King Boo

So remember a while back when I called double dating online playing Guitar Hero was the ultimate in nerdiness?

And also I said in the same post that I'd be lying if I hadn't considered doing it before laughing my hole off.

Yah. Um. Considered it. Did it. Now I don't want to stop.

OK - so it's not Guitar Hero but all the same...

Damn you Mario Karts. DAMN YOU.

Damn you couple we know who loves to play as much as we do. DAMN YOU.

Wait - that's not nice to damn friends, is it?

I'm really not the expert considering I spend all my time in front of the video games instead of the real live friends. You know who actually have to be in the same room, nay - city as me. But whatever. I need to consult Miss Manners on this one.

Anyhow - like I have time for this new addiction.

I don't but since we picked up damnable Mario and his driving buddies at the release this past Sunday (omg that just screams nerd) , I can't stop playing.

Long after my bedtime, I'm found racing around the Flower Circuit and saying "just one more race". It comes with a wheel folks, a wheel - and I drive it like a tractor for some unexplainable reason - a tractor (wtf is up with that?).

Such a nerd... such a horrible horrible nerd girl I am.

And yes, King Boo is my favoured race character.

Anyhow, I've pledged to myself to save all my bloggy related time stuff for the evenings save for important emails (and reading gossip because that can be classified as stress relief - celebrity news makes me feel very normal - and it's also research, I need to understand the new 90210 dynamic ya'll).

Before I just grabbed as many online moments as I could during the day but nah, this new approach of waiting to the end of the day makes life less stressful.

It also means I'm not visiting more than a few blogs a night which sucks because I feel completely out of touch. Ack. What else is new?

And in a really weird way I feel guilty for not going out and visiting much this past week and instead taking the time to chill and hang out with family. How f**ked is that? I think I may be addicted (hey, maybe I can have someone stage an intervention and it will turn into a party).

Now that would be cool.

I'll get over it.

And fade to black on babble.

VIVA THE PARTY!

Did you figure out what was going on yesterday? Good.

So if you are going to BlogHer San Francisco and are looking for something to do the night before BlogHer officially kicks off , why don't you join to The People's Party?

You like people, right? Everyone likes people (well I do at least 59% 95% of the time).

Incidentally, the night of The People's Party is also officially known as the eve of motherbumper's birthday and by coming to this party you are off the hook for buying me birthday booze. How freakin' convenient is that?

So here are the details:

The People's Party
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Eight O'Clock
The Elizabethan Room
The Westin, San Francisco

AND The People's Party is brought to you by:

Izzy
The Bloggess
One Plus Two
Velveteen Mind
Oh, The Joys
and me, motherbumper (surprise!)

AND the fine folks who are helping prevent the kind of celebrations that include paper cups filled with warm fruit punch, Izzy's eight-track player, and really lame limp balloon decorations and instead are allowing us to offer drinks (!), deejay to spin tunes, and swagaramma (yes free stuff and door prizes for the people! VIVA THE PEOPLE!) - well those wonderful things are care of these fine folks:






So you can RSVP over at The Velveteen Mind (she is the fact checker and member of the socialist party - not really in case any government agencies are listening in).

I can say with complete honesty that if you are going to BlogHer that I really want to see you at the People's Party (you are people right? no automated bots allowed).

Oh and in case all this wasn't attractive enough - check this out:

Appearing at The People's Party:

VIVA LA BLOGGESS!

So..... you in?

Teaser #2

I know it's Monday morning (well at least for another hour or so in my books) and maybe your brain is feeling kinda fuzzy. Maybe it needs a bit of a work out to get you ready for the week ahead. That dreaded, long, torturous week that stretches so long sometimes before the next weekend comes (or is that just me?).

Anyhow:

Just start here at Teaser #1 (if you haven't already been there) and then just like the tease that I was accused of more times in the past than I care to count... here is Teaser #2:


Now go to Teaser #3 to find out what's next.

And after that go to Teaser #4 and you'll see a pattern.

See? Look, it's Teaser #5!.

And then... (that's right... drumroll please....) Teaser #6.

Got it? Good.

Oh and I didn't forget my usual injection for Monday Mornings: Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

And right now sexy open shirt Chuck is waiting for you to go to the next Teaser.

A day in the life: wrapped up in three acts

Act One:

Bumper and I watched a two minute claymation movie in the afternoon called Greed. Greed is about world hunger and features chilly facts like how there is enough food for everyone yet despite this, someone dies of malnutrition every three seconds.

The film was created and directed by eleven year old Saskia van Es of Toronto and she won the young filmmakers'showcase Sprocket for best film, Grade 3 to 6.

When I was eleven, I did a project on clouds and glued lots of cotton balls to some blue bristol board and thought computers were something akin to robots from outer space. I may have received a honourable mention for a short story in the local library contest but no national awards for a short film that I made. So apparently I sucked as a kid.

Seriously though, great message in the film and she should be proud of her work.

And I couldn't find a still for her movie so I added my favourite claymation star from back in the day. Oh Mr. Bill, how I love thee.

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

Act Two:

Watched part of the National Geographic show, Strange Days on Planet Earth on PBS with Ed Norton. Since I came in mid show, I couldn't for the life of me figure out who the voice over was (why it's Tyler Durden's narrator) but due to my general malaise about most things, I was far too lazy to check the INFO button on the remote.

You know, I don't really remember life before digital cable.

How sad is that? Not that sad actually, I love digital cable and I cannot lie. Strangely enough, I also like big butts.

Anyhow, eight zillion channels of mind-numbing nothingness was a life long goal that started as a small and seemingly impossible dream for me back in the 1970s.

Oh those Saturday morning cartoons that once made my weekends so incredibly unique and special. I remember how I dreamed and oft wished out loud "TV should be like this all the time". Careful what you wish for kids. There can be too much of a good thing (though my tv zombie-half begs to differ: "garg, drool, I beg to differ - pass the cheetos and stop bogarting the remote").

Anyhow: back to edumecational television. This particular episode was about the plastic vortex of the middle of the Pacific (couldn't find a clip from the show, so deal with Lauer and his bubbly morning persona, s'alright). A big swirling soup of shredded plastic pollution some as small as plankton (as in "easy to ingest by marine life") and also concentrated enough to be visible to anyone passing by. The impact is unbelievable. Anyhow, I was blown away at this horrific plastic pollution situation that we are in.

Not surprised that this particularly widespread, completely alarming, unbelievably permeating gross example of rampant pollution exists.

It's kind of like being a life long sun worshipper that dismissed everyone's concerns and warnings about the known harmful effects and then discovering a cancerous melanoma the size of Texas is on your ass. And being surprised.

Now I'm thoroughly depressed. Awesome.

But I won't give up though on saving this here planet. We all must do our part to make a difference and lessen our impact in all aspects of living on Earth (even those large contributors: aka the corporations need to do their part to clean up. Oh wait, social responsibility is not their number one goal, making a profit is their singular number one goal because it's what the share holders want. What a vicious and greedy circle surrounds us). Big sigh, I digress and step off my wobbly soap box for now. Don't need anyone crying in despair after reading my post.

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

Act Three:

Bumper wakes up just before my bedtime, wailing "Mommeeeeeeeeeee I wanna snaaaaaaack" which I now know translates to "get me a glass of water... NOW".

Strangely enough, she does know the difference between food and drink but for some reason, when woken by incredible thirst in the middle of a wonderful slumber (just like me, sucker poor kid) she yells for food.

Kinda like when I get woken up in the middle of the night for unknown reasons I yell out "Not Guilty, Your Honour".

She dreams of glorious snacks, I dream of maintaining my freedom.

And fade to black.

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

OK, so I'm not always my cheery clown self but how can I be when I obvious failed at achieving anything significant in childhood, and helped contribute to the big plastic vortex? Add that to missing ANTM in Rome last night, and I suck large. Thank gawd for that digital recorder or I would be screwed. But now I must avoid all ANTM chatter all day, and probably tomorrow because droolicious LOST is on tonight. Fun times.

Somebody pause the world so I can catch up on my tv watching, eh?

So if you are looking for something lighter from me: how about some gossip about Heather Mills and her alleged former professional days? Come on over and visit me and those fine ladies over at Binkywood.

In a boundry country

Bumper has really increased the usual testing of the boundaries lately. Like by about 1000%. Give or take 17%.

For instance in the food arena, offers of her favourite hummus result in her taking a mouth full of water and what possibly what might have been a covertly chewed crayon (still can't crack that wax habit) and spitting (!) it into the recently opened tub of chick pea delight.

This was followed by a slap shot of her plate onto the floor. Then a request for more falafel and hummus, the recently flooded and flying food.

Since I cannot deny this is my kid - basically because we are home alone and there is no one else to blame - I do what any average parent does, I burst into tears hold back the urge to yell and speak in an even voice, simply explaining that this behaviour is not acceptable then this is followed with pleas for the return of your other child, the one who smiles, says thank you mommy when served her meal, and eats without too much fuss then I ask her to help clean up and we move on. So far it's being met with mediocre success.

Success is considered achieved if I can get her to help clean up the mess in any part and failure would be something like... say, her throwing a full glass of liquid anything at me.

The most recent (yes, multiple incidents - it's like she's practicing to be a diva and I'm her lover scorned) was thrown while I was standing near my lifeline laptop (near accounts for 1/3 of our living space - our type of apartment dwelling falls under the real estate code descriptor of "cozy"). She wailed with laughter and scout's honour, I wasn't using the laptop at the time - we had just finished dancing to Basement Jaxx (for the 50 billionth time). All was calm and apparently the temptation to throw something at mom was too hard to resist.

This phase is exhausting. I'm apparently no fun right now but these statements are punctuated with "LOVE YOU MOMMY" or "hug me" or "you're so pretty mommy". And then good behaviour until the next outburst. It's like living with a lunatic.

And to think, that used to be my crown to wear.

you are the lunatic mommy
not me - not by a longshot

Six months to three and I shudder to think what that age might bring. Hold me.

Oh and in case you are trying to figure out why I have Big Country up there at the top - no real reason other than the namesake song is stuck in my head - go Scottish 80s rock!

Happy Earth Day Folks

Woke up with a wicked cough - so did SB and Bumper. Mother Nature obviously LOOOOOVES us. Or maybe the pollution has caught up on us and the reason for Earth Day is filling our chest with Alanis Morrisette kind of irony.

I would have preferred real irony* where the certified organic seeds purchased to start a balcony garden to teach Bumper about the environment, were actually mutant chemical laden offspring of super plants that plan on taking over the world because they want to seek revenge for the shitty job bipeds have been doing so far and we are growing the first generation.

Now that's a summertime blockbuster movie plot just waiting to happen. Starring Morgan Freeman, Jake Gyllenhaal and Tea Leoni. Doesn't that sound fab?

Anyhow - here is a picture of Bumper interacting with nature - she's trying to decide if she is going to chase that black squirrel or the dove which is really hard to see but it's just a few feet in front of her.
We will spend the day being respectful of the Earth - which we try to do every day but perhaps a bigger effort today.

Like maybe I'll share some good earth-centric reads - like the ones over at Playdate (yup, step right up and get your shameless plugs right here) and BlogHers Act Canada. Even over at Binkywood there is a green focused bit of gossip care of Something Blue.

Yes, that was my good deed for the hour.

So what are you doing for Earth Day? No seriously, what are you doing for Earth Day - inspire me folks.

* remember that seen in Reality Bites where Lelaina's asked to define irony at a job intereview and can't - well don't bother telling me that I've defined it wrong because I don't really care. Just like the majority of the generation they call X.

EDIT TO ADD:
More shameless plugs (because I luv these folks and/or products):
- Give away at The Full Mommy
- Kids' Art Auction
- Clean Well is offering a 30% off all natural (no alcohol or bad chemicals) hand sanitizer and foaming hand soaps discount code (valid until Friday April 25): ED08 (that is zero-eight)
(This one I heard about via the Parent Bloggers Network - who RAWK!)
- sk*rt has a contest going this week - win a Fuji Crosstown 2.0 bike ($399 value) -so earth friendly, so economical, such a great workout. ENTER NOW!

AND BY FAR MY FAVORITE SHAMELESS PLUG (drumroll pleeeze):
The one from my peeps over at BlogHers Act Canada who are hosting the
Official BlogHers ACT Canada Earth Day Kids Gardening Photo Contest!
Details can be found here.

Please leave me a comment if you have a link to something Earth Day related.

Monday Morning Inspirational #95184

Take a picture shiny boy, it lasts longer...
or are you looking for some fine prison luvin'?
oh and one comment about me wearing mom pants
and I'll crush your windpipe before you can say "nice mo...".

There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris's computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.

Just like me.

NOT.

Anyhow, it was a rather non-eventful weekend at Casa Bump. That is a good thing.

Mind you, Bumper is in a totally out-of-control defiant mood which is difficult to deal with but I can't really complain. If she was acting all angelic, I'd be counting the silver wear and double checking the knife drawer. But seriously, she is a bit out of control in a hyper way.

Usually this signifies a learning obstacle is nearing the "overcome" status and that new skill is about to be mastered.

For the life of me, I can't figure out what is left since she has walking, running, skipping, beating me, manners, walking/smoking/chewing gum simultaneously, talking in full, completely mind-boggling, scary sentences all while mixing a mighty fine martini down pat.

Hot wiring cars perhaps? Who knows. Better be lucrative.

Anyhow, whenever this happens she sleeps well for a week or so, lulls us into a false sense of security, and then she is back to downloading the latest program in the Bumpatrix.

Man, preschoolers are mind-boggling.

Hey look over here. See this thing - yes, this would be a tangent in the post.

Last Saturday night (like over a week ago for you Luddite calendar following folks), I was able to get out for some socializing with a large group of Canadian kick-ass bloggers. Mmmm it was nice.. really nice.

Anyhow, during the course of the evening I was asked a question that stayed with me - it was along the lines of "how do you find time to do the all sorts of the different things you mention on your blog and not have your toddler set the curtains on fire because you are so distracted by said things?".

I believe the said things refer to the teching/writing/spewing of gossip things I do over at Playdate, Binkywood, the on hiatus but still providing work Tool of the Matriarchy, Sk*rt, and of course, this ol' thang motherbumper [editor: this paragraph is a grand example of shameless self-promotion].

Or maybe they were referring to my night job over at the local wrestling pit where for just the low entry fee of 25 bucks, you can try to kick my as* in a vat of pad thai (warning: contains peanuts and shellfish). Note I said try - no one beats the motherbumper at pad thai wrestling... no one... except my child.

Regardless of what they were talking about, my answer was to smile and say "sleep is soooo overrated" punctuated with hyena-like laughter and a swift change in topic.

In reality how I do said multiple things is: - *deep breath* - I do absolutely next to no housekeeping. Like the absolute minimum as in "department of health doesn't break down door and burn sheets kinda bare" minimum.

But of course, when I know that guests might show up on my doorstep, I clean up the puddles, sticky spots, throw the dishes into the cupboards and dust bust the areas guests may tread. Oh and I'll wipe down the toilet seat because I'm civilized like that.

So in case you are wondering my secrets for juggling the fun shit I do - no, I do not neglect the child* - I neglect the floors, dishes, laundry, and general neatness of our environs.

Because I can say with most certainty, based on the fact that I love my family so much, and being a member of the blogosphere makes me so f'ing happy, that I will never EVER say on my death bed "DAMMIT, I should have cleaned more".

Amen.

* btw no one insinuated or even hinted that I must neglect my child but when I over analysed things I did at one point think "omg what if they think I ignore my kid all day?" but then of course I realized the wonderful folks I mix with don't think that way - otherwise they wouldn't be talking to me, they would be reporting me to the authorities. Anyhow, almost all of them hold down full-time jobs, have a happy family life, have wonderful kids, and write kick ass blogs AND probably have clean homes. So really, the question really should be "How da' f**k are you all doing it?" AND "can I move in with you?".

Being the week of Earth Day, over at Playdate there is a whole eco-theme going on - so if you are into saving the planet and other super cool adventures, check out what's going on. Happy Monday ya'll.

Thursday Morning: AV sins of my past

My secret (audio visual) television and totally uncool sin of years past:

I loved 7th Heaven and watched it every chance I got. Kinda know a lot of the story lines. Their ability to problem solve and forgive each other was refreshingly mind-numbing which I sometimes need.

Care to 'fess up? Come on - purge your tv or musical sins - what's yours? I promise not to make fun or laugh (in your face). It's liberating.

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

Oh and a shameless but totally non-sinful plug for some ladies that I luuuuuuuuuve over at sk*rt:

Tonight is sk*rt blog book smackdown with author Katherine Center - author of "The Bright Side of Disaster. The Reckoning." - who is exposing herself by having a live!, interactive! ,possibly completely crazy & out of control neato-keen video chat with anyone who wants to join in. She might talk about her run ins with Ben Affleck, maybe she will throw big words at you, maybe she will challenge you to a tequila shoot off - who knows?

Check the dets over at the sk*rt blog right here. It's gonna be fuuuuuuuun.

Sorry for abusing the letter "u" - it's too easy.

oh gross

Anyone care to hazard a guess what the object on the left is? The one next to the clove?

Animal? Vegetable? or (fake) Mineral?


Yes - that's right, smart and gentle readers reader - it's a jewel.

Oh no, no, no.... I'm not that disgusting and depraved and desperate for blog material that I'd take a pictured of a crapped out bedazzler bead.

Nope, that photographed object came out from whence it entered. Her nose.

Bumper recently mastered nose blowing and yesterday after a request for a tissue, she presented me with one snot covered gemstone.

Almost five days after a small team of health professionals looked for this exact object with lights, long pointy things, saline solutions, sneeze therapy, and a surprisingly cooperative patient, it emerged.

And after almost five days of no complaints - save for one comment during our Saturday afternoon parental survival tactic movie indulgence, when she said out of the blue "I don't want bead in my tummy", it sprang forth.

She had none of the symptoms listed on her discharge notes under "come back if any of these things occur". Nada. Not a one.

GOOD GOLLY - WHERE THE HELL WAS IT? HER NOSE IS THE SIZE OF A BUTTON.

Alas, it seems the bead was in her nose the entire time unless she was pulling a really elaborate joke which - even I must admit - is beyond my particularly precocious daughters skill level.

Anyhow, the case of "The Mystery of the Bedazzled Sinus" is now closed. Encyclopedia Brown would be proud (well he would have been if I had done any actual mystery solving but whatever, case closed).

In other news, this kid can blow up over 200 balloons in one hour only using his nostrils. Never, EVER underestimate what your kid can do with his/her nose. EVER.

next up, moby

Monday started somewhat as expected. I'm definitely sick with something low grade, more ick than yuck, but manageable compared to previous fair this season has offered. I'm upright, and basically just having body aches and a bit of vertigo.

Something inner ear perhaps? Whatever it is, it better not take up residence for long or I'll go postal on it.

Anyhow, threatening to pull out the raving lunatic face essentially means nothing to the germs within, but the going crazy will directly effect the subject or possible focus of future posts. Pray for a quick recovery. Too much whine and cheese makes for bad reading.

Moving right along - in the morning SB and I confirmed that we had all the necessary parts of Bumper's nursery co-op registration filled out. Money, are all cheques filled out properly - yup, police check - Bumper has a reputation - completed, all the policies understood, initialled and signed. So much to do. Such a huge folder for such a wee person.

Off I went, forms, medical records, our complete family tree, sworn affidavits from ten friends, and the last seven years of our tax returns tucked under my arm. Not an accurate list of the folder contents, but it kinda felt like that. Across the street I went, heading toward the site of our Bumper's very first independent(ish)* activity: Nursery School.

Effort was actually exerted when picking the place (I know! Someone lazy like me in the parental sense, not just taking the closest available spot). Research and visits and searches were conducted by lil' ol' me: lazy butt. Damn proud of that feat. And confident. Kinda.

And yes - it's just a coincidence that this is the closest Nursery to our home - no really, it is.

As for independently(ish)* - word choice due to the fact that it's a co-op and I'll be there on my duty days. Now that should be interesting. Having so many minds to warp at one time, will definitely prove challenging.

Arriving at the gate a few minutes before the registration was to start, a few others were already crammed into the small mud room. The staff was inside the glass doors making prep for the mad rush of parents - many who brought their offspring. I was thankful that this task could be done alone, because personally I was too distracted to parent. I'd probably show off my fine mom skills when Bumper dismantled their photocopier and kidnapped the turtle while mom was lost in thought.

It's a lot of non-refundable money, I thought while tapping my foot and trying to distract myself with small chat with others. It wasn't working - I couldn't stop thinking about how this might be wrong. Maybe she isn't ready to go to school.

No, that's silly. She really needs to get out and meet other kids. She loves organized activities, she survived her first sleep away without a peep. It's the right thing to do.

Registrant #4 goes into the interview room - I'm number five. I could just leave now.

Good gawd, I never noticed that mural on the wall during the tour. It's of motherf**kin' clowns. Six of them.

This is wrong... I should of seen that... what else did I miss?

The clown on the far left looks like that creep out of Saw. This isn't good.

A bead of sweat actually formed above me ear. Am I hyperventilating? Why am I freaking out like this.

Snap out of it. If I was Nick Cage to your Cher, my cheek would be smarting.

Sure, I knew what this freakout was really about but couldn't I find one lame-ass reason that would give me license to run. Because the one about not wanting my daughter to be growing up this fast is just not cutting it.

Moby came in on my left.

Mental note: take this post down or edit before other parents find me out.

I really don't need or want Moby crapping on me.

But seriously - dude was a dead ringer.

Wonder if his kid is nice. Better be.

Gawd - what if she has a class of total bullies and knobs? Wait, her best neighbourhood buddy is registering also. Please let them be in the same class.

I'm gonna faint. I can feel it.

Gripping the sides of the chair and looking completely insane, the room opened and they call number five.

Last chance to leave.

Getting up and putting on that fake smile that I've donned too many times since becoming a parent, I entered the room and sat down on the mini classroom chair. Thrust my hand out, said my name loud and clear, and smiled. Passing myself off as a confident parent. I hope.

It's the right decision but it sure as heck doesn't make it any easier.

Must remember to suggest a repainting of the murals on clean-up day. You know, so I can't blame the flippin' clowns.

She's in - we got our preferences and now I have weeks to fret over our decision. Fun times ahead.

Monday Morning Inspirational #71802

OK, so I don't remember the part in the Old Testament where Chuck came in but I was never known for my listening skills during church. Motherbumper spent waaaaaay too much time trying to figure out why that old lady in the choir sang with that ridiculously high-pitched, fake-sounding falsetto every freakin' solo or better yet, why Brother John in full Franciscan garb was missing a finger. With so many things to contemplate, who wouldn't miss when Chuck took over?

Anyhow, I spent this weekend being a redneck . Oh yes, she was in town for a whirlwind tour and Saturday night found me and something like 25 other bloggers up on top of Toronto toasting the night away with Redneck Mommy. I was not drinking (WHAT? screams the crowd my Dad) because I had a 100% patented motherbumper of a migraine Friday and was still nursing nausea wounds the next day.

This translated to me being a bit slow on the uptake and downloads during the festivities. I was about as sharp as nerf ball and dangerous as a wet kitten but f**k it, I had a blast. More on it later, when I can get all the linky love going because oh my holy heck - there were so many bloggers there and I'm really that lazy.

Right now it's Sunday night when I write this and I'm 98% sure that I'm sick. Again. Didn't I just got over the real-life-made-for-tv thus plague-worthy flu? Here it is, finally Spring outside and I'm getting sick. Some days I'm pretty sure this is purgatory.

So I'm extra special crispy, loopy and lazy tonight and I cannot do excessive linkage - I have yet to memorize everyone's freakin' url. Shame on me. See? Extra crispy tonight.

Oh and update to the *ahem* case of the missing jewel or she sh*ts diamonds by the seashore: there has been no definitive sighting of the bedazzled joy that gave that extra special twist to our past Thursday afternoon. We've given up hope in finding the bauble. But I'm glad that our experience could serve as a warning to you all - just when you think you have them figured out, they make the next move so unnerving and unexpected that game begins again. Good times.

Ah, parenthood - looks so good on the outside, pure mayhem on the inside.

Bedazzled Fafrazzled

So what did you do this afternoon?

Yah, yah, that's great - OK my turn now:

We did laundry which in itself isn't that interesting, in fact it's incredibly boring. But during the tedium of putting wet wash into the dryer, Bumper found a jewel in the lint.

No I'm not trying to be all poetic - she found an actual bedazzler style jewel in the trap and asked if she could have it. I didn't see any harm and said yes, so she tucked it into her pocket to later add to that massive pile of garbage booty she carts around in her various purses and bags.

Said booty includes but is not limited to: junk mail, items from the recycling box, and anything that isn't nailed down. She is part crow, this sweet child of mine.

Now it was rather naive of me to think no harm could come from a jewel. I figured she's basically over that "everything in the mouth" phase and she treasures so many things these days, what could possibly go wrong?

Oh please stop laughing and rolling your eyes.

We returned to the apartment once the dryers were loaded up and I went to the kitchen to set the timer. I'm super forgetful so I cannot live without alarms to remind me of what I was doing before getting engrossed in a game like "taking the plane to see the grandparents".

Yet before I could leave the kitchen to check on my little airline pilot - I heard her cry out.

It was that kind of cry that makes your heart jump, stomach drop, and save for strong sphincter control - makes you almost sh*t your pants. Most parents know that cry and while reactions are varied, it all equals panic.

She came running towards me crying out "Take it out! Take it out! Mommy GET IT OUT!" all while holding her face.

I dropped to me knees and asked as calmly as I could - take what out of where?

A weak "in nose".

omg - it was the jewel.

Thinking fast, I draped her over my lap and did that poorly named "eskimo" method of sucking crap out of her nose. Nada. No jewel. Now she was screaming in pain. No one wants to hear that escalation in cry. No one.

Then the crying stopped. She jumped off my lap and ran to the corner and ordered me not to come near her. She covered her nose like she had a big shameful booger to hide, used her other hand to shoo me away, and screamed each time I tried to approach.

Oh sweet juju - I scarred her for life with that sucking manoeuvre. She will have flashbacks when her first beau comes in for the kiss. This is really BAD. But at least she's breathing and there is no blood.

What to do - what to do? I called telehealth and after answering all the questions and proving to them that she was in fact breathing "uh - yup those screams of "NO MOMMY" in the background - yup that's her breathing - LOUDLY", they suggested we go to the ER to have it removed. Okay - I can do that.

So I called SB and asked him in a really shrill voice to come home RIGHT NOW! because I couldn't think straight. And of course, being the good man that he is - he came right away.

I left a message to cancel the play date we had scheduled for later in the afternoon and I went to dress B for a trip to the ER.

But I found her looking ill - she was still breathing completely normal, and she could talk a blue streak but she was green around the gills. Now I was in full panic mode.

Being the woman that I am, I couldn't wait for SB, grabbed her, ran out the door, and jumped in a cab leaving him a note that only a chicken windtalker could decipher.

Of course once in the cab she was all giggles and jumping around while I tried to hold her down in the seatbelt.

We got to the ER, she told triage that she had something up her nose, they agreed and we were quickly moved to the inner sanctum where they perform the dreaded nasalectomy.

I'll spare you the drama. Short of long, it wouldn't come out, she's apparently A-OK, and now it's a waiting game.

They have promised me it's gonna come out one way or another. We tried sneezing, they tried flushing and some other only slightly craptastically horrible non-surgical or radiation-filled options and because it couldn't be found with a flashlight and eyeballs - we* decided to do nothing.
*we being me - a questionable adult - with two lovely docs and a child who fully agreed

I know - how weird. Do nothing. Makes one feel a bit helpless, no?

Of course I have a toilet paper rolls worth of symptoms to look out for and you know I'll be checking her breathing every 15 seconds tonight. But I'm confident we made the right decision. Oh and as for the ill moment - apparently it's quite normal in these situations - it may have been a result of the pain of passing it through the nose.

Since it looks like it was swallowed, I will be on poop check all day tomorrow. Which is nothing like poop deck duty.

But at least if she did swallow it and I find it in her poop, I can say my daughter shits diamonds.

Somebody stop me before I go Hallmark

So I was writing this really sad depressing post but I decided to spare you.

I'm nice like that.

Consider yourself lucky. It was a post that included this photo:

Yup, you know how much motherbumper hates clowns and this photo demonstrates a huge chunk of why.

Seriously - what kind of sane person includes that photo in their post?

Exactly - a not-sane one. So why don't we let that post sit on ice for a while. Yup, sounds good to us (hello! referring to self as plural - loopy looney tunes alert, level three).

Anyhow, here I sit with Guitar Hero III being played inches from my head and for some kooky reason I've got this overwhelming urge to state that I find that freakin' game bloody addicting.

Oh wait, let me rephrase that - I'm pretty sure I know how just how freakin' addicting that game is because it's definitely not based on recent experience. I NEVER get to play anymore. But I can say with confidence that I do remember the craving for that distinct flavour of just one more go: the one more that turns into an hour or two or twelve later. Guitar Hero induces that craving.

Yup, we love our Wii but due to my husband's BFF* recent Wii acquisition and blossoming GH addiction, coupled with their blood thirsty healthy sense of competition, I have become a GH widow.

Whatever - he has been a blog widow a lot longer than my recent loss.

* Do guys call it that - BFF? probably not and I'll get a "wtf?" tomorrow when he reads this - and then I'll laugh and he'll put my bra in the freezer because life in our home is like one big sleepover. One that includes a rabid badger who switches with a mini-me who happens to possess more brains than me which make it a mini-me TURBO and we live like we are being directed by John Waters / Wes Anderson co-production because life JUST GETS LIKE THAT SOMETIMES. Can't relate? OK, I'll get back on topic now.

Time out.

OK I just pressed "save" on this post and went and played a few songs on the Wii while SB had a rare break.

Yup - just as addicting as I remember.

So, last night SB and I took a coincidental break and had one those "hey how you doing? haven't seen you in a while" conversation. Wow - we are crazy romantic.

Anyhow, SB mentioned that his friend's girlfriend also played GH and maybe I should get another guitar so we could do a double-date online with a guitar war.

After that statement, we both laughed our as*es off for a good five minutes at the obvious overwhelming stink of nerdiness that idea carried.

But I'd be lying if it didn't state that for MORE than a split second I considered the idea as an actual possibility before my nerd radar called out a red alert of Ebola-carrying monkey proportions.

Yup, that would be a lie to deny.

Monday Morning Chuck #78601

This WILL be my birthday cake this year - for real. I will cry if I don't get it because Nibbling on a bit of Chuck will totally make my day.

Which I guess is more of an Eastwood thing but whatever. Check out that chest ripple. Somebody has been using their Total Gym, haven't they now.


Anyhow... Newton's Third Law is wrong: Although it states that for each action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, there is no force equal in reaction to a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick.

Oh and Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of surprise.

Which totally is my reason for never learning the periodic table. That's my excuse and I'm stickin' to it - hear that Sister Mary Margaret?

So I'm back in the land of Toronto and I spent most of my free time yesterday putting together the shaffizzle to relaunch that group blog I'm so proud to be a part of: Better Than A Playdate (or the blog formally known as MommyBlogsToronto).

There are new columns and omg I'm now one of the writers at the Playdate gossip column, Binkywood because I LOVE TO SLAM FOLKS I WILL NEVER MEET AND THEREFORE CANNOT HURT ME. (Please don't hurt me if you are a celeb).

It's so much healthier to gossip about celebs than doing it to folks I do know. Anyhow, I'm writing for Binkywood which isn't all parent celeb gossip but holy crap it seems that babies are the fashion accessory du jour (last few years actually). Actually this whole baby thing is crazy - and the marriages - and hell, all those crazy stupid things folks like me do - but instead they do it on a scale that only a person with lotsa money to burn and an entourage that constantly states that the sun shines outta your butt can achieve. And I'm here to poke fun or add my two unsolicited cents. But sometimes I'm nice. It can happen. And I love to spread joy so that's why I do it. Especially when the joy spreadin' includes nudity, man-stealing, or someone totally losing their sh*t in public and going postal for the cameras.

And oh yes, I'm doing this BECAUSE I HAVE SO MUCH TIME ON MY HANDS! Yes I took on another blog.

Somebody have me committed because I'm officially WACKYDOODLE. Note the abuse of capitalization and random outbursts peppering this post.

I'm just a few outbursts short of being totally cuckoo for clonazepam puffs cocoa puffs.

Not really. I'm just being a total drama queen. Kinda.

But seriously I've been all over the place lately when it comes to the insanity scale. There has been a lot of reflection in recent days and I'll warn you potential nonsensical posts may be ahead.

These changes of season - regardless of need for warm weather - always screw with my fragile reading on the wheel of crazy. What? You don't have a way to measure how looney you are like my crazy wheel? I don't believe it. I read your blogs and I know I'm not alone on spinning up a loco like Britney kind of day. RIGHT?

Ack. Ignore me - go check out the new digs at Better Than A Playdate - it's still in beta and not all links are up yet but hot damn, it's gonna be a hell of a playdate.

I should be careful when I ask - part 2

Part 1 of "I should be careful when I ask" can be found here.

I'm still doing my East Coast Tour and I'm leaving for the so called "controversial" Camp Baby in an hour. The fact that I'm doing something controversial makes me giggle because I'm super mature like that.

Honestly I'm just curious to see what Johnsons & Johnsons has to say and also it would be nice for the big corporations to get it right when dealing with the mega-force known as parent bloggers. Maybe we can steer them in the right direction.

If not, I'll just grab as much free shampoo as I can before they secure a restraining order. I'm faster than the cops most days. Actually it totally depends on how much I've had to drink - but that's another story all together.

Anyhow, this is part deux of the questions and this time I'm just tackling a couple because I'm sharing a computer with my lovely parents who have foolishly graciously volunteered to take care of my rabid badger beautiful child while I gallivant around with fellow bloggers in the land of Tony Soprano.

Mrs. Chicky asked:
If you could pick one person, alive or dead, movie star, rock star, or person you know, to slather in chocolate and nibble at like a candy Easter Bunny for ever and ever, who would you pick? And why?

EASY F'ING PEASY: Viggo Mortensen. He doesn't even need to be dipped in chocolate, though that would be a nice bonus. He is the one thing that distracts me from my lovely SB. And SB understands (I hope).
Of course the only time I had the chance to see the guy in person I just happened to be 10 months pregnant and looking like Jabba the Hut. SB and I went to the TIFF premier of A History of Violence (uh - best sex scenes EVER) where I had to get all hot and giggly while trying not too looked too pained from sitting in the most uncomfortable seat for the love of art.

Oh Viggo, you are the Princess Leia to my Jabba. RAWR.

Oh and why? Well if you met my SB you'd figure it out. But you won't so let me just say that he draws me in like a tall cold drink and his boyish charm, political awareness, deep intellect, steadfast opinions, and rock hard sexiness makes me swoon. Just like SB.

If you are done gagging over my gushing, let's move on. I'm skipping down the list of questions because the others are too involved so I want something easy.

My girl crush Jessica from Daysgoby asked:
Why Motherbumper? Why the title of your blog, and why do you call yourself Motherbumper?

AGAIN - EASY PEASY (don't sue me Jamie Oliver for abusing your little catch phrase)

For the entire length of my pregnancy - which seemed like at least year long - I referred to my Bumper as... Bumper. She was like a pinball from week sixteen onwards and I remember that very first moment I felt her bumpin' about. I thought I had the wickedest gas ever but quickly realized it was her. It was pure fetal magic that could not be quelled with any kind of antacid.

Anyhow, when it came time to dream up a blog name, I started with her "name" since she was my inspiration for blogging. As the creative brainstorming juices flowed, I thought "hmmm well I am her mother so why not motherbumper?" I liked the fact that it sounded just like motherf**ker and with that the heavens parted and the voices in my head sang out "SO BE IT" and so it was.

True story. Except for the heavens parting thing - it was actually a hole in the floor opening up with flames and brimestone shooting out - but the image wasn't as pretty.

And considering I say mo'fo' in my head about once every two minutes, it's easy for me to remember.

So next time you swear at the person who cuts you off in traffic, maybe you can yell MOTHERBUMPER instead and somewhere a little devil will get it's pitchfork.

OK - I gotta go run and catch a plane but I'm far from done answering questions. There is so much more to come - like the story of how SB and I met, my preference between mayo and mustard, some of my regrets, my regrets of regrets, and regretful regrets. Or something like that.

Oh and I'm over in the lab today reviewing the newest Thomas & Friends (as in tank engine) DVD and their latest adventures in Sodor.

Mmmmmm Sodor sounds like Mordor which makes me think Aragorn which brings me back to yummy Viggo and makes me miss SB more than ever. DAMN YOU LITTLE TANK ENGINE (*shakes fist in air*).