New Year's Resolutions

It's that time of year again when people make New Year's resolutions (that most will not uphold for longer than a couple of weeks). I like to make resolutions but at the same time I also like to keep it real.

I should be resolving to lose 10-15 pounds or giving up my (several) daily Iced Cappuccinos bbbuuuuttt I won't because the chances of me following through are about the same as me marrying an Arabian Prince and sailing away on a magic carpet -not going to happen.

In the past I have resolved to things like stop biting my nails, a disgusting little habit that I picked up at a young age and I associated with stress. Imagine the coincidence that the year I resolved to quit that habit I also got rid of a major source of stress -my ex-husband and successful stuck to my resolution. Last year I resolved to do more for charity. I'm pleased to report that this year along side the Crazy Mamas we collected $1000 in donations to the MS Society of Canada and participated in their MS Walk not to mention the bags and bags of clothes and toys that (finally) left my house and went to the Salvation Army.

This year I plan to make a resolution as well and am narrowing down the list of attainable goals:

1. Lose 5 pounds? Sure I can do that...I think.

2. Keep the Magic Pumpkin clean (on the inside, the outside is a lost cause on a dirt road)? Let's be real, I'm not likely going to be able to keep that one for more than a couple of months. I have 3 kids.

3. Get my family back on a night time routine that includes baths for the boys...every night -one should not have to smell their child to determine whether or not they are due for a bath (it's not that bad but close)?

4. De-clutter my house! Needs to be done in a serious way.


I think it will be number 3 or 4...or both. Either way I plan to stick to my New Year's resolution unlike those people resolving to get into shape or quit smoking or lose 25 pounds or whatever other less attainable thing only a small percentage of them will actually succeed at.

Happy New Year and good luck in 2010!



*Post your New Year's resolutions in the comment section. I'm dying to hear what you plan to resolve this year :).

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!

I love snow. Maybe my northern blood runs deep, I don't know but I truly love the fluffy stuff. Mind you I live on a farm and we don't shovel snow, we plow it, that helps. I don't work outside in it so that isn't an issue for me. In fact snow actually helps business at the Donut Shack. There is nothing like a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate on a snowy day.

I love just about everything about snow. I like the way it looks, the way it feels, the way it crunches, the way it covers all the yucky leaves in my flowerbeds left over from the fall, the way it blows in little swirls, the way it drifts, and if my memory serves me right I do remember from my younger years I like the way it tastes (now I know that there is a good chance of ingesting dog urine or something else nasty with a mouth full of chilly snow, a chance I'm not willing to take with 2 dogs in the yard).

I don't even mind driving in the snow as long as it isn't white out conditions. I would rather drive in snow than rain actually. I'm not afraid to take my time when needed. I have an auto start on my magic pumpkin so I rarely have to sweep snow from my windshield and my vehicle is not to bad to drive on the slippery roads.

The only things I don't like about snow are that is slows down the school bus that picks up Little Bear in the morning which in turn slows me down to drop Fuzzy off at daycare and makes it a close call for me to get to work on time and the dirty mess the salt on the roads makes of my magic pumpkin (not really the snow that does that so I guess that isn't really something I don't like about snow).

I would much rather have months of snowy weather than a week of super hot summery weather. I love snow so all you anti-snow bellyachers suck it up and let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Laugh It Up

Lately I have found myself wanting to blog but not having anything to write that other people will want to read about. At first I thought maybe I was suffering from "Creativity Constipation" again but that wasn't it. I had lots I wanted to say but most of it would have been gloomy and depressing and that is NOT what this blog is about.

I have now realized that with all kinds of stupid serious stuff going on around me I have forgotten to laugh at life. A long time ago I decided that when life gets complicated a person can either laugh about it or cry about it. I choose laugh. Laugh till my sides hurt. Laugh until I forget that I was close to crying.

What fun is life if you can't take a crappy situation and find the humor in it? So far in my life I have found the humor in unplanned pregnancy (unplanned but never unwanted), having a "Monster in Law", job stress, child rearing woes, divorce, single parenting, having to sell my home, and so many other life experiences that could have broken me if I let them.

I'm not the only one that benefits from being able to laugh at the crappy stuff. When I look for and find the humor in situations and then share it with my friends, family and readers it can help them to find humor in their serious stuff.

A favourite saying is: when life hands you lemons there are 2 kinds of people -those that make lemonade and those that cry about having lemons. Time to build a new stand because I'm going to make a whole lot of lemonade.

Time to get back where I want to be. From here on out I, SlightlyInsaneStacey vow to climb back on the wagon and laugh it up.

Pretty as a Picture

Like most proud Mamas I enjoy dressing my 4 men up in their fancy digs for Christmas pictures. This year I decided just to skip it. Not because I wanted to by any means but because my family looks like they have survived a car accident after a plane crash.

It's not unusual for one of my kids to bang their head or something the day before pictures but usually a little touch up of the photos or a Santa hat are easy fixes. This year there is no easy fix.

Until yesterday when I finally just took Little Bear to Walmart for a haircut he was walking around looking like Benji the Shaggy Dog. Our hairdresser broke her arm before his last regular haircut but tried her best. -Her best is not HIS best look. No big deal, had I followed through on family pictures I would have taken him for his expensive discount haircut sooner.

When I picked Fuzzy up from daycare the week before last he was sporting carpet burn from the end of his nose, between his eyes, to his hairline. (Due to the fact that I have never had a problem with my daycare and they have always been really great I did not feel the need to have a melt down about them not providing the safest care for my child. Things happen, this happened. He will live). The carpet burn went from a bright red group of patches to a lovely dark scar between his eyes. Just as the carpet burn marks were beginning to fade another facial blemish took it's place. Little Bear tells the story like this: "I was reading a book (one of Wee Ones board books) and I got so excited that I 'accidentally' threw the book and it hit Fuzzy in the eye". Now Fuzzy has a black eye...


I have never had a cold sore in my whole entire life, ever. Last week my face was completely taken over by one. Not only did I get an ugly little sore but I looked like I lost a heavy weight bout and sported a fat lip that extended up into my right cheek. Gross and not very picturesque. My eyebrows are also in serious need of a waxing.

The scariest of all these issues is the reason Wee One will not be getting his Christmas pictures taken this year. I got a call on Sunday at work from Papa Bear saying only that I needed to meet him at the hospital, that Wee One had hit his head and he had called an ambulance. -Not really enough information to stop a Mama from losing it. Not knowing what the situation was or if Wee One was even conscious I headed to the hospital to wait for the ambulance...which took forever and provided me with lots of time to imagine the worst. When my little peanut was finally unloaded from an ambulance laying strapped to a backboard and wearing a neck brace it was easy to see why we were there. Between Wee One's eyes was a gaping hole. He had been running around and fell and hit his face on one of the only two stairs in our house. The amount of blood that resulted was what prompted Papa Bear to call the ambulance. Only three stitches and some glue to repair the wound but still not something I want to repeat. Though with three crazy boys I'm sure this was not our last experience with stitches.

Over all our family portrait was likely to look more like the cast from The Night of the Living Dead. I think I will wait until we are all looking as pretty as a picture and then just stick some Santa hats on everyone and no one will be the wiser.

Wordless Wednesday 5

Yeah I know I missed one...

H1N1ing The Bear Family

After much debate, reading and information gathering I made the decision that the Bear family should get the H1N1 vaccine.

I had to decide how we would go about all 5 of us getting our vaccine. Should I take the 2 youngest by myself during the day and then go back with Papa Bear and Little Bear after school or should I just brave it and load the Magic Pumpkin with all 5 of us and get it done in 1 trip. The thoughts of the long lines and 3 small kids resulted in all 5 of us going together.

The line waiting started out not too bad...and then my kids got ants in their pants... Wee One wanted nothing more than to free himself from Papa Bear's arms and run. Fuzzy felt the need to touch EVERYTHING in the church that held the clinic. Nativity scenes, Christmas trees and a wall of pamphlets. Nothing was off limits to him. It's a good thing we got vaccinated against H1N1 because I'm sure he picked something else up by touching all available germ coated surfaces and then doing what he spends half his day doing - picking his nose. Little Bear was just happy to have an audience and insisted on asking a string of difficult to answer questions at the top of his lungs to see me squirm trying to come up with answers that the room full of people were waiting for.

Thankfully the line moved fairly quickly. The next step was to fill out paperwork for each of us while the kids waited "patiently". After completing the papers we got into another line that also moved pretty well. Little Bear was pretty worried about getting a shot and was beginning to show it. When asked who was going to go first Little Bear was quick to say not him. Fuzzy hopped up on the chair like a champ and announced that he wanted to go first. Poor little booger had no idea what he was first for.

None of my children are really any problem when they get their shots but it still surprised me how well Fuzzy took his. Not a sound or a flinch. Nothing. Fuzzy is my new hero. I HATE needles but I had my brave face on for my boys. No way was I going to get Little Bear in that chair if I didn't pretend it was no big deal. After Fuzzy and I were done Little Bear decided it didn't look so bad and he was ready for his turn. He let out a little scream and a tear came to his eye and then he was fine. I think Wee One was more pissed off with being held still when he wanted to go rather than upset about the shot. Papa Bear looked a little pale and apparently was more worked up about the shot than he was letting on too because the nurse had to tell him to relax or it was going to hurt more.

All in all the 15 minutes they make you wait before leaving after your shot was far worse than the actual vaccine. The kids just wanted to leave or eat the manhandled snacks that were available to everyone and their uncle. 15 minutes has rarely seemed so long. Finally we were released. All in all not too bad.

Other than some pretty freaking noticeable pain in both Papa Bear and my own arm everyone did well and it seems we have escaped any serious reactions. The Bear family has successfully been H1N1ed

Wordless Wednesday 5

I wish I could learn to "zip it" more often...


Unfortunately this is all I have for you guys in a week. A lot of stuff going on that is preventing me from posting much.

Wordless Wednesday 4

Freaking love it!




*Those are urinals if you didn't catch that :)

Is It Really About A Button?

Why do some people get so worked up and pissed off over the most trivial of things? Why waste the energy ranting and raving about something silly. If it doesn't effect your life in a major (or even a minor) way why bother giving it the kind of attention that only ends up making you look like a moron?

Yesterday X has a complete hissy fit over a missing button (which actually turned out to be a snap) on Little Bear's jeans that I packed for him for his overnight visit. A complete freak out where he attacked my character, my parenting skills and even my relationship (or lack of) with my family. I was glad to see that after almost 3 years of us being apart he hasn't lost any of his...."charm".

He was beyond pissed off over something so silly. Did I know that the pants were missing a snap? Yes, yes I did (I was a little behind in my laundry and I don't send school clothes to come back ripped or stained) and to make up for the missing snap I provided a belt and even looped it through the jeans to make sure it wasn't missed. Also, X has access to a washer and dryer and Little Bear went to his father's in a pair of pants with snap fully intact. There was absolutely no reason for the melt down.

So after a string of insults and name calling which I will admit to participating in (wrong? Sure but sometimes when someone is just being that ridiculous it is fun to play along.) I finally stopped answering back to his texts and Facebook messages and ultimately ending the game for both of us. In the end, Little Bear's jeans were still missing a snap and X had done a pretty good job of reminding me why I spent all that money on a divorce and made an ass of himself publicly on my Facebook profile.

When X came to drop the boys off later in the evening he was completely cool. As if the morning exchange hadn't happened. Like a 3 year old who had finished his temper tantrum and moved on.

This whole situation made me stop and think, is it really about a button or is there a bigger deep seeded issue there. Can someone really allow themselves to get that worked into a tither over a freaking button?

41 More Days...

There are 41 more days until that big day...Christmas. By this time last year I had all my Christmas shopping done and was laughing at the poor suckers that had to deal with the crowded stores and long lines at cash registers. This year I have barely started. Last year I would have been bugging Papa Bear to help me put up the Christmas tree and string the outdoor lights. This year I am just not feeling the Christmas spirit yet.

Maybe it has to do with the 60 degree weather we are having in the middle of November or the lack of funds in my bank account to buy presents with that is causing me to drag my butt. Maybe the pumpkins still sitting on the front porch or the leaves still on the trees that are holding me up.

I have tuned the radio in the magic pumpkin to the station that plays nothing but Christmas music starting in early November and started making a list of who I need to buy for and some ideas of what to buy but still not feeling it. I have started a count down with the boys and talked to Fuzzy about Santa and where he lives and what he is doing but that isn't helping either.

Usually I am a Christmas nut. I am known to drive people nuts singing Christmas songs at work or forcing passengers in the magic pumpkin to listen to and sing along with the seasonal tunes.

This year I just feel kind of...well bah humbugish. I hope the spirit finds me soon. Maybe if we were to get a whole mess of snow dumped on us that would be the ticket. Here's to hoping...

Wordless Wednesday 3

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, Remember

5000!

5000 hits on this blog since June 8th, 2009. Thank you :)

Sleep Deprivation via 3 Year Old

I am suffering from a case of sleep deprivation via 3 year old. I am slowly being sucked of all rest by my 3 year old, Fuzzy. For almost 2 weeks now he has developed a habit that is seriously messing with my much needed beauty sleep. He has been getting up, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 3:30 in the morning ready to start his day.

The 3:30 a.m. wake up call usually comes in the form of him shouting from his room for Papa Bear or I at the top of his lungs which accomplishes 2 things - startling us from slumber and usually waking up Wee One. I know you're thinking, big deal, go in, comfort him and he will go back to sleep...WRONG!

When I stumble to his room (which requires me to pass through the kitchen and past the table and other likely toe stubbing obstacles) and open the door he is almost always sitting in his bed with the light on looking much like most people do at 9 a.m. He looks well rested and ready to go and requesting a toy that he can't reach.

I have approached this situation from all angles. I have tried to get him to lay back down and stay with him hoping for him to go back to sleep. I end up in some contorted position in his toddler sized race car bed, half asleep myself, being poked in the nose or having my eyelids forced open by his tiny fingers. This results in some serious back/leg/neck/shoulder pain and a little boy who not only is wide awake but having a good time at my expense.

I have tried tough love and told him point blank that it is time for bed and I am not coming into his room again. This only makes him cry (gradually getting louder and louder), makes me feel like worlds worst mama and doesn't get either of us any closer to getting back to sleep.

I have tried a few other things like giving him a book or a stuffed animal or something to do until he (in theory) falls back to sleep. This just sets me up for a series of requests for several different items until I get mad or the alarm clock goes off.

The only solution, which isn't really a solution but me giving in is when Papa Bear has to leave for work at 2:30 a.m, filling his spot in the bed with Fuzzy. For some reason there is a difference between his bed and mine. There is no nose poking or eyelid raising in my bed. He just lays there and either falls asleep or is at least quiet and still enough for me to.

Though the last option works for me to get some sleep it is not at all the solution I am looking for. I am anti-kid-in-the-bed. I am getting some sleep but not at all quality sleep and waking constantly. Fuzzy uses up as much or more of our queen sized the bed than Papa Bear. He tosses and turns and likes my pillow better than his own or Papa Bear's.

I really hope this is just a phase because it is really getting old and I am seriously in need of more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep. At the rate we're going, if this continues the zombification of Mama will be complete by the end of November.



* Just a note that blogging while sleep deprived results in an extra long proof reading and spell checking process...zzz...

Wordless Wednesday 2

I went shopping today (only 4 days after Halloween) and found that someone went and "Christmasfied" everything already. Tis SORTA the season...

Trick or Treat

BOO! Tis Halloween. One of the most fun days of the year. This year I had three of my stinkers for the occasion. (Last year the two oldest boys spent Halloween with X). I dressed Wee One as the cutest little spider you have ever seen. Fuzzy was a beaver, fully equipped with big beaverish tail and bucked teeth. I thought Little Bear, who is now 6.5 would want to be Spider Man or a Transformer or something like that but no, he choose to be a giant banana. OK son as you wish. I tried really hard to get Papa Bear to dress up as a cow and I would be a milk maid (appropriate since Papa Bear is a milkman) but no go. Little by little I am "helping" Papa Bear to be a little less serious but that was just too big a step this year. I did however talk him into putting on his coveralls and boots to match me in my overalls, rubber boots, plaid shirt, pigtails and straw hat to be a farmer and his wife. (I will work on the cow thing for next year).

I grew up in town where we trick or treated by going door to door collecting candy from each house in our neighbourhood so that at the end of the night we were as tired as our treat bags were full...VERY. We live in the country now and country people trick or treat differently. Country folk DRIVE door to door and though they don't get much exercise or go to half as many houses they still end up with as much booty. In the country you know all the people who's door you knock on. They are expecting you and instead of dropping a couple of chocolate bars in your bag and sending you on your way they drop a meal in your bag.

In town you were lucky to get a couple of cans of pop and a few full size chocolate bars mixed in with your millions of tiny chocolate bars and miniature bags of chips. In the country you get cartons of milk, juice boxes, cookies, bags made up with fruit snacks and crackers and other more healthy goodies.

We went to nine houses in total. Most in the country and a few in town. We still managed to come home with three well stocked bags of goodies. Papa Bear and I being such good parents, took care of a good portion of the chocolate goodies after the boys went to bed as to preserve their dental health or course.

All in all I think country trick or treating was the best bet this year. It was really cold out so it was kind of nice to only be out from the van to the house and back again. I think all three boys had fun even though I'm pretty sure Wee One didn't have a clue what was going on or why we made him wear such funny clothes. I'm looking forward to next year already.

Edited to add (and I don't know how I forgot this part), that I'm pretty sure Papa Bear had a good time too especially since one of our neighbours who just happens to be pretty frigging hot for her age, answered the door soaking wet in only a towel fresh out of the shower. I guess you could say that was Papa Bears "treat". Happy Halloween Papa Bear and Happy Halloween to you too!

Wordless Wednesday

So I've decided to jump on the Wordless Wednesday bandwagon. At least that way even if I don't blog for a couple of days you will at least get a new picture to look at on Wednesdays. Looking at the clock I better move it to make it Wordless Wednesday instead of Thursday.

Here's what I did today:


OK, so maybe not totally "wordless" Wednesday because truthfully I just have too many words to just shut up :)

Park It

Parking. I am not a perfect parker by any means but what the heck are other people doing?

First off, those yellow lines painted all over the asphalt are not there just as decoration. You are actually supposed to park your vehicle in between them. Not on them or across them but in between them. All vehicles fit between them so don't even use the excuse of driving a larger vehicle that doesn't fit because it does indeed fit you are just a twit.

I just love those people who park diagonally across two spots (also known as the Dual Space Dingaling) so no one can park near them and accidentally put a door ding in precious door panel or scratch your paint - you're driving a 1982 AMC Concord with the bumper half hanging off and baby crap brown interior. A door ding is the least of your worries. (Just a note, I never parked that way when I drove that exact vehicle).These people are especially annoying during the Christmas rush when it is already difficult to find a spot without this dingalings using up two spots. (I used to be married to one of these such dingalings).

Another person I "adore" is the person that parks far too close on one side (also known as the Line Rider). It's cool I will just unload myself and my three kids through the six inch crevice you have left me between our vehicles. I rather enjoyed buffing the side of your car with my right butt cheek. I hope in return you enjoyed the small sized hand/tongue prints also on the side of your car you moron.

The ones that park too far forward in a space (the Depth Perceptionally Impaired) are fun too. I have two options with this one. I can either skip parking across from you and opt for the space ten miles further from the store entrance (oh how I love trying to keep all of my children wrangled while we walk for ten extra minutes from the far beyond) or I can park across from you and leave the butt end of my magic pumpkin (orange Grand Caravan) sticking out in the aisle and risk parking a van and coming back to a compact. Thank you for leaving me choices.

It's not just parking lot parkers that are idiots. Parkade parkers have left me hanging (literally) on the side of the parkade cement wall (thanks for the little bump from behind, that was nice of you) and street side parallel parkers have left me holding up traffic while they inch in, and then back out, and in again, and out, and in again to a space that they clearly don't fit in or they just haven't a clue how to parallel park to begin with and should therefor carry on to a parking lot.

If you can't park in one single paring space, between the lines, leaving space for your neighbour to enter and exit their vehicle, perhaps you should just walk and save others the headache of having to deal with the results of your inadequate parking skills.

Home Party Overload :S

I like home parties. You know the little parties that tend to be mostly a girl thing where we get together at somebody's house, a product consultant gives a little presentation or demonstration of their products and the rest of us are supposed to buy stuff so the hostess can earn free stuff or discounts all the while socializing, eating fattening goodies and drinking wine. I like these parties but lately it has been home party overload.

In less than three months I have been to a Fantasia party (adult umm..toys), a Passions party (more adult toys - the Crazy Mamas really are a bit crazy), two Stampin Up (card making stamps), a Latasia party (jewelery) and my favorite a She She party (purses and accessories). That is a bit much I think.

I really enjoy the social part of these shindigs. I like the conversation and food and just getting together (usually with the Crazy Mamas plus a few). It's the part where I'm expected to make a purchase that is the trouble. Especially if you aren't a fan of the product or with that many parties close together, run out of "extra" cash.

The Fantasia and Passions parties are a fun time but really there is only so much I can purchase before Papa Bear will start to worry he isn't doing his job (no worries ;)). Stampin Up products are great and fun to use. Chesty McBreasty and I have big plans to make all our own Christmas cards this year but we should probably get started on that before...well..Christmas! The Latasia party wasn't really my thing. In my opinion it was overpriced costume jewelery. If I'm going to spend much money on jewelery it's going to be on quality pieces. She She parties could get me into trouble. Who doesn't need another purse? or wallet? or scarf? Super cute bags for reasonable prices.

I have one more She She party to go to next month and then I am taking a hiatus from home parties. So if you were going to send me an invite for any such parties save your time...I'm not going! I don't need anymore lotions (etc.), stamps, jewelery or purses...OK maybe another purse.

Cleaning out the Bear Cave

Little Bear and Fuzzy are gone on a trip to Montreal with X for five days and will be returning tomorrow. For about two weeks prior to their departure I have been trying to get Little Bear to clean up the disaster formerly known as his bedroom. I have always helped him in the past but ended up doing most of the cleaning myself and decided that at age six (and a half as he so proudly proclaims) it was time for him to do the majority himself. After all I'm not the one that gets to play in there and make forts and build "inventions". Little Bear has proved to be far more stubborn than I ever thought possible and has been holding his ground on NOT cleaning the room.

He has not had TV privileges since the two week dispute started, not that he really cares because he doesn't really watch all that much TV. He has started a bit and then gotten sidetracked with a drawing project or such which has prevented him from making much progress. Throughout the two weeks I have threatened that if he didn't clean up the room before he went to Montreal with his father I was going to clean the room while he was gone and there wouldn't be nearly as much stuff in there to make a mess when I was done. I told him that I was going to get rid of a lot of stuff since he claims that things don't have a place. I am a person who likes to stick to their word and so that was my intention.

This giant task was on my Saturday Itinerary but was....ummm....held up (by my procrastination and lack of motivation) so with the boys returning tomorrow I had no choice but to tackle the job tonight after dinner. What a task it was. I'm pretty sure the kid was saving every bit of paper he has ever wrote a single letter or digit on. Every school paper, greeting card, instruction sheet, clothing tag, anything that had a picture or writing on it was scattered around the room. He had everything from baby toys to leftover hardware to a collection of old hardballs and a box of tissue paper and batteries. You name it, it was in that mess.

Two hours later and I had found the source of that strange smell, two pairs of "missing" underwear, the "misplaced" portable DVD player (that is my early morning salvation when Little Bear takes it into Fuzzy's room and they watch a DVD at seven o'clock in the morning instead of jumping on my bed) and about a dozen socks (some clean, some dirty, hardly any of them matching). Two garbage bags of trash and a large rubbermaid tub of "sell it or donate it" stuff. Three dustpan loads of dirt and tiny junk and a pile of "too small" clothes. Two hours later and I am done!

From here on out I do not want to hear that things don't have a place because if it didn't have a place it found a place in one of those garbage bags. There are now a series of plastic containers to be labeled. One for dinky cars, one for small tractors, one for his collection of Lightning McQueen cars, two for trains and one of small plastic animals. There is a container for crayons and markers and a SMALL box of school paper that he might want to hang on to for a while. There are no dirty clothes on the floor and the spring horse whose head fell off is now fully repaired.

The tote of "sell it or donate it" stuff will be up to Little Bear. He can sell it and use the money as he likes (to save or spend on something like a new video game-that doesn't take up much room) or he can donate it to the kids that don't have much or both. Usually he picks a few to sell and a donates the rest. Either way it is leaving my house.

I'm now anticipating Little Bear's reaction tomorrow. It will either be one of horror for all the things that are now gone or glee for not having to clean up the room himself and having a nice clean room. Horror or glee, the Bear cave has been conquered and I am a much happier mama though he may be a sad bear.

Saturday Itinerary

Today was supposed to be a day of great accomplishments. Well at least on the housework front anyway. Today's itinerary was supposed to consist of tackling the mountain of laundry (that actually looks more like an exploded volcano), cleaning out the boys' dressers (which contain almost as many summer and "too small" clothes as they do wearable clothes), washing the kitchen floor (oh how I wish I just had an inside dog that would lick messes up and give the illusion of clean) and conquer the disaster that I'm sure when we moved into Papa Bear's house was Little Bear's bedroom but is now unrecognizable.

Sounds like a pretty good plan huh? Laundry is always a task for days off. It seems I never see the bottom of the hamper. The boys' dressers are overflowing but not with anything they can actually wear so that needs to be addressed. The kitchen floor has been in dire need of a scrubbing for sometime but with three little monkeys constantly swarming through that particular room it makes it next to impossible. Little Bear's room is something that is well overdue and is something I really have to have completed before he and Fuzzy return from their trip to Montreal with X on Tuesday night.

With all these items on the list to be completed as well as a page long grocery list you would think I would have been up bright and early this morning and headed right to work. That plan was shot to crap when Wee One slept until almost 9:30 this morning - something that NEVER happens and I didn't want to waste by jumping up out of my nice cozy bed to clean.

It is now 1:45 in the afternoon and so far today I have managed to have a shower (but not do my hair), get dressed (but yet to put on deodorant), and eat lunch (bacon, which I vowed I wasn't going to eat nearly as much of). I have also played several games of Bejeweled on Facebook (the damn makers of that application have revamped the game and therefore made it that much more appealing-and time wasting than it already was). The only other thing I have done today so far is stumble across a Facebook application called NetworkedBlogs on Facebook where I found several interesting blogs that I then wasted more time reading and commenting on.

At the rate I'm going I will be lucky to do one complete load of laundry, SWEEP the kitchen floor and push the mess that is spilling out of Little Bear's room back inside so I can close the door and forget about it for today.

Maybe tomorrow I will find the motivation I am lacking today....but I doubt it.

Freak Behind The Wheel

I don't like to admit to a lot of weaknesses. I know I have them I just like others to know I do. One of my biggest weaknesses is driving in cities.

I hate it. I turn into a freak. I get beyond nervous. Today I had to take Little Bear to an appointment in a city that I don't know all that well. I know where important places are like the mall and Wendy's are but I don't know how to get to the hospital or the place I was headed today.

I asked Papa Bear to drive but he didn't really want to take all three boys to the appointment. I wish he would have just granted my request and spared us both unleashing my inner freak.

It didn't help that I was told the wrong place first which was hard enough for me to find..even with Papa Bear on speaker phone to help navigate. The women behind the desk in the wrong place was not really very helpful in giving me directions either. She was just like "go to the lights at the corner whatever and whatever than make a left onto that street and go down and make a right onto another street and the place is on the corner of M street and M street". Oh, OK. Yeah still didn't have a clue where I was going.

I got back in the van and put Papa Bear back on speaker phone all the while starting to get quite wound up. There was construction everywhere because this is not difficult enough. I was breathing...well I think I was breathing...irregularly, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. My heart was pounding, my chest hurt, and my stomach was doing barrel rolls.

I was so glad that Little Bear was wearing a pair of headphones and watching a DVD in the far back seat so he didn't have a clue that he was a passenger on a crazy train.

I followed Papa Bear's directions until I got to the final intersection where the building was supposed to be on the corner. Two buildings in is NOT the corner. How can you say the building is on the corner when there is a variety store and a dry cleaner on the corner, next door to the building that everyone tells you is on the corner? It's not on the freaking corner! At least I finally got to my destination. Now I just needed to puke and everything would be good again.

What the heck is wrong with me? Why can't I just hope in the car and go? Whenever I have to go somewhere new I always Mapquest it ahead of time and plan out my route or if possible get someone else to drive me there so I have an idea of where I'm headed. I didn't do that today because I thought Papa Bear would give in and just drive me and that proved to be a mistake. I'm glad he made me do it on my own but it was still hell.

Some people are afraid of spiders or heights or things like that. I'm afraid of traffic. I've never been in an accident and I beetle around Stinkburg easily but in high traffic areas I am definitely a freak behind the wheel.

Creativity Constipation

I am suffering from some serious writer's block or 'creativity constipation' as I call it. I am finding it hard lately to put my adventures (and misadventures) into words to share and humor my readers. I'm less that pleased with my last few entries and apologize for their mediocracy.

It's not at all that I don't want to write because I LOVE to write. I love to hear other peoples reactions (both positive and negative) to what I write. I enjoy reading the comments and receiving the messages asking for the next post. I just seem to have lost my MOJO.

At first I thought I just needed some more excitement in my life. I realized quickly this was not the case. I just haven't been able to write down that excitement in a way that provides a giggle for others which really is the purpose of the blog. I think of catchy titles for my adventures and maybe a few anecdotes to share but not enough to fill an entry.

Maybe my "bigger" thinking is blocking my creative juices. I've been pondering a lot of things lately, like writing a book. A book I'm sure will take me fifteen years to write, that I will probably have to self publish and that only the Crazy Mamas and Papa Bear will buy (and probably half of them will read). I've been thinking a lot about putting some sort of stand up act together. Sometimes the things I'm trying to communicate with readers is something that is far more effective if told in person (complete with facial expressions and bad impressions).

Maybe it is other things that are over running my mind that is making it hard for me to come up with anything worthy of my readers time. I could write ten blog entries on the happenings at the Donut Shack but I am bound by in house policies and such. I could blog about my family ties that choke but then I just upset my father and risk being misinterpreted as some of the things my mother claims I am. I have some humorous takes on some hot topics but leave them written but unpublished to spare the feelings of some that are over sensitive.

Someone asked me the other day if I was going to continue writing to blog. I really want to and I am hoping my creative constipation can be cured with a dose of mental Pepto Bismol but for now I wait for things to flow easily again.

Scavenger Hunting From A-Z

The Crazy Mama Society held a scavenger hunt this past weekend. It was the third photo documented scavenger hunt we have held. We have so much fun during these events. There were four teams originally but unfortunately the fourth team was unable to hunt so there were just three. My team consisted of Chesty McBreasty, Sweet and Innocent (and her two week old, Mack) and myself.

Usually we have a list of about fifteen things to hunt for such as, pumping a stranger's gas or making a questionable purchase (I totally took that category last time with a cucumber and a tub of vasoline). This time some genius (OK, it was me) decided we should just hunt for the alphabet from A-Z. I don't know what I was thinking because this was the longest scavenger hunt EVER. Mind you we did have lunch and did a little shopping but it took our team almost three and a half hours to hunt.

A-Z is pretty broad. You would think this would make it easy but it seemed to be quite the opposite. You don't want to do the first thing that comes to mind because originality really matters and you don't want to get to complex because there just wasn't really that much time. For A we went with Chesty's bottom next to her husband's face for "a couple of A$$HOLES". B for "BADGIRLS with BANANAS" - we'll leave that one to the imagination. C for "CONDOMS" - actually turned out to be one of the most boring. D was for "DOGGY DO DO" - this required me to risk someone thinking they were funny and shoving my face into the pile of dog crap that I was pretending to lick". We used a "free head EXAM" sign for E. F was Sweet and Innocent giving the finger because, well that is so not her and it took us quite a few tries to get her to do it without a cute smile on her face. G was "GIRLY GHOSTS" which was Chesty and I with pink sheets over our heads, spooky. H was a very convincing "HICKEY" that Chesty painted onto Sweet and Innocent's neck with her Mary Kay. For I, I held boxes of Imodium diarrhea remedy while holding my stomach and "the backdoor". J was my attempt at "JUMPING rope" - It's been a while. Our K was weak and we settled for a picture in front of KFC. Lucky Charms and Lollipops for L. I'm not so proud that there is now a picture of me sitting on the toilet for "being PEEPED at while PEEING on the POTTY" for P. Q-tips in our nostrils, ears and mouth for Q. Our R was also weak and we used a big marble wheel in a park known as the Rotary Wheel. S was for "SOMBRERO" - according to Sweet and Innocent that is what Chinese people wear when they work in rice fields. Sorry Sweetie but you are thinking the wrong side of the world. Needless to say we have a picture of Sweet and Innocent doing an impression of a Chinese person wearing a Mexican sombrero. T was a picture of me wearing a pretty gross looking pair of fake teeth holding a tube of TOTAL TOOTHPASTE. For U I put on a pair of really ugly underwear from the dollarstore and sat under an umbrella. VIBRATOR for V. We made Chesty do this one because...frankly neither Sweet and Innocent or I would touch it. W was for "WORMS" that Chesty and I pretended to feed each other. X was the railroad crossing X which I'm sure half the town that passed Sweet and Innocent posing with X were wondering what the heck she was doing. Y was a YARD SALE which we even purchased from and finally Z was a picture consisting of a ZIPPER and a kielbasa.

For some of our pictures we blew the competition out of the water for others we fell short to things like "KIDNAPPED" for which one team tied up and duct taped the mouth of one of their members and threw her in a trunk or another team that "CHOKED (pretended of course) a CHICKEN". All in all it was a ton of fun and the 78 pictures are a riot to browse through and what better way to end a fun day like that? With good friends getting together for dinner and a birthday cake shaped like a tube of K-Y Jelly.

Babysitting Baby McBreasty

My good friend Chesty McBreasty found herself in a bit of a pickle yesterday. She had an interview for an opportunity at work, a very sick husband and a (almost) three year old that needed someplace to hang out for a while. Being the good friend that I am I said it was no problem for me to take him for a couple of hours so she could go to her interview. After all Easton is the same age as Fuzzy and they like to play together and I like little Easton because quite frankly he is hilarious. I have three boys anyways so this would be a piece of cake with Little Bear gone to school it would be the same difference.

Since I was going to have Easton through lunch, I was going to have to feed him. Normally it would be no big deal to feed an extra kid except that Easton is practically allergic to himself but mainly milk and any and all milk products, bi-products, and ingredients. Just about anything that looks like, sounds like, smells like, reminds you of, milk (did you know there is milk in bologna?) he can not have. My solution to this was to ask Chesty the only really important question, "What can he eat from the McDonalds menu?"

Fuzzy, Wee One and I picked Easton up from his school readiness program just before lunch and headed for the drive thru at "Rotten Ronny's" (aka McDonalds). When we got home I set the three boys up with their "nutritious" lunch. Only minutes after starting lunch Easton called me over "Steecy, I pee in your chair" he said in his oddly deep voice. Stupid, stupid me. I forgot that Easton is much farther along in the whole potty training thing then we are with Fuzzy and he wears underwear but needs to be reminded and I (the person who was supposed to do the reminding) dropped the ball on this one and now I had a little boy with urine dripping from the hem of his jeans. At least I have an unending supply of boys clothes at my disposal.

After my two boys devoured their lunch and Easton nibbled a couple of fries and drank his juice (which should have been a red flag since Easton is probably the heaviest three year old I have ever lifted out of a carseat and therefore is obviously a better eater) we got our shoes on to go outside to play on the climber in the backyard. "Steecy, dose fretch fries hert my tummy" Easton told me.
"Are you ok? Do you want to stay in?"
"No I play outside with Fuzzy".
No sooner did we get outside and everyone was busy with their trucks and tractors and Easton exclaimed, "Steecy, I hava go poop!"
I grabbed him in a football hold and rushed him like a player heading for the goal line to the house. The whole time with him grunting to hold it in.

I wiped his butt after what looked (and sounded) like an awfully loose bowel movement (always a strange thing to do with someone else's child) and we headed back outside. We just got back to the climber when Easton hollered again, "Steecy, I hava go poop again!"
With him under my arm I ran for the house again. This time we were just in time. This was not looking so good. He told me his tummy hurt and he wanted to stay in the house. Fuzzy was not exactly excited with the news that we were now going to watch a movie rather than play outside and refused to take his shoes off.

After a few more trips to the bathroom and a few "Imma gunna puke" false alarms I was more than relieved to get Chesty's text message saying she was on her way and would be there to pick up Easton soon. My response, "no problem. oh, by the way, Easton has the sh@#*".

Even with all the peeing and pooping and puking false alarms both boys talked about their time together all night. I think that next time they will have a blast minus the tummy troubles.

I'm happy to report that Easton was feeling fine but that evening and rather than introducing the flu to my entire household he most likely had a snack at his school readiness program that didn't agree with him. Thank god!

Kicking It Into Wedding Gear

Papa Bear and I's wedding is in one year (Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred sixty-five days) from Friday. It is high time I kick it into wedding gear and get this shindig organized and under control.

I have been dragging me feet a tiny bit. Definitely NOT because I don't totally want to marry Papa Bear but because having been through the whole wedding planning thing already once I know that it is a lot of hard work and as much fun as things like picking out dresses and stuff can be there are also the less fun things like narrowing down an overly large guest list for our "small" wedding.

My cure for my less than eager attitude was to go and put on one of those huge, overly sequined, white (or ivory, or egg shell, or diamond white, or some other form of white with a fancy name) beautiful wedding dresses to motivate me to get moving on things...the good, the bad and the ugly parts of wedding planning.

So this morning with Chesty McBreasty as my wingwoman I headed out on a mission to try on as many gowns as possible housed inside the closest boutique. After introducing Chesty to my maniacal driving habits we were on our way. Look out crinoline here we come.

We pulled into the parking lot and found ourselves in a near death experience...not near death for us but for the old lady that was very close to getting a beat down for nearly running into my beautiful Magic Pumpkin and marring it with the white paint from her buick and a very probable dent. Open your damn eyes lady, can't you see a huge orange van right in front of you?
Who knew pulling out of (NOT BACKING out of) a parking space was so difficult? Especially when there aren't ANY other cars near you except this giant orange van clearly in your view that isn't moving? Geez.

After we recovered from our (her) brush with death we headed into the shop (technically after we stood on the sidewalk for about 7 minutes waiting for the place to open). We passed through the men's side of the shop. We passed by all the black jackets and black jackets next to the black jackets and the rack of ties and stepped into "the other side". The side full of shades of white and little reflections of light gleaming from the gazillion beads that adorned the dozens of dresses resting on the racks.

The first set of dresses were selected and we were off to the races. The very first dress went quite well. I had fears that I would look square like I do in my regular clothes. Before I had children, when I was young and super thin I was square like a teenage boy and now that I have had three children and become addicted to Iced Cappuccinos with extra cream I still look like a square...well more like a squishy wider box...kind of like Spongebob Squarepants. Anyway, I did not look like a square or a squishy box in the dress. I looked thin and...non square. My boobs were forced up by the shape of the bust (and the fact that the dress was a size too small and EVERYTHING was either forced up or down. Overall not too bad....and on to the next one.

For the most part most of the dresses looked pretty damn good and I am now convinced that I MUST add a corset to my wardrobe because wow! Things just look a whole lot better bound up with three feet of reinforced ribbon. Chesty, who had come along to be "brutal honest" was not really at all brutal. In fact much to my surprise she actually had a lot of nice things to say about how I looked in the dresses so it must have been going as well as I thought. Though some of the dresses were pretty tight so the lack of oxygen to my brain may have caused me to miss any brutal comments while trying to stay conscience.

There were a few dresses that did not receive a thumbs up. There was the giant sweetheart neck lined one (*I apologize to any fashionistas that may have stumbled across my blog that I may not use or even know the proper terminology for certain things. Please don't stone me). I'm pretty sure I could have stuffed the chest of that dress with 10 pin bowling balls and it still wouldn't have looked full. There were a few others with side roushing and terribly gaudy appliques that didn't score well either. Then there was the cute, but about three or four sizes too small dress that was really hard to imagine with a nice fit when you were distracted by the exaggerated belly rolls, back fat and...a TAIL! Pretty sure that wasn't there before I put the dress on so I think I'm just going to pass on that one too.

By the end of the trip we had narrowed things down to a top five. A really nice dress with lace overlay and detachable underskirt (very cool. It was like two dresses in one), another one with lace overlay but with a corset back (that made me go from a size ten to a size six when tied up), one with a very pretty beaded bust and side roushing, a very basic but flattering gown that would require that the very annoying frill that tickles my ears be removed and the waist minimizing dress with the dropped waist, horizontal roushing and the extremely distracting appliques that would also need to be removed including the one on the rear of the dress nicely placed just south of my butt hole that looked as though it had been pooped (no I did not misspell popped) there.

Overall it was a very productive trip. I found five really super gowns, got a bit of an ego boost and got the much needed motivation to kick it into wedding gear. Now I just need to talk to Papa Bear about the budget to see if I need to narrow my five choices down farther. :)

Wabbit Hunting With Anonymous Base

Yesterday was a usual Saturday. Papa Bear and I took the three little monkeys to a friends house for supper and to hang out. After the boys were back home and in their beds I left for Chesty McBreasty's house to be the third member of a three woman rock band (Rockband for the Wii that is) with Chesty and "The Absent Minded Photographer"(AMP).

When I pulled up to Chesty's and dropped The Magic Pumpkin (caravan) in the same stupid sewer hole that I drive into almost every time I go there, next to my van sitting on the sidewalk twitching a bit and hopping in a circle was a little bunny. He let me walk very close to him and didn't even bolt when the van beeped when I locked it. If it weren't for the odd twitching I would have thought the little guy was kind of cute but the twitching just made him creepy so I picked up my pace up to and into Chesty's house to begin our jam session.

We call ourselves "Anonymous Base". Anonymous because AMP can't (mis)pronounce it without Chesty and I breaking out in a fit of laughter and BASE because if you spell it BASS as in treble or bass AMP pronounces it bass..like the fish. Chesty plays the drums because...well...because both AMP and I suck really, really bad. I switch with AMP between guitar and vocals. We are interchangeable because we suck equally as bad.

We were jamming out to some AC/DC tonight and having a good ole time daring the neighbours to make a noise complaint when a smoke break was required (not for me though. Smoking is bad). So after some confusion over who's shoes were who's since all three of us apparently took advantage of the fact that Walmart had some cute $4 flip flops this year and we all have the same pair, we stepped outside and there sat the twitchy bunny.

When Chesty approached him this time he took off and hopped in a big circle and then disappeared under my van. Chesty was concerned that the little guy would get run over by a car since he was hopping all over it. So, she decided she should catch it...with a laundry basket.

I don't know that I can actually paint an accurate picture of Chesty wabbit hunting. It was quite a site to see. First she chased him around in circles in the front yard for a while. Then after retrieving the basket she tried to sneak up on him just narrowly missing him as he proceeded to hop down the street. I have never seen Chesty jump around like that. She did all this wearing a white "wife beater" style tank top (remember we don't call her Chesty for nothing), a pair of leopard printed pajama pants and her $4 flip flops. When asked by AMP what she was going to do with the wascally wabbit when he was capturedvshe replied "well, I hadn't really thought that far ahead". Probably something she should think about before you try to trap a wild rabbit under a laundry basket in your front yard. Just a thought.

I can't think of any better way to spend a Saturday night than Wabbit Hunting with Anonymous Base and laughing so hard I almost wet myself. It was probably a whole lot funnier to us. I guess you had to be there.

Home Sweet Freaking Home

Good Lord it is good to be home. I am in dire need of a vacation to recover from our vacation. We continued on with our family "fun" at Storybook Gardens this morning. More walking on my already sore feet and my burning calves. More sun and heat. More screaming from my kids plus about a million others like they were in stereo.

The kids had fun but were starting to show signs of family fun overload and were forgetting how to behave, how to listen and how to not completely drive me up the wall. Don't get me wrong, I love my children but there is definitely such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Before our vacation I was itching to get the heck out of dodge and as far away from our house as possible. Now, after 3 nights in single room accommodations with three kids, sleeping on rock hard mattresses with an occasional bed wetter, dealing with either a freezing cold room or a sweaty hot room, eating nothing but take out, and walking for hours on end this little house is heaven on a cloud.

I have never been so happy to see my overgrown weed beds or the pile of shoes that Wee One pulled out before we left that greeted us just inside the door. I missed my house. I missed my big fluffy soft bed (that I only have to share with Papa Bear) with my big, non itchy blankets on it. I missed my central air that has never let me down. I missed my own shower and my own shampoo. I missed...home.

I'm sure this feeling will end soon enough. Probably while I'm doing the hundreds of loads of laundry tomorrow or when I'm trying to wash my kitchen floor around three kids or while I'm cooking dinner (one of my least favourite chores). For now I will enjoy this feeling and try to remember it the next time I think it's time for a vacation. It's good to be home again. Home sweet freaking home.

Everyone Loves Marineland

Everyone Loves Marineland...unless of course they are on a budget. Yesterday Papa Bear and I took our three little monkeys to Marineland. It was our first visit as a family to any kind of theme or amusement park. We arrived shortly after 10. We slathered everyone up with sunscreen and headed for the entrance.

Little Bear was eager to start riding rides and the big roller coaster and the Sky Screamer (I'll get to this later). If you have a six year old or have ever been a six year old you know what I mean by eager. I mean he was being a freak. We decided to start out on the family rides to get rid of some of his pent up excitement and to warm up before we ventured on the big rides. I asked Fuzzy if he wanted to go on the first ride..."Uh uh" he replied while he stared wide eyed at the ride whirling around in front of him. OK then, Little Bear and I were on our own. The first ride sent Little Bear and I 60 feet up into the air, twirled us around in a gentle kind of way and brought us back down. If this was going to be the excitement for the day it was going to be a long day.

Fuzzy decided that he would indeed like to ride the next ride which was a miniature ladybug roller coaster. He looked pretty worried as he watched the ride go by with other riders a couple of times but didn't change his mind. When the ride took off I couldn't help but laugh at the terrified expression on his face that gradually changed to excitement and pure joy as the ride continued. We went on this ride a few times.

Next we went into the underground aquarium to see the Belugas and Killer Whale. All three boys were in complete awe watching the giant fish (or frishies as Fuzzy calls them) swim around. After the whales we checked out the bears which where equally enjoyed and then it was time to give in to Little Bears request for the big roller coaster, Dragon Mountain. This was kind of sentimental in that this was going to be Little Bear's first real roller coaster ride and Dragon Mountain was also my first real roller coaster years ago. Made me feel kind of old too. All the way up the path to the mouth of the mountain I kept asking him if he was sure he wanted to do this. He assured me he did so in we went. There was only one set of riders ahead of us so we didn't have long to wait..or change our minds. Just as the ride began Little Bear says to me, "Mom? What if I throw up?".

Having survived and throughly enjoyed the whole Dragon Mountain experience (without puke) we had worked up an appetite and it was time to stop for lunch. I am still in shock that five slices of crappy flat pepperoni pizza, two watered down sodas, two bottles of "juice" and a bottle of water cost me just under $40! Holy Crap! For that price you would think that it should at least taste better than the paper plate it was served on.

From lunch we went to one of the dolphin/sea lion shows. Fuzzy really enjoyed that and I caught Little Bear digging it a couple of times too. Fuzzy just seemed to have problems staying on the seat and fell and added to the collection of bruises already covering his knees. After the show we went on a few more "little kid" rides to amuse Fuzzy and then headed to the ride Little Bear had been talking about all week...

Sky Screamer is a free fall tower type ride that sits on top of a large hill which you must climb in order to ride. Since there was a restaurant also at the top of the hill, Papa Bear decided to climb the hill with us and take Fuzzy and Wee One for ice cream since they were growing quite tired of being spectators. I told Little Bear that this ride had better be worth the climb since it was quite a climb. He was pumped and so excited to ride this thing even though I was not so sure myself. Up, up, up we climbed until my calves started to burn and we finally reached the top. We got in line and Little Bear started to hiccup. "I hiccup when I get nervous" he informed me.
"Are you sure you want to ride?"
"Yes"
After 5 minutes of waiting in line he said "I don't think I wanna go on it"
"Are you sure? You don't have to"
"Yeah, OK I'm going to ride it"
Now we were next in line.."Mom, I'm too scared. I want ice cream instead"
Good Lord child I did not just climb this damn hill for nothing. If he wasn't going to ride it I was riding it without him.

I got on the ride beside two young girls. The one little girl turned to me and asked "have you ever rode this before?"
"No"
"It's really cool. I rode it five times today. I cried the first time"
OK, so now I have to be tough because there is a preteen beside me that has rode this scary monster of a ride five times. Then the beast began to breathe and bounced us up and down a little taunting us about what was coming next. What came next was being shot 320 feet into the freaking air at lightning speed. I'm pretty sure I peed a little. Then it left us hanging up there to see everything. I could see the falls and the whales swimming in their pools and the rest of the park and MY HOTEL! It just leaves you up there admiring the view so that you forget what comes next...I deathly drop back towards the earth. HOLY CRAP!....It was freaking awesome!

Afterwards Little Bear told me he didn't want me to go on the ride by myself because he was pretty sure it was going to shoot me to the moon. Not quite to the moon son but I think I came close and touched a cloud.

Now that Sky Screamer had been conquered even if just by me it was time to trek back down the hill and check out some deer. My kids are afraid of deer. You know because deer are suck scary dangerous animals and all. I did get some pictures of Little Bear looking rather terrified while petting a deer and Fuzzy was cool as long as the deer didn't move..at all. He also thought their poop was fascinating.

After the deer it was time to head for the exit. After a fight with Fuzzy about wanting to buy three stuffed whales instead of the one I was willing to buy we said goodbye to Marineland. With three completely tired out boys we loaded ourselves into the Magic Pumpkin and back to the hotel. Goodbye King Waldorf and all your fishy friends. Enjoy our money you damn thieves.

Bear Family Vacation

Today is day one of our family vacation. This is our first family vacation since Papa Bear and I have been together and both Fuzzy and Wee One's first vacation ever. Little Bear has been on a few family vacations with X and I but just to a relatives cottage and he is WAY out of practice. I have never taken three kids overnight anywhere but I willing to try just about anything once. Lord help me.

We started our trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario on a positive note and managed by the grace of god to actually get on the road at 10 o'clock sharp as planned. This NEVER happens. We are chronically late for everything. This is in no way thanks to Papa Bear who was in his usual slow mode. I wasn't in any hurry to get out of bed this morning either but once I was up it was full steam ahead. I even lugged the suitcases (I'm not sure how we managed to have so much luggage for only a 3 night stay but but we do) and packed the Magic Pumpkin (my orange Grand Caravan) myself.

Even though Papa Bear knows his way to and around Niagara Falls pretty well he decided to let "Mrs. Garmin" (GPS that is) lead the way and discovered a tiny little shortcut to cut some time off his next trip. We had to unplug the satellite radio in order to plug in "Mrs. Garmin" so for the rest of the trip we had to listen to a lot of easy rock stations or stations that only came in for a couple of kilometers before static took over. Not that anyone else in the van could hear the static since I am such a nice person that I sing along with the radio so that they don't lose any of the words in the static.

We were about an hour into our three and a half hour drive when we heard Little Bear's first "Are we there yet?" followed by "We SHOULD be there by now" and then "Papa Bear you drive too slow" as we were passed by a flying VW Beetle with a personalized license plate reading "TURBOBUG". I don't think that was too bad considering I thought it would start by the time we hit the highway.
At this point Wee One was peacefully sleeping and Fuzzy was close.

Shortly before we reached our destination I realized I had forgot to pack either my baby carrier or our second stroller since there is no way that Fuzzy would be able to do that much walking. A trip to Walmart was in order...if we could find Walmart. Mrs. Garmin was not of much help and sent us on some sort of loopdee loop business that never did bring us any closer to a Walmart. After several "turn right and then right"s we did find a Zellers and I purchased a sad excuse for a stroller that I fully intend to sell on Facebook when I get home.

Next we checked into our home for the next couple of days. The only rooms they had available for us when we booked was a very basic room with two DOUBLE beds. I have not slept in a bed smaller than a Queen in about 10 years. Let alone share it with someone else but I'm up for the challenge. Papa Bear flipped on the TV while we decided what to do first. Apparently he turned it onto a French channel because the next words out of Little Bear's mouth where "Papa Bear do you speak English?? This show IS NOT English, it's Omish or something".
Oh my.

Wee One was in desperate need of a nap by this time so I left him and Papa Bear to their "Omish" shows and crap Internet connection and took the two oldest boys to ride the Sky Wheel. It is like a giant Ferris wheel but with enclosed gondolas with air conditioning and elevator music. It takes you really high in the air so that you can see all of Clifton Hill and the falls. Fuzzy was in awe and a little bit braver than Little Bear but they both loved it and it was fun to do something with my two biggest boys since Wee One usually hogs my attention.

We returned to the hotel to find that Wee One did not have a nap but it was time to get some dinner. We went and got a pizza from Boston Pizza and Papa Bear decided to get salad...usually this would be great except that we are living in a hotel room and we don't have any dishes or cutlery so we needed to hunt some up. This hunt took us on a trek up and down the strip in search of a variety store to get some paper plates and plastic forks. We finally completed our mission and returned to our hotel room to fill our bellies.

Next was the part we were dreading in this tiny little room that had the potential to become our cell...bedtime. I figured the best way to tackle bedtime was to try to follow the same routine as we normally do at home and to split the kids so that I share a bed with Little Bear (and I PRAY that he doesn't have an accident tonight) and Papa Bear share with Fuzzy. We brought Wee One's mutilated playpen (another story for another day) for him to sleep in. Over all not nearly as bad as I had expected and all three were asleep by 9:15. Whoo hoo!

On the agenda for tomorrow: The Bear Family attempts Marineland. Wish us luck.

Freaky Mamas

Last night the Crazy Mamas attended a Fantasia party. For anyone that might be living without electricity or still driving a horse and buggy, Fantasia is company that does home parties to sell products such as massage creams and lubricants, adult toys, lingerie and other interesting R rated things.

The "Germaphob" hosted....who would have thought? Nine mamas in total attended the event including a VERY pregnant "Sweet and Innocent" who is about to pop any day now. The lady that would serve as our consultant for the evening was more than eager to begin her presentation and jumped right into her spiel as soon as we arrived. She talked super fast and I think she said something about something while she held up several different frilly crotchless panties and lacy pieces of lingerie and a few costumes. Mostly I just saw a flurry of lace and spandex as she whipped them out and put them away.

Next was the boring crap. "Try this", rub it, sniff it, lick it (great words of wisdom for so many situations) for a collection of different creams and lotions. A couple of smelly candles and some powder, whoopee...

Then came out the scary stuff. Disco lighted, rotating, bright coloured...umm...toys with either faces or animals on them. Yeah that's right, apparently you can't buy too many adult toys that don't stare at you, because that's really hot. Nothing says orgasm like a bunny rabbit or a kangaroo or a creepy looking "goddess" who looks like Aunt Jemimah's mother. Some of the Mamas were horrified by the kinds of machines that were being displayed while others were mesmerized by their flashing lights and buzzing sounds.

For all the stand offish looks and scared expressions you wouldn't have thought that they would have purchased nearly as many of the items being featured as they did but our host was granted a significant amount in free goodies due to the high volume of sales. One of the Mamas even given a list of....toys to buy for her sister. Better your sister than your mother I guess. Another Mama was told by her husband to purchase "Benoit Beads", she has no idea what they are or what exactly they are for but she aims to please her man. Looks like most of the Mamas aren't nearly as prudish as they pretended to be. It seems to me there are more freaks in the group than you would think at first glance.

Another Milestone

There have been 3000 hits on this blog since June 8th, 2009. Thank you to all my readers. :)

*Don't foget to vote for Random Blogness on the Canadian Blogosphere site. There is a link button wwwwwaaaayyyyy down at the bottom of this page beside the statcounter. I'm currently sitting at #14 of 68 in Canada.*

Ask And You Shall Receive

People always ask me for advice. Some of these advice seekers are friends and some are just random strangers that I have crossed paths with at some point. Either way I am not qualified to give out many types of advice.

Today I was serving two gentleman at the counter at the Donut Shack when Guy #1 confided in Guy #2 that he had a wedgie and was having trouble keeping his underwear out of his butt. After a few more exchanges between the two, Guy #2 turned to me and said "Do you have any tips?".
I asked "For what? Preventing wedgies?"
"Yeah"
My answer: "ummm...duct tape? Serves two purposes, butt waxing and wedgie prevention or he could just switch to thongs, they're supposed to be stuck up there anyways".
Hey, he asked my thoughts...do I look like a specialist in Undergarment Support?

I have been asked for relationship advice quite a bit. I have been engaged, married, divorced, engaged (to Papa Bear) and I'm not even 30. I'm pretty sure I am not the one to ask for this kind of advice. I'm going to go out on a limb and claim I am CLEARLY not an expert in relationships. I will still give advice but really I'm just learning from my mistakes and pulling the rest out of...well you know where.

A few times I have been asked for advice on what someone should do about their career. Seriously people you are asking a Coffee Goddess (aka deliverer of donuts) for career advice? If I am still working at the Shack after 11 years I obviously still don't know what I want to be when I grow up and you should probably look for someone WITH a career to ask.

Now don't get me wrong, I love that people ask me for advice but I'm warning you that if you ask be prepared to receive either an unqualified answer or something straight out of the B.S. Book. There you have been warned. I'm sure even though I have handed out such a warning someone will still ask me for advice on something tomorrow that I will make up an answer to.

Oh Boy(s)

Oh boy, I am raising three boys. This has presented a few challenges. The biggest problem with bringing up three little men is that, well, I'm a girl!

I have no experience being a boy. I don't understand how they think. I grew up with only brothers but that doesn't even really seem to be helpful.

Boys are gross. They just are. Fuzzy regularly brings his boogers to me on his finger and wants me to take care of it. EWWW, Fuzzy boogers are gross, put it in a kleenex and throw it in the trash. We do not need a show and tell. Fuzzy is also my bug collector and has even tasted a few. Little Bear insists on eating his lunch in three bites or less. I have never seen a little girl chow down like a little boy. Breathe boy, breathe. Wee One is still in the early stages of grossness and it is not as obvious as it is with his brothers.

Boys are weird. Yesterday I was changing Fuzzy's diaper and he had himself a little baby ummm..."tall friend" and was asking about it when Little Bear walked by and informed me that his penis does that sometimes too - when it gets tired of just hanging down all the time and if he plays with it a little bit it does that.....ummm...OK.

Boys are crazy. I have seen plenty of little girls with lots of energy but I'm sorry little ladies you can not compare to the non stop rhythm of a young boy. All day long they go, go, go. I'm down to only one that actually has a nap in the day so there isn't much down time around here. I am completely exhausted with chasing them all day long.

Boys play different than girls too. I have never turned my sandwich crust into any kind of vehicle and drove it around the table making motor noises. It amazes me at how many different items I have seen turned in to cars, trucks, tractors, and airplanes. Geez, it's a sippy cup kid, not a city bus.

Having all boys has some advantages. It is easier to pick out my pink and purple clothes out of the basket of folded laundry. Nobody will be borrowing my clothes or shoes as they get older (well, I guess this isn't really a guarantee but less likely than if I had daughters). We use less toilet paper (no need to wipe when you can shake). Nobody in my household will ever come home and tell me they are pregnant. I don't have to worry about vacuuming up Barbie shoes. There are no crying, peeing, pooping dolls kicking around (just actual kids that do those things).

Raising boys has posed it's share of challenges but it has certainly been entertaining so far as I'm sure it will continue to be. Lord give me the strength to endure. I'm raising three boys, oh boy.