Nosey Rosy

 

     Everyone has or at least should have that one friend that will tell you when you have a stain on your shirt in that area under your boobs that you can't see, that those skinny jeans you thought made your butt look so great gives you camel toe in the front, that you need to pluck those 2 random chin hairs.....AND when you have a rogue nose hair permanently sticking out of your left nostril.  -Don't you all be sitting there going "eww gross chin and nostril hair" you know you have had a stray or 2 of your own and the further past 30 you get the more appear.  You aren't fooling anyone pretending you haven't.

     Chesty McBreasty is that friend for me.  Unfortunately life has been pretty busy for both of us lately and we haven't spent nearly enough time together lately -much to the relief of Papa Bear and Manuel the Mexican Gardener (whom is neither Mexican nor a gardener).  Thankfully the youth soccer association of Stinkburg has allowed us to reunite for an hour and a half (would be 2 hours but Chesty time runs about half hour behind) weekly by putting 2 of our kids on the same team (her to play the game and mine to pretend).

    I think it only took about 5 minutes of Chesty sitting next to me in our traditional Soccer Mom issue folding camp chairs for her to turn to me and make me aware of a Nosey Rosy the Rogue Nose Hair's presence.  While I pulled at it and rubbed at it trying to brush it away and then tried to shove it back inside the nostril, Chesty made the conclusion that Rosy was indeed attached and not going anywhere.  She was later removed with a pair of tweezers in front of my bathroom mirror while Wee One looked on asking a million questions about what I was doing.

     So, with that taken care of I just have to ask those that see me on a regular basis, "WTF?  I'm so sure you have been letting me walk around with hair sticking out of my nose for who knows how long!"  That sucker was long so I know ol' Nosey Rosy has been with me for a while.  I'm not entirely sure how I missed her myself other than the fact I don't do a lot of time in front of the mirror with my glasses on which I suppose I should start to do but these people see my face a million times more than I do.  Are they having a conversation with me and staring at Rosy hanging there waving at them?  Did they assume the first time they noticed her that she wasn't attached and then the next time they saw me that I had another unattached hair hanging from the same nostril and then again?

    I suppose some would claim they are too polite to say anything.  I think it is more polite to let someone know about something like that than let them go through their day to day business with an unknown friend saying hello to everyone they talk to face to face in a day!  I'm not asking you to broadcast the issue or point and shout or anything like that but "Hey Stace, you've got something a little freaky going on there" next time would be good.  I would do it for you -you know I would.  Thanks in advance folks.

Anxiety of a New Level

   

     Normally I blog about things as they happen but for some reason I didn't share this story when it happened.  I have retold the story a few times now and realize I should have just blogged it in the first place.

     It wasn't until 4 weeks and 1 day before my expected due date that I finally got an appointment with the doctor that is supposed to deliver this baby.    She is the same doctor that delivered my last 2 boys and typically I would have seen her a few times by that point.  Since it was a little later than usual and I hadn't seen my family doctor in over a month there were a few (unpleasant) things that needed to be done.  With that stuff done she goes through the rest of the appointment like normal and tells me to make an appointment for every Thursday until the week after my due date.  Then she springs on me that she is going on vacation for 2+ weeks and I will have to see her resident Dr. Boy for my next 2 appointments....  I know I've been through this whole birth thing 3 times already but no pregnant women likes surprises -especially at this point in a pregnancy.  Her vacation not only means that I will not be seeing her for 2 appointments but it also means she will not be delivering my baby if I go into labour in the next couple of weeks which is quite possible.  Let the anxiety soar!

     I left the appointment feeling anxious and a bit stressed.  Between the hour plus wait sitting in pregnancy unfriendly chairs, the news that my doctor very well could be away when I went into labour and that I was going to have my next to visits with Dr. Boy instead......Wait a minute....I didn't meet Dr.  Boy.  No face visual, no introduction, no handshake, nothing and I'm expected to let this dude all up in my business next week?  Welcome to another level of anxiety!

     When the appointment with Dr. Boy (He gets the alias of Dr. Boy as he looks to be almost old enough to grow a beard.  Until you can grow a beard you are a boy) finally came I was a bit relieved.  Dr.  Boy was really nice and not "hot" -there is nothing worse than a really great looking doctor when you are there for appointments below the waist.  The blushing and stuttering just seems to make the whole experience that much worse.  He was very professional and the appointment didn't seem so unlike that of my usual doctor.

     He measured my bump and felt around to see the position of the baby.  Then he got out his stethoscope to listen for the baby's heartbeat.  He set the scope and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope and listened, gave the baby a little poke and listened, poked the baby again and listened, gave the baby a little shove and listened, another shove and listened, yet another shove and listened.  This went on for what seemed like forever....  Through all this poking and shoving going on, my usually extremely active baby didn't budge a smidgen... At least if the baby were wiggling around I would just know it was Dr. Boy's issue and not a problem.  I could feel my own heart rate pick up, my cheeks start to get hot.  I could feel myself start to sweat and basically about to $hit a brick.  Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and I looked at him and said "Dude, you are freaking me out!"
He looked back and said "ummm I'm going to go get the doppler".
"I think that would be a really good idea." -You think?!
...and I reached a new level of anxiety I didn't even know existed.

     When he returned with the doppler and started probing around again things were not much better and it still took him forever to find the heartbeat but he did eventually find it.  Apparently the baby was laying in a weird position that was making it hard to get to an area where the heartbeat is easy to get....and apparently having one hell of a good sleep to have remained so still through the poking and pushing he was getting.

     I think Dr. Boy and baby Cuatro were in on a practical joke together.  Dr. Boy said "I'll pretend like I have no idea what the heck I'm doing, you just lay there and don't move a muscle and we'll see how long it takes before she completely loses her $hit.  It will be hilarious."  Yeah, really effing hilarious...

Times a Tickin'

   

When Papa Bear talked me into trying for Baby #4 (I wanted to make a cheesecake, he wanted to make a baby) we made a deal.  The deal was that Papa Bear would complete the not yet started renovation on our back room and make it into an office/bear cave to free up the room that was currently our office to use for the baby.  It was agreed that this renovation would be complete by Little Bear's birthday which was at the beginning of March.

     Papa Bear is the definition of procrastination.  It is now the middle of May and less than 3 weeks from Baby #4's due date.... We do not have a complete office and we do not have a complete (or even started) nursery.  You can imagine how incredibly happy this makes me.   It's not like I can renege on my half of the agreement.  We are currently waiting on carpet that I ordered yesterday for the back room.  The crib and dresser and other assorted baby items are scattered throughout my living room in the meantime.  This also makes me very unhappy.  We women do this thing called "nesting" in the final weeks of pregnancy where we go completely crazy cleaning and reorganizing our homes in preparation for the little one on the way.  The state of chaos that is my home at this moment is really standing in the way of my nesting and trust me, this house is in need of some serious nesting.

    To make matters worse, instead of helping me to empty the nursery of our office contents, Papa Bear woke up and decided that he would lay the tile in our mud room that I purchased 4 or so years ago.  Not only does this choice tie up Papa Bear from helping me but it means my washer and dryer are unhooked and moved into another room making them useless until the tile job is complete.  Papa Bear has been at it for almost 4 hours and has less than a quarter of the tiles laid.  Taking into consideration his pace and the amount of work still required to finish I should have my washer and dryer back in commission by.....I don't know....July!

    Times a tickin' and I'm pretty sure you are not supposed to put road blocks like this in front of a nesting mother.  I'm pretty sure bad things will happen -like a new swear word is invented or she just goes bad $hit crazy which is where I think I'm headed.  I don't know how much more I can take and I just know that this little peanut is in my uterus going "I am totally coming before my due date just to screw with her".   No name, no nursery and a mother that is only inches from the nut house -not a great way to start out.  I would just stay put if I were you little mister.

Game Time

   Who doesn't love a good ol' game of Where the Eff is That Noise Coming From at 2am?  Me, that's who.  Especially since I haven't been able to get more than a few hours of sleep a night in months.  However, there I was, laying wide awake in bed questioning my sanity as I was sure I was hearing a high pitched chirping noise piercing the quiet in about 1 minute intervals.

   I was laying there thinking, "I am hearing that right? It's not the wind blowing something outside or something dumb like that right?"  

I look beside me and Papa Bear hasn't flinched.  Not surprising since he has made it clear over and over again that he is half deaf and doesn't listen.  This fact is made evident by times when Little Bear asks a question like, "did you get dog food?" 

and Papa Bear responds with something like, "Adopted?!"

Anyway, after deciding I was indeed hearing it and that it sounded like the familiar sound of a smoke detector with a dying battery I poked the bear and told him to find the source since he was supposed to have just checked and changed batteries in all the detectors at Daylight Savings time.

   So Papa Bear proceeds to stumble around the house like a drunken teenager on prom night and standing under each smoke detector (since the we built the addition to our house we have quite a few, like 5 or 6 I think) and listening for the chirp.  He came back to bed and declares the sound is coming from our room and I'm going to have to find it.  How the hell could it be coming from our room?  We don't have a smoke detector in our room or anything else that should be making a similar sound.  Up I get and morph into Sherlock Holmes mode and do the Walk 3 Steps, Listen shuffle.

     After a few minutes I had the sound isolated to our en-suite bathroom.  "It's coming from in here!  I whisper yell to Papa who drunk stumbles into the bathroom with me and we stand and listen....  I can hear it.  I just can't find the source.  Like  a crazy person I start digging through the vanity and dropping my 4 weeks from delivery pregnant body to the floor to peer underneath it to see if I can find what is keeping me awake at this hour.  Still can't find it.

     Finally I start on the vanity drawers.  Now, in my drawer on my side of the vanity you will find things like my hair brush, hair ties, facial wipes, my makeup bag a few pieces of assorted jewellery -you know the sort of thing that SHOULD be in the bathroom.  On Papa Bear's side, if you open his drawer you will find his electric razor, earphones, pens, pencils, a pack of gum, an old cell phone, sink and tap manuals, an old grocery list, a handful of change, a few random pieces of hardware and shoved to the very back....1 old smoke detector with a blinking light and chirping in 1 minute intervals....that was all but whipped at him by a very sleep deprived, very fat and bloated, very bitchy pregnant lady at 2:35 in the mutha loving morning.

     "Now tell these folks what they've won for playing our game tonight Jim!"

"Well Bob, they've just won.....a very rough Friiiiiiiiiiiday with no possibility of a nap!"
.....Awesome.....

25,000 Hits Baby!

I Scream For Ice Cream

I'm not sure if Papa Bear has a death wish or just pure evil.  I've never thought of him as evil so death wish is most likely.
   
    Tonight he had a meeting to attend and left me to do showers and bedtime with 4 boys (my nephew is staying with me this week as well) by myself.  No big deal.  Bedtime is a fairly well oiled machine around here even with the extra boy.  Routine is the key to sanity.

     Now here is where Papa Bear went wrong.  He asked me before he left if I wanted anything while he was in town.  I told him I would love some ice cream and since he claims the local ice cream shop closes early through the week I said a sundae from McDonalds would do I just really wanted some ice cream.  He said he would bring home the ice cream.  He also claimed the meeting would only take an hour to an hour and a half.  I knew better than that but it didn't matter if there was ice cream to look forward to.

     For the rest of the evening I thought about the ice cream Papa Bear was going to bring me.  My mouth is still watering thinking about it as I type.  I was going to have a different snack but didn't want to spoil my appetite for when my ice cream showed up.  I made the boys' lunches for school and thought about ice cream.  I tidied up the kitchen and thought of ice cream.  I tucked the boys in and thought of ice cream.  I folded laundry and thought about ice cream.  I watched The Voice and thought about ice cream.

     When I heard the back door open (3 hours later) all I could think was "Here comes my ice cream.  Oh how I love ice cream.  I can't wait to dig into that deliciously cold ice cream".  As Papa Bear walked into the room I scanned his hands for my ice cream.  No ice cream.  "Where's my ice cream?"
"McDonalds closed early due to some sort of electrical issue"
"Ummm so...where's my ice cream?"

    MOTHER LOVER!  You can not promise a very pregnant women ice cream and not follow through!  You promise ice cream you damn well better follow through.  You do not promise ice cream and come home empty handed.  You find some freaking ice cream somewhere and you bring it home to your very hormonal and ice cream craving women carrying your child!  If this means you scour the ice chest of every variety store in town, you do it!  If this means you drive to the next town to get it you go get it.  If this means you have to make it yourself, you do it but you DO NOT under any circumstances come home without some sort of ice cream!

     I will likely think about the ice cream that wasn't all night and if I actually sleep tonight I will dream about ice cream but I will not be eating any ice cream tonight.  No there will be no ice cream for me.  Papa Bear will be lucky if I forgive him for this by the time this baby I am carrying turns 18.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

While laying with Wee One in bed this morning he sings:
"M, M, I love M because my mom starts with M".
I think Awwww and then:
"P, P, I love P because Pee and Poop start with P"...oh, there's the Wee One I know...

I Need Sleep Peeps!

     I think the worst part of pregnancy is not being able to sleep during a time when sleep is very much needed.  Sorry, but I require a little more than 2.5-3 hours of sleep tonight to raise 3 busy boys, work, carry around an extra 30 pounds and have a tiny little critter suck the life out of me on a daily basis.  Pregnancy insomnia is one of Mother Nature's personal jokes (she has a lot including giving us November weather for April this year).  Of course there is no sympathy for this either with other moms responding with "it's just preparation for when that new baby comes".  No it's not!  This is baby #4 for me and I am pretty sure all 3 of my other boys slept more than 3 hours a night and there is something to be said for having a cute, little, pink baby to snuggle and stare at during those wakeful hours as opposed to the ceiling fan or the alarm clock.

   As if the headaches, heart burn, back pain, baby movements, leg cramps, and trips to the bathroom weren't enough to prevent sleep, I also sleep next to the Great Grizzly who either wakes me or prevents me from sleeping in the first place with the horrible sounds that come out of him while he proceeds to suck in the ceiling all night.  A lot of people snore when they sleep on their back -Papa Bear does that.  Some people snore when they sleep on their sides -Papa Bear also does that.  Few people snore when they sleep on their stomachs -how the heck does Papa Bear manage that as well?!  I guess last night he got sick of being elbowed and poked and yelled at to stop snoring because he eventually moved to the couch.  Best 2 hours of sleep I had all night!

     When it isn't aches and pains of my pregnant body or Papa Bear's snoring preventing sleep it is temperature.  I think our furnace has a mind of it's own and completely ignores the number it is set to.  I swear the hotter it is the more often I hear that bugger fire up as if opening the gates of hell.  This has resulted in me sleeping with the window above our bed open all winter to regulate some sort of tolerable temperature.  Poor snoring Papa Bear usually has enough fur covering to keep him warm at night without any blankets at all is now wrapped up in a blanket taco, he says to ward off the chill in our room...I have no idea what he is talking about.

   To top off the entire sleepless night it never fails that a certain child (ahem Wee One) feels the need to disrupt the last 1/2 hour of sleep before the alarm.  Apparently he hasn't received the memo that this is the most important 1/2 hour of the whole night and is not to be interrupted.  "Dad.  Dad.  Daddy?  Dad!" He knows better than to call Mama unless it is important -important being, sick, scared or hurt.  Not important being I can't find 1 of the 102 stuffed animals populating my bed at all times that I am actually laying on top of...  Mama doesn't seem to be quite as sympathetic to these problems at 6:15 in the morning as Dad might be.

   It is all of this that makes me dread bedtime (resulting in later night games of Words With Friends and finishing off the box of Popsicles) and look forward to the rare opportunities that present themselves for a nap. I bet you don't hear a lot of women say "I really can't wait until I have a newborn so I can get some more much needed sleep".  I need sleep peeps!

Naming Baby Cuatro

 
   




     With baby #4 on his way in just 9.5(ish) weeks.  Papa Bear and I find ourselves still playing the name game.  We have known since about 21 weeks that this baby is going to be another boy which you would think would make things easier since we only have to concentrate on boys' name.  You would think but that is not at all the case.  We could agree on a girl's name before we even knew what the little peanut was going to be.  Boy names are a different story.

    I like more original names - not awkward sounding, made up names but more original than say, Peter.  I'm not a big fan of trendy names or anything rhyming with Aiden, Caiden, or Brayden.  Papa Bear likes his grandfather's name which I don't hate but it is common and very plain.  Beside the other 3 boys' names is just sounds like we ran out of imagination when naming #4.  I also know about 4 other  little ones with that name that will be in the same age range as my little man.  I was 1 of 4 Stacey's in my class for most of my elementary school years and went to school with several Jennifers, Jessicas, Jasons and Stevens.  So far none of my boys have a duplicate of their name in any of their classes.

   It may be because I have had to do it so many times, but picking boys names seems to be much harder.  I could think of a dozen girl names that I would name a daughter but I have already had to pick the perfect boy's name 3 times.  When picking a girl name you just have to make sure it doesn't rhyme with anything that could be used against her by other kids and doesn't mistake her for a boy (some people fail on 1 or both of these points).  When it comes to boy names you have to be careful to choose a name that suits a baby, doesn't get him beat up as a teenager and still suits a grown man.  I can't call a baby Lyle and have a hard time calling a grown man Sabastian (no offence to any Sabastians out there it just doesn't scream masculine to me).

   Papa Bear isn't big on the name I like best.  I'm not sure if it is too "out there" for him,  if he just doesn't like the way it rolls of the tongue or the fact that Fuzzy told us it is also the name of a character from Lego Ninjago (which I was not aware).  The reactions from the few people I have mentioned the name I like are split down the middle.  That doesn't help sell the name to Papa Bear and it doesn't make me overly confident in the name myself.

   The days are ticking by and this little prince is going to be here before we know it so we better get our acts together and pick a name.  We have one name that is a compromise of parts that we both want and both like at this point but that could change too.  When people ask if we have a name chosen I tell them we can't agree on a name and at this point we are just going to call him Cuatro (after all "Four" is too boring).  I'm still banking on Papa Bear caving when he seems me go through the pain of labour again and tells me I can call him whatever I want :).




*Feel free to leave any boy name suggestions in the comments.  Who knows maybe you will suggest something we haven't thought of.

Like Roses

      I am a creature of habit.  I like routines wherever possible.  I like to find the most efficient order to do things and then stick to that order and I like to use the same hygiene products that I know are tried and true.  I switch between the same 2 brands of shampoo.  I have used the same kind of soap  forever.  I use the same toothpaste and same deodorant I have used for at least the last 10 years.  I do not like any of this disrupted and I don't adjust well if it is.  A little OCD?  Yes, but it is the way I am.

   This being said, the other day I realized I was running drastically low on deodorant and stopped to pick some more up at our local Wal-mart.  When I approached the deodorant section I came to find that my particular deodorant choice completely out.  Now I'm sure there are plenty of people out there that can just select a different kind from the several choices offered but this chick is not one of them.  They had the same brand and kind I use but in two different scents than the one I like.  I buy the cucumber melon scented version and they only had the original "Clean scent" and "Wild Rose" versions.  I knew the products work and I knew there is no way I could wait to pick some up since I was likely to forget if I didn't do it now.  I also knew that no place else was open and these were my only options.  After eliminating the "Wild Rose" as a choice (I hate floral scents) I grabbed the "Original Clean" and made my way to the check out.

   Today was the first day I had to wear the "Original Clean"and let me tell you it is definitely not the smell I think of when I think clean. It was bad but I didn't have any other choice but to go with it at least for today.  How bad could it be anyway?  I don't typically smell my regular deodorant throughout the day, I just don't smell body odour and that works for me.  Of course all I could smell ALL day today was this "Original Clean" crap.  As I mentioned I HATE floral scents.  "Original Clean" smells exactly like I've had a rose bush in a head lock all day.  It is horrid.  It is all I can smell and it has given me a headache since I spread it's disgusting stench under my pits this morning.  I need a shower just to rid myself of it's stink.  It looks like the "Original Clean" is going to do find itself in the bottom of the bathroom trash because that stuff is gross.  I almost think I would rather go without any deodorant and risk smelling like an onion farmer....almost.

Catching Up - Again

      It's been about a year and a half since I touched this poor neglected blog. It's not that I haven't had anything to blog about. I just haven't been able to find time. Between the boys, working, baking and curling (yep, I'm Canadian AND cool like that), I can't seem to find time to sit down and type out the genius things that come to me at 2:30am when I'm fighting pregnancy insomnia or in the 10 minutes I get to try to shower and shave my entire body without company. I can manage to take all my turns on Words With Friends and to creep my friendemies on Facebook but not organize my thoughts into a blog post -anyone that has read the blog before can attest to my fabulous organization of thought *insert sarcasm here* (the title isn't RANDOM Blogness because it resembles any sort of organization). Placenta brain does not help the situation either. Things fall out of my head almost as fast as they pop into it these days. I guess I should do a little catch up.

      Since my last post (October 2011) not a ton has happened in the Bear Family. I quit selling purses and went back to work part time at one of North America's best known department stores. Of course there is a policy that prevents me from mentioning the name of that particular store but I will tell you it starts with a W and if you have ever shopped in your pajamas I can guarantee you've been there. I man the jewellery counter and spend my time there changing watch batteries, watch bands and cashing out groceries. It isn't really a job that challenges me but it puts some spendy money in my pocket and they are much better to their employees than the people I have worked for in the past.

      My boys are growing bigger and brighter everyday. Little Bear is now 10 -going on 30. He is turning into a little man complete with stinky armpits and pre-teenage attitude. I can really see him taking after me more and more all the time (except for the stinky armpits). He's quick as a whip and feels the need to have the last word in every argument. This seems to be the main road block when the two of us bump heads. Most of our arguments end in, "well I'm your Mother and I say that's how it's going to be" and him mumbling under his breathe hoping I don't hear him as he walks away. Fuzzy is 6.5 and finally starting to show off the intelligence I always knew he had but that he likes to keep a secret. He is quite a smarty pants but a little on the lazy side. While his teacher and I both knew what he is capable of doing he seems to have been just fine with just squeaking by. I can see this slowly changing and him wowing those that didn't have a clue. The Wee One is my stinker and never seems to be able to pass up an opportunity to find trouble. He has also become quite the comedian and regularly comes out with comments that I can't help but laugh at like "Mom, you're not just pretty. You're pretty useful too" or his insistence that we name his baby brother that is coming in June, Sensei. Which brings me to baby #4 who already seems to think he is funny by developing a penis and therefore making me the only female in a house with 5 males. I am destined to forever sit in pee on the toilet seat and be a defender against stink and stains all on my own. Of course there are a few perks of being the only queen in the castle. If there is something pink in the bottom of the clean laundry basket, there is a good chance it belongs to me which will save time when hunting for something to wear and after a while when the boys are all a bit bigger I will have the smallest under pants in the whole household.

      Incase you were wondering, no, we are not going to keep trying for a girl. Papa Bear and I are going to be done at 4 baby bears. Papa Bear will be getting the snip to prove it (haha). Sadly that pretty much wraps up what I think is blogworthy for the last year and a half. Again I will promise to try to find more time to blog but I'm a realist and know that I shouldn't make promises I can't keep, especially since I'm bound to forget by dinner.

Stacey Crocker

I like to bake. I hate to cook but I love to bake. My first real job was a baking job. From time to time I get into a mega baking mood and go a little crazy baking a whole mess of stuff all at once.

This weekend is the Canadian Thanksgiving and my Mother in Law asked me to bring a cheesecake for dessert for her Thanksgiving dinner. No problem at all. The only thing I like better than cheesecake is MY cheesecake. I don't like to brag...well yes, actually I do...my cheesecake it THE s-@*#! I figured while I was making a cheesecake for that dinner I might as well make one for when I go to my parents for dinner. I usually make a traditional fruit topped cheesecake to go to either house. Then I found an easy chocolate cheesecake recipe on Pinterest.com (my latest addiction). I'm not a big chocolate fan but lots of people are and I wanted to try out the recipe so I added that to my baking list. Then, while eating a pumpkin spice muffin from Tim Hortons I wondered if I could find a pumpkin cheesecake recipe that I had all the ingredients for. I found a recipe and then during my search I came across a recipe for pumpkin cookies and added both to my baking list. My parents really like peanut butter cookies so I added a small batch of them to the list as well.

I spent most of the night last night making cheesecakes and then got up this morning and baked cookies. My Nana would be so proud. Just call me Stacey Crocker! I'm not sure who is going to eat all this crap but they definitely have options. The pumpkin cookie recipe yielded over 100 cookies so I hope somebody besides me like them or I'm going to be another 25 pounds heavier. The pumpkin cheese cake filling it so scrumptious I could have eaten it 2 minutes after is was finished.

Now that all the baking is done I am trying to resist the urge to google more recipes as I really need to get moving with my day. I'm sure the rest of my day is going to be spent praying the boys don't find out there are 4 cheesecakes in the downstairs fridge and cookies locked in the pantry so I will actually have goodies to take to dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and cheers to eating enough turkey to have to move to the next notch in your belt!

A Chance to Make a New Friend!

It is amazing what a difference 1 number can make. For me this morning, it was the difference between qualifying to win $25,000 and making a new friend.

Every morning I wake up to the sound of our local radio station and this morning was no exception. This morning they were talking about a contest they were holding where you had to text your first and last name to a specific number in order to qualify for a chance to win $25,000 or a new car.

Sounded easy enough so I thought, what the heck, I'll enter. Apparently I mixed up a number when I sent my text.... Now I have Tom from Waterloo, who claims to be a Sales Engineer texting me. "Sales Engineer" huh? Fancy name for cashier at Walmart? Drug dealer? When asked what I do to make a living a million possibilities came to mind. Queen of Canada. Surgeon General of Stinkburg. After all Tom didn't know who that text came from. I could be just about anyone even a big hairy dude driving a truck. Stacey is a unisex name right? I was going to go with Domestic Goddess but settled with just telling him I raise 3 kids. I don't really MAKE a living as much as spend a living doing that but it is how I pass the time (I should probably add that I of course love every minute of it).

He asked who I was trying to reach. I told him about the radio station contest and how I had mixed up a number. He asked if I at least won? Ummmmmm, how could I win if I text..texted (what is the past tense of text?) him instead of the radio station? I would have expected a "Sales Engineer" to be a little quicker than that.

Then he told me "well you kinda did". I assume he meant because I had the great fortune to end up exchanging texts with the likes of him. I responded that I think Papa Bear would have probably rather I won a chance to win $25,000 than make a new friend.

Up until this point I thought he was hitting on me. That was until he asked "so what is your hubby thinking about having a date with another man? haha". I've known Papa Bear for a pretty long time and I don't think I ever recall him mentioning that he has ever considered dating a man. I'll be sure to ask him though and see if he wants my new friend, Tom the "Sales Engineer"'s number.

Wordless Wednesday...3 Little Monkeys Jumping

Time Again For a Little Catch Up

I have become a terrible blogger. My posts have become far and few between. I get emails in my inbox from time to time from random readers telling me to get my butt in gear and post more often. You would think from the lack of activity on the blog that my life must be so boring lately that I haven't had anything to blog about. That is not the case, although what I wouldn't give for some boredom from time to time. So here is a recap of what we've been up to around here:

My super fun home party business job was really slow after Christmas (and into the spring) so I decided to apply for a job with Statistics Canada and from late April until early August I was a government employee. While it wasn't the most glamourous job it was definitely interesting. I'm bound by an oath that prevents me from talking about much of the experience but I will just say this: Think about what you are wearing (or not wearing) when you answer your front door before you open that door.

It was somewhere in the late spring that I bought a new weight scale that hates me and I found that I had gained about 25lbs in the last year and was apparently oblivious. This new revelation brought a pop detox, a iced capp cut back and more attention to my portion sizes and listening to my brain when it says "WHOA, you've had enough. I know you like the taste of it but step away fat ass". I'm not sure that cutting back on my iced capp consumption right before school let out for summer was the best idea.

June brought the end of school and the beginning of the end for what was left of my sanity. For some insane reason I thought it would be a good idea to enrol the boys in daily swimming lessons in a different town at 10 o'clock in the morning for 2 weeks. The thought behind that was it would force us to get up, get dressed and get moving everyday. I forgot that I am not a morning person -not even a little bit.

Little Bear went to sleep away camp for the first time ever the second week in July. I was so nervous about this I couldn't drop him off and I couldn't sleep for the first couple days. It didn't help that X told me that Little Bear cried when he left him there. However, when I went to pick him up at the end of the week he was crying again but this time because he didn't want to leave. While Little Bear was away Papa Bear decided this would be a good time to (finally) tear out the old panelled walls and drywall in Fuzzy's room and Fuzzy could sleep in Little Bear's room. Half way through this project which ended up much bigger with the closet falling down and having to be rebuilt and the floor also being replaced, the wheat in the fields was ready to be harvested. I would just like to point out that I KNEW this was going to happen and the whole reason I choose the second week in July for Little Bear to go to camp was because that is the week week we are typically in wheat harvest. The result was the 2 boys bunking up for a little over a week to Little Bear's disdain. In the end Fuzzy's room turned out fantastic and well worth the wait.

At the end of July and into the beginning of August the Bear Family took our summer vacation again in Niagara Falls. We visited the Niagara Zoo and stayed at a hotel with it's own water park. The boys had a blast and while they will likely outgrow that particular hotel water park I think that I wouldn't mind staying at a similar place with a larger scale park. The boys were having so much fun that I almost didn't care that I had to squeeze my squishy (25lbs heavier) body into a bathing suit in front of strangers.

In August the boys did round 2 of daily swimming lessons since I obviously hadn't learned my lesson the first round and am a sucker for punishment. The fact that 2 out of the 3 boys passed their swimming levels validates driving with 1 eye still shut every morning. There likely would have been a third round of swimming lessons if I had been able to foresee that X was going to renege on his promise to the boys that they could come to his house for a full week. How I didn't see that coming I don't know.

Towards the end of August the boys really started to get sick of each other and resorted to non stop fighting that started as soon as 2 of them had their eyes open until the last 2 fell asleep at the end of the day. The result was an my increased dose of Extra Strength Advil and really focusing on the number of days left until school went back in.

The end of August also brought one of the biggest storms we have had since I have lived on the farm. I still swear a tornado touched down in our back yard. Papa Bear says it was a down burst of wind or some crap but that doesn't seem a big enough deal to completely take out our pear tree, throw our trampoline (which was anchored down with cement blocks) across our back field to rest in a mangled heap in the trees on the river bank, push a grain wagon hitch first across the field, take out the other half of the large tree that got struck by lightning a few years ago, break of a huge branch of another tree that would get tangled in and snap the hydro line that runs from the house to the drive shed, break off another branch that would hit and dent Papa Bear's truck, leave the boys' climber in need of repair and split a huge crack in probably they biggest and most mature of our trees so that it had to be cut down because of the danger it posed to splitting completely and falling. It was probably the scariest weather I have encountered.

At the beginning of September Little Bear went off to start Grade 3 and Fuzzy to S/K. As much as I was looking forward to them going back I must admit that once they were gone I missed them. Not enough to wish another 2 months of them being home but I do miss them when they are at school. September also brings the busiest season for work which I am so looking forward to. I love my job and the busier I am the longer I can put off having to look for a P/T job.

That about brings us up to date. Sorry this post is so extremely long but there was a lot of stuff to catch up on. I'm hoping to get my groove back and not leave my readers with such large gaps between posts. I'm also hoping to bring back the occasional "Wordless Wednesday". I miss blogging regularly and I miss reading comments from my readers.

Auto Corrected

Auto correct is usually a great tool on your cell phone to make typing quicker and easier...and also so you don't look like an idiot when you don't know how to spell. Occasionally though it works in the reverse and instead makes you look like a complete idiot when it changes to something completely different than what you were originally trying to communicate. There is an entire website dedicated to this misfortune, damnyouautocorrect.com . This particular site has caused me to laugh until I cried at the poor saps that have fallen victim to the auto correct curse.

Today I found myself victim to the curse. I'm just glad it was Chesty McBreasty on the receiving end and not someone else. There are so many more fantastic examples on the site but here is my flub:



...and yes, she is absolutely programmed into my contacts as "Chesty McBreasty". :)

Jump For Joy

I think every kid has a list in their head of the coolest toys they wish they could have. For me that list consisted of a Power Wheels, a tree house, a cool bike, Moon Shoes and a trampoline. My parents did eventually grant my wish for a cool bike which was so cool in all it's purply shininess that I rode it right into adulthood and never passed it down to either of my brothers like all of my previous bikes.

Now that I am a Mama I can live vicariously through my kids and so my boys have Power Wheels which have provided countless hours of enjoyment, a climber with a sort of tree house, very cool John Deere bikes and just recently, a trampoline. - Moon Shoes just don't seem as great now as they did then and I'm not completely sure they even make them anymore.

I have wanted a trampoline since I was about 5 and a traveling group called the Tramp Champs visited my public school and put on a performance of high flying acrobatics completed on a series of giant trampolines assembled in our gymnasium. Since then I have rarely passed up a chance to jump on a trampoline when the opportunity has presented itself. Now 20 years later (give or take a few years ;)) my boys are getting to the age where a trampoline is appropriate for me...I mean them. The other day I purchased a 12' trampoline with net enclosure (safety first!).

It wasn't they easiest thing to assemble but I persisted and made Papa Bear help me because I was just to excited and wanted to have it together by the time the boys got home from their visit with X. I couldn't wait to get on it and hurl myself into the air over and over again. My first bounce on the completed trampoline was just as I hoped it would be. That was until I realized that jumping on a trampoline after a certain (unmentionable) age and having 3 babies posses some problem. That problem being that your bladder doesn't really hold tight like it did before...and I may have peed a little.

Little Bear was in awe. "AAAWWEEESSOOMMEEE" was the first think out of his mouth. Wee One also loved the trampoline from his first bounce. Fuzzy was terrified. 2 out of 3 isn't bad. After a few times of watching his brothers having a blast jumping, Fuzzy too warmed up to the idea and it wasn't long before I got a call while working from him to tell me he jumped all by himself and loved it. He has been on the trampoline several times a day since.

It may have taken several years and 3 kids to use as an excuse to buy the items from my wish list but my kids have got every bit as much enjoyment out of them as I imaged I would have. Now when my kids ask me for some sort of lavish toy I can say with confidence, "when you grow up and get a job you can buy a _________ yourself" just like my parents told me.

Tr@$hless Tue$d@y

Trashless Tuesday is something devised by the environmental group at my sons' school. The idea is for all students to bring a completely trashless lunch every Tuesday. I'm all for doing what I can to help the planet but Trashless Tuesday makes for Manic Mental Meltdown Monday Night.

I make school lunches the night before to save myself the time and stress of packing them in the midst of our fairly smooth morning routine. I can not imagine packing a Trashless Tuesday lunch Tuesday morning while trying to get Little Bear up and ready for school and keeping him from hearing some of the choice words that come out of my mouth while trying to get the trashless lunch to fit in the lunch bag.

The typical children's lunch bag is not designed to hold dozens of tupperware containers. It is meant to hold prepackaged apple sauces, granola bars and yogurt containers. The producers of these products have likely done research on how their product should fit in a lunch bag. I don't think Tupperware does the same amount of research.

I do consider the environment when packing my kids' lunches. We use tupperware reusable drink containers in place of milk cartons or juice boxes, sandwich containers in place of sandwich baggies and containers for many fresh fruits, veggies and dips. There is a point however where no more containers will fit in the lunch bag and baggies are necessary in order to get everything in there. There are also those occasions where there just aren't enough clean small containers to complete the lunch packing process.

If the Trashless Tuesday mission is not completed then a very disappointed child has a big "X" placed beside his name on the Trashless Tuesday tracking sheet and I am bound to hear about how Little Johnny doesn't have an Xs on the sheet because his mom is a super duper tupperware packer...or Johnny starves. To avoid these situations I try my darnest to accomplish the task. Sometimes it is necessary to go to great lengths to evade that dread X even if that means emptying a yogurt cup into a container or peeling open a cheese stick just to stick it in its own bulky container which totally voids the purpose of Trashless Tuesday.

This year I only have 1 lunch to make on Tuesdays. Next year I will have 2. If the environmental group decides Trashless Tuesday will be a good way to torture parents...I mean help the planet I think I will have to invest in tackle boxes in place of lunch pails so I don't have to stress about how I'm going to fit all that Tupperware. I guess the silver lining is there are only 4 more Trashless Tuesdays left this school year.

Good Advice

"Eat bacon whenever you can, always have dessert, don't worry about the small stuff and never, ever exercise." This was Johanna Quints answer when asked, on her 100th birthday, what is the secret of a long life? That is some GOOD advice or at least I like to think it is. I worry a bit too much but I'm doing a pretty good job of following the rest of Ms. Quint's recommendations so I think I'm on my way to living to be 90ish. I also think Ms. Quint would have been a pretty cool lady.

Eat bacon whenever you can - ABSOLUTELY! No problem there...except when trying to fit into last year's summer clothes.

Always have dessert - Don't mind if I do and I don't have a problem skipping a meal to make room for ice cream or cupcakes either.

Don't worry about the small stuff - If I could avoid it I would. There are lots of times when an off switch for my brain would come in handy.

Never, ever exercise - Other than the most inescapable physical activities associated with being a Mom like bike riding with the kids, walking around an animal farm and some Wii game workouts I try very hard to never, ever exercise.

Thank you so much Jay Leno and the Tonight Show staff for including Johanna Quint's good advice in Thursday nights addition of Headlines (also my favourite feature on the show). Her words might just be my new motto. Thank you for instilling confidence that my life is likely to be a lengthy one and I should never give up loving bacon.

RIP Johanna Quint April 1, 1911 - May 9, 2011

30

Today is supposed to be my birthday. However, due to the ugly truth this day brings I have decided that my birthday is cancelled this year. This year I was to turn 30. 30 is old so in order to preserve my youth I am just not going to have any more birthdays. Really I think turning a year older 29 times is more than enough. There are plenty of things that if done 29 times would be considered excessive - like getting married 29 times. Having 29 babies. Having 29 one night stands. I think I have had enough birthdays.

When I was little I thought that teenagers were cool. People in their 20s were sophisticated. People in their 30s were old and anyone older than that was a granny. I don't want to be old. I don't want to look in the mirror and see a wrinkly old 30 year old staring back. When someone tells me to "act my age" I don't want that to mean I have to learn to golf or apply denture cream. I want to stay young and hip - OK so I never really was hip but now my chance to be has passed. I want to wear my hair in pigtails and look cute.

I don't think I have ever been so depressed about a birthday in my life. The things that people say to try to make you feel better about turning 30 don't help either. "30 is the new 20!" - No, no its not. 20 is 20 and 30 is old. "You're only as old as you feel" - being 30 makes me feel like 80 is just around the corner. Seriously just shut up. 30 sucks. The End.