NaBloPoMo: Mission Complete 2.0

Can you imagine doing 29 says of NaBloPoMo only to fuck it up on the last day? It nearly happened! See I had the follow up at the fertility clinic today and I'm a little distracted. But I'll tell you more about that tomorrow or another day. Mostly because I don't know how the story ends just yet. Until then, thanks for sticking it out with me for the last 30 days. We'll be back to our regular, more sporadic, less filler-esque posting schedule. G'night!

Boss Man Frasier Crane

There's a new show on called "Boss" with Kelsey Grammer as the terminally ill Mayor of Chicago. It's excellent, but I keep waiting for him to wonder aloud about what to do with the tossed salad and scrambled eggs.

My latest adventure

So I decided something had to be done about the ever-expanding size of my ass. I'd blame it on the kid, but I was well below my pre-pregnancy weight by six months postpartum. It really started creeping up when I went back to work. I guess I didn't realize how much activity was involved in lifting a 20+lb baby about a hundred times a day and pushing around a stroller for most of my errands. In reality it's a pound here and a pound there that come together for a really BIG party, but it always seems like it's all of a sudden none of your pants fit.

Having to move to the "other" side of the store to find pants that fit was a pretty good motivator. Oh right, here's where I'm supposed to say that I want to live a healthier life to set an example for my daughter. Give her a fit mom to run and jump and play with, all that shit. Sure. Fine. OK. And maybe it would be nice to stop avoiding the camera so when she's older she'll have some pictures of her mom to look back on. But really, it's about the pants and the "other" side of the store.

Enter the online version of Weight Watchers. Why online? I've been to WW meetings, the group support thing just isn't for me. I find myself bored and rolling my eyes at the accomplishments of others. Mean, but true. Yes, I am aware there roughly a million free online weight loss tools. But I know myself well enough to know I'm a lot more likely to take it seriously when I've put some money on the line. So the pain in the ass, poorly designed, hopelessly lacking in ethnic foods WW online system it is!

You know what the greatest revelation has been so far? That my relaxing pail glass of wine or two in the evening has probably been my downfall all along. Sunday to Thursday I have replaced it with a nice mug of sleepy time tea. Things would probably go faster if I gave it up altogether, but then my life wouldn't be worth living. OK it would, but I'd be a whole lot crankier. Right now I'm drinking that steamy cup of herbal tea and you know what? It's just not the same.

What's THAT got to do with the price of eggs?

I got nothing. It's day 27 of NaBloPoMo and I'm running out of steam. So rather than dusting off an oldie from the archives I'm going to bitch, very briefly, about the price of eggs. You keep hearing about eggs as a cheap source of protein and relative to every kind of meat that's true. But the cheapest dozen eggs I could find today was $2.89. For 12 eggs. What's up with that?

Winter Magic!

There are a lot of drawbacks to raising a family in a big city like smaller houses unless you've got a gagillion dollars to spend, fierce competition for daycare and activity spaces and a general lack of wide open spaces. But there are a lot of pluses too, like a heavy concentration of activities for little people. For example, today the city hosted Winter Magic, a kid's carnival with rides and character visits and a stage show. It was right downtown so when we were done with the carnival we went through the Eaton Centre to see the Swarovski Christmas Tree and Giant Reindeer display.

It took a while, but I figured out why they call it Winter Magic. Though I'm not much of a Christmas person, I find the lights and colours of the season fascinating. This year, The Parasite is old enough to catch a bit of the spirit too. It's one thing to take in the sights on your own, but it's an entirely different, wonderful thing to see the sights through the wondrous expressions on the face of the person you love the most.

That she makes a funny face every time I try to capture it on film is just part of the charm.

Stream of Consciousness: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

I've seen a few of the stream of consciousness posts. The deal is you're supposed to set a timer and write for five minutes, no editing, just go. But I write stuff for a living in my day job. I... can't turn off the inner editor. This is my best shot.

I have had the theme for National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation stuck in my head for two days now. Surely it's some kind of sign. Are distant relatives going to show up on my doorstep with an obnoxious dog this year? Will my tree catch fire? Will a large icicle from our eavestrough careen through our super yuppie neighbour's window? Because we DO have a couple rather like Julia Louis-Dreyfuss and whatever the guy who played her husband's name was two doors down.

Someone will get drunk (let's face it, probably me) someone will cry over dinner (probably The Parasite) and someone will probably completely blow their stack. You might think that'll be The Husband, but no, me again! Wow, it's hard to focus for five minutes. Also, I'm a really lousy typist. How many words a minute is this? 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - TIME'S UP!

Winter Vacation

This week, I made the final payment on our winter vacation. We're taking a cruise that goes from Tampa to Honduras, Belize and Mexico. It is literally months away and I'm trying to decide what day activities we're going to do. I have already determined how many points I'll need for the flights for our summer vacation. It's a sickness, people. A sickness!

After last Friday's relaxation, I have decided most of you are right, I need to do it more often. I am doing the laundry tonight and I'm going grocery shopping tomorrow night so that on Sunday I can sleep in and goof off, dammit! Wish me luck with that, I'll probably need it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! I hope those of you going shopping tomorrow are wearing full protective gear and keeping your elbows sharp.

Technical Difficulties

Oh hai! My wireless? She is broken. The Husband is working on it. It's nice having tech support literally in-house. Why not plug in, you ask? I don't have a cable. 12,456 cables in this place, but none of the are the one I need. So I'm posting this from my phone, because that's how seriously I take NaBloPoMo, man. But this post won't be particularly well proofread because, as we know, I'm really quite lazy.

Speaking of lazy, does anyone know how to disable the exceedingly annoying typewriter sound on the iPhone keyboard? I'm sure it's a settings thing that I lack the patience to find.

Also, preschool has turned my sweet baby into an obnoxious tyrant. I love that autocorrect thinks I meant Tyra in that last sentence. No, silly phone, that would be Naomi Campbell! Anyway, I know transitions are hard on the small fry, but could someone please give me an idea of how long we're talking about until things settle back down? Because if it's not soon I may hand her off to the nearest pack of traveling gypsies!

The one where she laughs until she cries

Those who have been new mothers know that those first few weeks can make you a little, well, crazy. You've got that hormonal shift from being pregnant to bonding with a baby, you haven't slept for longer than a couple of hours at a once for many days, people keep showing up at your house while you're in your bathrobe (YES at 6:00 in the evening) and if you're REALLY lucky, like I was, you'll find yourself unable to sleep most of the time anyway.

Hormones. Crazy.

Throw in a problem with breastfeeding and you're just asking for a meltdown. Or five. When The Parasite was two weeks old she decided that she wasn't so much interested in providing us with evidence that she was getting enough to eat. That's right, she decided poopin' was for suckers. I was beside myself with worry. After a few days we called the doctor, they said give it a week. On day 10, we were going to have to take her to the hospital. On day 9, she decided to let loose. And boy, did she ever make up for lost time.

It was The Husband's turn. And as the disgusting mess was happening right before our eyes, I started to snicker. And then giggle. And then laugh. And then I didn't stop. I laughed until my face was wet with tears and I was on the floor, clutching my sides in pain, but I did not stop. I laughed until I couldn't breathe, and then I laughed some more. Stress and exhaustion came to a head and released as I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. It has been two and a half years since The Night Of Which We Do Not Speak and I still smile when I think about how much better that laugh made me feel. It really is the best medicine.


This post is part of GBE2 - Week #27 word prompt: Laughter. For more info,  click here. 

I don't like Mondays

Ever had one of those days where you wonder why you bothered getting out of bed? There were more tears when dropping The Parasite off in the new room at daycare, I was late for a meeting where I discovered some work stuff is just not going according to plan, the daycare director called me with a whole bunch of bitch in her tone to say that our fees are not up to date for the new room (not true, their fault, not mine), I got a flu shot which hurts like hell at the injection site, the subway ride home was jammed beyond belief so I had strange people touching me (Ew!) and I overcooked the shit out of dinner.

Before anything else goes wrong I'm going to back away slowly from the keyboard. I'll have a less whiny post tomorrow, promise!

The Dangers of PVR

I let The Husband sleep in while I took The Parasite downstairs yesterday. I know, he IS lucky to have me. But it's totally an "I scratch your back, you scratch mine" arrangement and it was my turn today. Except that he got a call about a problem at work that he's been working on remotely since before 7:00 this morning. No snooze for ME!

In anticipation of my later morning I had a few glasses of wine last night. It's not a full blown hangover, I'm just a little fuzzy-headed. From the moment she woke up, The Parasite has been asking about "Da Mister of da Kai." What the fuck does that mean? I DON'T KNOW. My lack of comprehension was the source of a rather impressive (and high-pitched) tantrum. 

After much pleading for quiet because of the poor neighbours' ears (and mine) we went through a careful process of elimination. Da Mister of da kai = The Backyardigans, Season 3, Episode 10: The Master of Disguise. Ta-daaaah! Order has been restored and I am free to enjoy the coffee I just got from the awesome home delivery service. That's right, a nice man brought coffee, roasted on Friday, to my front door yesterday. He's like Santa only way, way better.

Perpetual Motion Machine

They did a dry run yesterday afternoon bringing The Parasite over to the preschool room. It... did not go well. Lo, the tears! Thankfully, I only heard about them after the fact because it probably would have broken my heart to see it in action. It's new, and new things are scary when you're two. The Husband does drop off and I do pick up but we're both going with her on Monday to meet her new teachers. I hope she transitions well, because nothing makes me feel like Mom of the Year like leaving my kid sobbing in a puddle of her own tears.

Last night I was tired. I know, what else is new? But it was an extra layer of tired. All I really wanted to do was curl up on the couch and go to sleep. For a minute I felt guilty about it. There's laundry to be done! Who will prepare the shopping list? The sweater! What about the sweater?

Why do I feel like I need to be doing something every moment of every day? It was a long damn week and I needed a break. So I took it. I laid down on the couch and watched a crappy movie with The Husband before going to bed early. When The Parasite woke up at 6:30 I was rested enough to take her downstairs and play with her, rather than dragging my cranky ass all over the place.

I don't know why I worry about something as trivial about a night on the couch so much. I look ahead at the mountain of shit to do and stress about it until it's done. It's 12:40, The Parasite is napping, the last load of laundry is in the dryer, the menu plan for the week and the shopping list are done and I'm about to head to the grocery store. In other words, early to bed, early to rise caused no disruption to overall productivity whatsoever. God, I need to cut myself a little slack once in a while!

Mama, I'm a big girl now

Today is The Parasite's last day in the toddler room at her daycare. When I went back to work a couple of days after her first birthday she was in a home daycare with a loving mom who had a son the same age. It was a great arrangement for that first year, but it became pretty clear she needed a little more stimulation so we moved her to the centre she's at now.

Three very caring women tend to her all day, singing her songs and teaching her about sharing and life outside her own home. A few times I have picked her up to find that Bing, one of the teachers, has played with her hair and put it into adorable designs. She won't sit still long enough for me to do that. At first I was really jealous. What the hell? Another female is grooming my monkey! But then I realized that it means that while I am off at work all day, there's another woman who cares for her, and kisses her booboos and puts her in time out for throwing things. I trust other women to look after the most precious thing I have, and the care and dedication they show doing their job allows me to go off every day and do mine.

She's going to be the baby in the room, kids older and bigger than her are going to snatch her toys and possibly knock her down in the scramble to get where they're going. She's a tough little cookie and I have no doubt that she'll assert herself just fine. She is her mother's daughter, after all. There will be a pecking order, she'll have new teachers, new women to tend to her, guide her, shape her sponge-like little mind. More structure, more learning, but still a lot of playtime and general tomfoolery.

Sure, it may not seem like a big deal to YOU, but to me it's the first of many milestones reminding me she's not a baby anymore. First the preschool room, then the first day of school, junior high, high school. Next thing I know, she's going to be off to university. It's such a cliche, I know, but it really does go too fast. Luckily I have a follow up with the fertility specialist later this month, so hopefully we can do it all over again soon!

Circle of Moms: Top 25 - Voting Ends TODAY!

Life with a Parasite was nominated as a contender for the Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs at Circle of Moms.

Voting ends TODAY! Of course I'm not going to crack the Top 25 and it's flattering just to be nominated (that's what the Oscar losers say, right?) but I'd love as many votes as possible. Please click the link above to vote for me. And while you're there, check out the fantastic community on Circle of Moms.

Thank you in advance for your support!

I'm just chillin'

Don't mind me. I'm just sitting here, chillin', eating my breakfast and watching some Cat in the Hat. My terrible posture? Oh, I inherited that from my Daddy. My mom snapped a picture of him in the exact same pose, but he wouldn't let her post it. Because, as we already know, he is a fucking spoil sport.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

That's MY Goldfish!

A couple of weeks ago I found a flyer in our mailbox from Scouts Canada. Every year they hold a drive to collect food for the local food bank. Boys as young as five struggle to lug the heavy bags down the stairs and back to their waiting wagons. These kids are from my neighbourhood. Most of them will live a pretty privileged existence and, God willing, will never know what it means to go hungry. I'm glad the Scouts are teaching the kids to give back. I wish our local chapter of Girl Guides did something more visible and beneficial to the community than selling cookies, but that's another story for another day.

I forgot until the morning of the collection to pack our bag of non-perishables. These poor kids were hauling their little asses out of bed at the crack of dawn to collect food for the hungry, the least I could do was make it worth their while. Thinking she was out of the room, I put a package of Goldfish crackers in along with the soups and dried pasta. I don't think getting your meals from a food bank means a mom shouldn't know the silence a bag of Goldfish can provide.

I was in the homestretch when she spied it. Shit.

Cue the howling of a toddler watching her beloved fish crackers headed out the door. Yes, there were two more bags in the cupboard, but dammit, she wanted THOSE Goldfish. I sat down with her on the couch to explain that we were giving some of the food that we have to people who didn't have any. Puzzled, she said "They should buy groceries, Mommy!" Then I tried to have a conversation with a two year old about money. That was fun. Of course she didn't "get" it, but she did agree that sharing her Goldfish would be a nice thing to do, so in the bag they went.

Food bank use levels are still high. A disproportionate number of the people served by those food banks are children. That's kids too hungry to concentrate at school, and it makes me very sad. In about 10 minutes on a Saturday morning I could find enough non-perishable food that I could live without until my next shopping trip to fill a bag. I bet some of the people reading this right now could do the same, so please think about giving to your local food bank.

OK, I'll hop off my soap box now.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

The one where she talks about.... SURPRISE!

Ah, TV. The place where people are (almost) universally happy about surprises. On TV, you can get all the way through a pregnancy and learn "Surprise! It's twins!" and this is good news, no trouble at all! On TV, your hair and makeup are always done when the surprise party is sprung on you. On TV, you find out the person you thought was your father all your life really isn't. Surprise! Then you carry on with Thanksgiving dinner. On TV... well, you get the picture.

In real life, any one of those scenarios would likely put a serious dent in your day. Except the surprise party, because if you're that upset about what you're wearing among friends, you should get some new friends. I plan just about every event in my life, including day to day operations. My clothes are usually laid out the night before, my grocery shopping is done around my meal plans for the week and vacation plans are started as soon as I get back from the last one. I like order, and I like to know what's happening next.

Knowing this, you should be able to guess how much I like surprises. I like the idea of surprises. I have a friend whose husband plans romantic getaways for them all the time. I ooh and ahh about it and think I feel a little pang of jealousy, but if The Husband were to surprise me in a similar fashion I'd be pretty pissed. Luckily he knows me well enough to know that springing things on me is A Very Bad Idea. Another friend welcomed her son 8 days ago, and she had no idea what she was having until the minute he was born. I, on the other hand, freaked the hell out when The Parasite wouldn't cooperate through many, many ultrasounds.

I like to think I'll turn over a new leaf and suddenly become more spontaneous, with a devil may care attitude about what is to come. But the thought of doing something, anything, without at least a framework is making me feel like a case of the hives is coming on. I guess I'll just accept that it's just not in my nature. One day The Parasite is going to have quite the pout because Mom can't just get up and go somewhere without first making a list and checking it thrice. But maybe I'll redeem myself the day I produce an umbrella, dry socks and a cup of hot chocolate at exactly the right moment...

This post is part of GBE2 - Week #26 word prompt: Surprises! Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

How does she do it?

It's early. Really early. I went to bed at a reasonable hour and there was no drinking involved last night, but it's the kind of early that coffee can't help because it's caffeine, not a magic potion. The Parasite is up and at 'em. And playful. And cheerful. When she's not whining, which is scientifically proven to be highly irritating. I try to be patient with her in the very early morning, and some days I manage to do pretty well at it.

Today is not one of those days.

I love her with every fibre of my being, but goddamn it this kid is getting on my nerves. I know it's not her fault, she's just being two. I also know I'm the grown up here so I need to pull it together, at least until nap time when I can recharge my batteries too. Between now and then I'll have to do my best to stifle the inner monologue that is really a foul-mouthed tirade about the fucking blue cup and NO I won't dirty another dish because of completely unreasonable demands, you little terrorist. Jesus! Go eat your damn bagel with the topping YOU asked for on it. Penis butter indeed!

Please tell me I'm not the only one who occasionally finds my kid really annoying.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Things I Learned on the Internet #3 - Double baggin' it!

Thanks to the tip on The Eye of Sauron your little one's little heiney is no longer getting soaked in public bathrooms. Fantastic! You're thinking it's time to ditch the nighttime diaper but fear nocturnal accidents. Can't say I blame you, fitted crib sheets are a pain in the ass in the harsh light of day. Dealing with them in the dead of night? Forget it! That's why I'm glad a wise mom on the internet once shared the trick of double bagging it. What? Well, you know how many words a picture is worth...

This is actually a clean bed, but let's pretend it's one in need of changing at 3:00 in the morning:

What's this under here? A waterproof mattress pad? Well that's not terribly innovative...

 

A-ha! But under the mattress pad there is... ANOTHER SHEET! 

Sheet, waterproof mattress pad, sheet. It'll save your life. Or at least your night's sleep. Yes, you still have to deal with the laundry in the morning, but very quickly you can return your child's bed to it's usual, ordered state and march yourself back to bed. Yeah, I don't know where she sleeps either.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Lest we Forget

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields

- Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, 1872-1918

The one where she talks about wild oats

In my garden, there is a raspberry bush. I bought it this year and took literally months to get it in the ground, and I wasn't even the one who finally planted it. Much to much to my surprise, it has bloomed and brought forth a tiny crop of raspberries. I'm not much of a gardener, but since The Husband finally got around to planting it (after giving up on me EVER getting around to it), The Little Raspberry Bush That Could seems to be doing OK. It may or may not survive the first killing frost. I mean, there are lots of raspberry farms not too far away, so it's not like the harsh climate is a problem. THAT is nature.

That same raspberry bush, in better soil with more sunlight and a homeowner who actually thought to sprinkle it with some water once in a while, might thrive. There might be a flowing crop of raspberries coming from the bush with many more crops to come. It would be properly pruned and probably covered as the winter months approach. THAT is nurture.

It's entirely possible The Little Raspberry Bush That Could is just really tough, the kind of plant that can make it in spite of neglect. I bet there's some people like that, too. It's equally possible it won't make it through the winter and I'll find myself buying a new raspberry bush next year. Which is fine, when we're talking about a plant. I think you'll all be relieved to know I take a far less laissez-faire approach to raising my child.

Can you make a kid born lacking intelligence a genius with the right parenting? No, but you can make things easier for them academically with lots of love and support. Can you make a child dealt an unfortunate hand in the looks department prettier? No, but you can make them feel beautiful on the inside, and that will show on the outside to the right people. You can't make a basketball star out of a really short kid or a quarterback out of one that can't throw, but you can make a person that tries really hard. Like plants, you can't change the stuff people are made of, but you can still give them the right conditions to grow.

This post is part of GBE2 - Week #25 word prompt: Nature vs. Nurture. Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Wayback Playback: Why I hate contemporary art

My surgery is a done deal. While I recover, I'm digging through the archives of a now-abandoned journal for some of my old faves. This was originally posted on April 24, 2008 after a trip to New York City. It was our last hurrah as couple with no kids. I'm sorry I wasted some of it on contemporary art.


I'll admit it, I am not exactly an art connoisseur. I like pictures of things that I can recognize. I don't mind if it's a little "out of focus" looking, like Monet. Heck, I can even take the loose interpretations of Van Gogh. Take this Monet for example. It's so well known it borders on cliched but I love the whole series anyway, so THERE! :P



There is a texture to it, created by brushstrokes and layers of colours that is abstract and precise at the same time, coming together to form something that is magnificent to behold:



And then... there is Contemporary Art, like Picasso:


If it weren't for the tits, I'd have no idea this represented a person. In fact, I'm still not completely convinced.

How about Jackson Pollock?


Some guy named Fred who paints houses for a living has a drop cloth that looks just like this in the back of his pickup truck.

And then, there is the truly offensive. The swill that sycophantic twats in galleries all over the world swoon over, while the rest of us wonder what the fuck this world is coming to. Like this one, with a tag that reads "In the last 10 years of his life, Reinhardt focused solely on square black paintings." Now you're wondering if there is seriously a square, black painting hanging in a gallery somewhere, right?



Yes, there is. At MOMA, in fact. If this is high art, I'm Wonder Woman. It made me want to say Fuck. Right. Off. to the half-wit at the museum who stood in front of this thing and said out loud "It just speaks to me on so many levels." No it doesn't. Go look at a sheet of black construction paper and see if it says the same thing, you moron. This is not moving, it's doesn't "speak to anyone," other than as a profound insult to the intelligence of gallery visitors every day.

Because of the proliferation of shit like the black painting above, and the installation that that was a fountain and a strobe light masquerading as art, I give contemporary art two thumbs down. Or one finger up. Whatever.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Wayback Playback: Screw it! I'll just pay for the lipo

My surgery is later today. While I deal with some prep work, I'm digging through the archives of a now-abandoned journal for some of my old faves. This was originally posted on March 25, 2007. Apparently some things, like my potty-mouth and challenges with exercise, never change.


I like boxing. It's a great workout, and let's face it, from time to time we ALL want to beat the crap out of someone something. Sadly, my home is only slightly bigger than a shoe box, so my dreams of having my very own heavy bag to beat the living snot out of after a hard day at The Bank could not be realized. Not wanting to see her daughter go without something so obviously beneficial to her mental health, my mom bought me a Bally Boxer for Christmas. And then forgot all about it until my birthday eight weeks later. At least we know I'm not adopted.

The Bally Boxer is like one of those giant "Punch the Clown" things you had at birthday parties when you were a kid. OK, maybe YOU didn't have them at YOUR birthday parties, but it's not MY fault you led a sheltered life. You filled the base with water, and the kids took turns knocking ol' Chuckles down until he could get up no more. Training for sociopaths? Perhaps. Anyway, here is what the grown up version looks like:


See, water in the base, air in the top, and Bob's your uncle. EXCEPT! If you're ever planning to buy one of these things, you should know there is a flaw in the design. The base is filled with water because that's what weighs it down. Weighs it down = makes it heavy, for those who need things spelled out, as I apparently do. When you fill things with water, inevitably some will not make it into the container. And wet things get slippery, (Ah, STFU! What are you, twelve?) and wet things that are slippery - and ARE HEAVY! - are hard to handle. You might accidentally drop the flimsy plastic piece of shit (formerly known as the Bally Boxer) on the hard surface that is your kitchen floor. And do you know what happens next?



After a great deal of swearing, standing ankle deep in ice cold water in your kitchen, you might get one hell of a workout laughing until your sides hurt as you mop up the giant fucking mess made by the giant fucking hole in your flimsy plastic piece of shit (formerly known as the Bally Boxer). And with that, I have had enough exercise for today. I also think it's late enough in the day to start drinking.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

The big day

Tomorrow is the day of my (not that) long-awaited surgery. I'm working from home in the morning before my date with The Vagina Artist in the afternoon. Bow-chicka-bowow! Oh, wait. The Husband is coming with me, so that's not nearly as sexy as it sounds. Even if the doctor is kind of hot. I mean, he'll be up to his elbows in my hoohah. There's just no bringing sexy back from there.

You'd think after a tumour removal during pregnancy and an C-section under a general I'd be kind of blase about a little polyp being taken out with a glorified vacuum and a really long straw. I'm not. I'm kind of dreading the whole thing. But what it boils down to is this: I want another baby. To have another baby, I need to undergo fertility treatments. They won't start the fertility treatments until I have the surgery. So off I go!

I'm dusting off some old faves from a now-defunct journal for your reading pleasure while I recover. Now I'm going to take an extra long time cuddling The Parasite at bedtime so I can remind myself why this is all worthwhile. G'night!

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Deck the Halls

So I was walking around the grocery store today and had a hard time manoeuvring the cart in a lot of spots. That is because I couldn't get around all the fucking CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. Dear Retailers, I am not ready for the holiday season. It is 14C and gloriously sunny today in the Great White North. I drove home with the windows down and the stereo volume up to get the Christmas carols out of my head. Speaking of Christmas carols, why the hell is "Jingle Bells" now firmly lodged in my brain?

How do YOU feel about Christmas invading the stores in early November?

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Lack of focus

I have a habit of picking things up and putting them down, never to be considered again. Case in point: See this sweater?

Isn't that a pretty, cheery colour? Don't you think it would look lovely on a little girl? Me too! Little girls that have Mommies who knit should have cute little sweaters. That's why I took a class to learn to knit a sweater for The Parasite. Last March. It has been sitting, half done in the state pictured above, on a table since the beginning of April. If I don't pick it up again soon she will outgrow it before she even gets a chance to wear it.

I look forward to Saturday all week. It's the best day of the week because I don't have to go to work tomorrow either! I can sleep in if I want to, and after a long week of dragging myself out of bed when the alarm goes off I'm very excited about a little snooze. So you can imagine my displeasure when I awoke this morning at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. My toddler didn't get up until 7:00, so I can't blame her. I can just chalk it up to mediocre luck in the sleeping in department.

See! I did it again. I started telling a story about a sweater and then I got sidetracked by a whine about waking up too early. I lack focus in unstructured environments. However, I function VERY well in a project setting. Sure, I procrastinate and leave most things until I have exactly enough time to get them done just as they're due, but I get it done. What I need here is a deadline, and here it is: The Parasite will look adorable in that sweater at the annual family Christmas party hosted by The Husband's company. I'll take pictures!

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Programming Note

I have a juicy one for "Ask the Host" in the works and I promise it will be posted... tomorrow. Right now I need to talk to you about something of the utmost importance. About subject that is very near and dear to my heart. Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to talk to you a little about...

WINE! I love wine, and it loves me. Second only to my love of wine is my love of good food. (Oh right, my husband and child fit in there... somewhere) When you put good wine and good food together, magical, wonderful things happen. Every sentence is more meaningful when it's punctuated by a bite or a sip of your fantastic fancy grape juice.

That's why Bewildered Bug and I have joined forces to put on an evening of wine and food with a bunch of fun people. Well, we hope a bunch of fun people come out. If they're not, there's no problem a little wine won't fix. So if you're in Toronto and you like food and wine and cool people, you should come out! I had my wedding reception at this restaurant. It is fantastic, but cozy. When we say space is limited, I am not kidding. If you're interested, please register today!

We are asking for a deposit to confirm interest. For the record, Bewildered Bug aren't making a nickel from this event, and we're paying our own way too.

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

The one where she talks about the A List

Popularity didn't become important to me until I saw The Breakfast Club. Or maybe it was Pretty in Pink. In grade school you played with who you played with in the school yard. The "friends" came and went to different parts of the jungle gym and the notion of a "best friend" was completely foreign.  I don't know when it happened, but suddenly some people's friendship was more valued than others.

Those kids became the "popular" kids and the rest of us (because it should come as a surprise to precisely nobody that I wasn't one of them) just made do with the friends we were playing with all along. Sometimes we no longer played with one of the people we used to play with, but kid friendships are just like that and we carried on with our day. And then we got a little older and we saw John Hughes movies and learned we were supposed to envy the popular kids. We were supposed to emulate them, to covet their friendship at the expense of the people who were already in our lives.

Seriously? I didn't envy the people in the fish bowl. I didn't much care about them one way or the other. I had a great group of friends, many of whom are still in my life today. I wonder what it will be like for my daughter growing up in a post-John Hughes world. Will she always know she's supposed to want to be one of the popular kids? I suppose she will. But will she focus on surrounding herself with people who love her and support her, no matter who their friends are? I certainly hope so! Because now that I'm out in the big, bad world, I have no idea who was popular in high school.

This post is part of GBE2 - Week #24 word prompt: Popularity. For more info,  click here. Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Wordless Wednesday: Dinosaur Profile

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

NaBloPoMo: The Sequel

Alright, NaBloPoMo - I'm in! Again. I've got a few goodies that came in for Ask the Host, a couple of Things I Learned on the Internet to share and of course I'll have an update from my appointment with The Vagina Artist. This month's theme is Blogging for Blogging's sake. I think that might mean a whole lot of words without saying very much, so naturally I expect to win many, many prizes. *ahem*

I also will do my damndest to visit every, single one of the now 600+ blogs on the NaBloPoMo blogroll. While having and recovering from surgery. And working a whole bunch. And that whole, you know, raising a child thing. Looks like November is going to be a busy month. So what else is new?

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!