.

Well at least if I stick to my resolutions, I'm gonna get healthy and loose the muffin top.

But for now I'm gonna go blog surfing.

Later dudes, have a good weekend.