Sometimes the Wee Ladies' feet can get out from under them. And sometimes they lose their balance easily, especially when they are learning how to steady themselves. When they are running quickly and are trying to escape the Mommy Trap or the Daddy Monster, their internal Navigation Steering System can short circuit. The system becomes temporarily unavailable resulting in a collision with a wall, closet, sister, furniture, or other obstacle in their path.

We sometimes refer to a Wee Lady as being 'drunken' when she loses her step, stumbles down the hall, and crashes into something. If she were asked to walk a straight line, there is no way she would pass a sobriety test. She stumbles back and forth, smashes into a wall, and falls on her face. While she looks like she has had one too many cocktails, it is her Navigation Steering System that experiences little technical glitches. Her mind is telling her body to move one way, but somehow her body gets the wrong message and she ends up heading the wrong direction. There is impact with the door, followed by her spiraling out of control and landing on the floor, face down.

Then there is the wide turn. Picture a Wee Lady running full tilt down the hall. The Navigation Steering System tells her to make a sharp right into the bathroom. She sees her destination, but fails to adjust the speed in order to accommodate the turn. She needs to decrease her thrust to slow down a bit. This can happen too late at times and she under-compensates. As this happens, her entire body turns and she comes in from the far side of the door, slightly grazing the frame. The linen closet ends up absorbing the impact.

As air traffic controllers, Hubby and I see where the Wee Ladies want to go. And sometimes we watch the collision unfold. These events happen so quickly and we realize that the Navigation Steering System is failing, but it is most often too late.

Like Newton's first law, the Wee Ladies are objects in motion that want to stay in motion....until they hit the wall.

There have been collisions of many kinds and injuries to go with them. Scrapes, bruises, and even goose eggs. But the air traffic controllers can only do so much. We can guide them to their destination accordingly, but ultimately it is their Navigation Steering Systems that need to get them there in one piece. We try to prevent some crashes, but we cannot eliminate them. As time goes on, the system automatically upgrades itself and installs new software. And the Navigation Steering System failures become less and less.

The air traffic controllers don't like witnessing smash and crashes. The mess is not fun to clean up. But we know that it is inevitable and that all systems can fail at times. We just know that it makes for better and stronger systems.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family

To make my pal Missy (aka Auntie Missy) feel better about some of the bodily enhancements during pregnancy, I am exposing this-
These are my jowls at the end of my third pregnancy. I was suffering from severe 'face in a face'. Yes, for each of my three pregnancies I experienced this problem. My face grew and grew and it can almost be argued that it was 'face in a face in a face.' Multiple chins.....I had jowls. It felt like my chin was reaching to give my boobs a high five. My cheeks looked as if they were stuffed with food all the time. Which-they-were....but I retained water. That's right. I do not blame the picture below at all. Nothing to do with it. Innocent.
It happens to pregnant people, this 'face in a face' phenomena, especially at the end. Well, I had it most of the way through, but then again the stuff in the above photo called out to me for daily consumption.

So Auntie Missy thinks she has 'face in a face', when really she has the pregnant glow. Compared to my jowls, she has healthy, fuller cheeks now. But you can still see some definition. I am just getting my definition back after a year.

Nothing feels worse than that bloated feeling. You feel like you are a water balloon and if anyone were to come near you with a pin, you would be done for. In reality, I always found it amusing to sit and stare at my cankles and then poke them. My skin was like a Memory Foam mattress. It would dimple. The indentation could last for hours. Sometimes I would sit and time how long it would take for my skin to return to its original cankled contours.

Not only did I suffer from 'face in a face-in a face', but also the 'ass beyond the ass'. I would beep when I was backing up. I had to take wide turns in order to steer my belly and ass around the corner. And here is the biggest confession that I have told no one except Auntie Lisa to this date. I had to go to Wal*Mart to buy pants to take me through the last few weeks. Nothing fit me, not even my maternity clothes. I kid you not. We made a pact that we would never speak of that trip again. But here I am. It happened. I made adjustments. Big ones.

So along with all of these bodily enhancements, the good news is that a baby made it onto the world safe and sound. And the other good news is that the jowls and ass weaned down. I eventually took the load off.

Auntie Missy is at that point where 'face in a face' makes her feel large. But really, she is one of the most beautiful pregnant ladies I have ever seen. She looks like a million bucks.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Have a fun weekend! Don't forget about our contest! Scroll down for details.

Labels: DDM

I don't think The Destroyer stands a chance. The poor kid is only 14 months old and is blamed for everything by her older siblings. Already. I thought that at least she would be exempt from that until she was able to speak. I have concluded that her not being able to defend herself makes her a perfect target. And so the fingers point. Always in her general direction.

As the days progress and the house looks increasingly like it's just been burgled, the messes are blamed on the youngest. Spills? The Destroyer. Crumbs? The Destroyer. Strewn about toys? The Destroyer. Paint on the table, markers on the wall? You guessed it. And she doesn't even paint or draw.

I arrive in the kitchen to the place that I have the paint supplies set up. I have organized this area so that newspaper lays underneath to catch drippings, and the paint and brushes are strategically placed away from the mini-mini hands. To my shock and horror (not really) I find paint on the table, not the newspaper, paint on the chair, paint on the floor, and paint on the wall. Paint is also all over our wee artists. A little bit was lightly dappled onto the paper in a wonderful rainbow of colours which reminded me of a beautiful Impressionist piece. Much like Monet. The Wee Ladies are so talented. Like museum caliber. (I giggle)

DDM: Wow! This is interesting, girls. How did the paint find itself all over the place?

EvieG: Look at my picture, Mom! Isn't is good?

DDM: Yes, it is very good, I love it. But how did the paint get to all of these other places?

EvieG: (pointing to her baby sister) I think The Destroyer did it.

DDM: What do you mean? She doesn't know how to paint yet. Are you sure?

EvieG: I don't know.

This is when I give my stare down. Followed by a little healthy reverse psychology. I look at her straight in the eye and never look away first. That means she knows I am in control. I am Alpha.

DDM: You know, I hope you're not fibbing. Because I don't like fibbing. Mommy always knows if you fib. And if you do fib to me, you will get into a lot more trouble than if you are to tell Mommy the truth. Now let me ask you again. How did this mess get here?

EvieG: Me and Spark Plug. (Shamefully, her head lowers but she stares up at me with her massive blue eyes)

DDM: Good for you for telling me the truth. You know I don't like messes on my tables, walls, and floors, right?

EvieG: Right.

DDM: Go to the cloth drawer and get you and your sister a cloth, wet it and clean it up, please. And don't do that again.

EvieG: Ok, Mommy.

I am working very hard to steer the Wee Ladies away from the urge to lie. And then blame her sisters. I know that this is inevitable, and that they will try. I always use the Don't-even-bother- lying-because-you-will-be-in-BIG-TROUBLE-YOUNG-LADY business. And it works every time.

I do get a kick out of them blaming the one who cannot defend herself in any capacity. Every mess that EvieG doesn't feel like cleaning up is always blamed on The Destroyer. Spark Plug can stick up for herself now. She can be verbal and physical. The rule in our house is, you make the mess, you clean it up. And so I come in to throw sand on the fire. It all gets sorted. We talk through it. And any mess that The Destroyer does make, we all pitch in. Because she is only wee. She can't do that yet. Uh huh.

Give her some more time to figure out that others will constantly pick up after her. Who's going to be laughing then?

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Don't forget to scroll down to check out our contest!

Labels: Battle, Responsibility

The Wee Ladies have lots of friends. Most of their friends are close to home. Sometimes these friends are too close and invade our home. They sometimes have a tendency to overstay their welcome. I am talking about friends of the 6, 8, and many thousand legs variety (worms excluded). I am not always a fan of these friends they bring home. They come in, make themselves at home, eat my food, and make a mess of my floor until I finally put my foot down. Literally. Some of these friends find that they are no longer welcome in our home. Ever.

We go from hugging to debugging. The Wee Ladies make these buggy friends out in our backyard. They play, they hug, they become attached. Attached to the point of where they want to invite them in for dinner. The bugs either come inside in a careful hand cradle, or they follow the cookie crumb trail to the table.

We have had a variety of guests in our house. We've had beetles (sometimes legs up), worms, potato bugs (how fitting for dinner hour), ants, flies, ladybugs, and more. I try to tell the Wee Ladies that they need to stay outside for dinner, but all of a sudden I will look over to find Spark Plug trying to feed her friend. Or EvieG will have set a place at the table for her friend. I am glad the Wee Ladies are so hospitable. It warms my heart.
These critters are not so dumb either. Once they have had a taste of my homemade baked goods, they try to come back again and again. I am flattered that they enjoy my cooking, however, I do not like the way they sneak around, trying to find the best back door route to the fridge. They will try and find the smallest point of entry into my kitchen. I don't appreciate being manipulated and really don't like having the wool pulled over my eyes as they try and get past me for another bite of muffin crumb. It's time to get out the big guns. Spray.

Before I spray, I try tactic number one. This is where I explain to the Wee Ladies that their bug friends aren't meant to be in our house. I inform them that their bug house is outside and by keeping them in with us means that their mommies and daddies, brothers and sisters would miss them. It is best that we send them back outside so they can be with their own families. I proceed to tell them that the bugs can come and play with us again another time. This usually works, but we have had Spark Plug refuse to give up her friends. She sometimes clenches them so hard, they really have no chance of ever playing with her again. I get the Wee Ladies to find a happy place to put their bug friends for their families to find them. We debug and off go the Wee Ladies. Leaving their bug friends in their final resting place, only to forget them after 5 minutes.

If tactic number one doesn't work, I try tactic number 2. I have had to put my actual foot down as well as my chemical signature. It only takes once to get my message across to the pesty, mooching friends. I make it perfectly clear that they are no longer welcome at our house. They can go eat off someone else's floor now, and by golly, they better not for one second try to sneak in on the dog. Because I will catch them. Oh, yes, I will. And it won't be pretty.

I love that the Wee Ladies have a loving nature that includes all creatures. This is wonderful and I don't knock it in front of them. I encourage them to love these critters, pick them up, and hold them carefully because I don't want them to be scared of bugs, or slimy things. So we encourage worm picking.

I just make sure that I blast and debug the house when they aren't watching.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

We are having our first contest. YAY!

Up for grabs is a fab shopping cart cover from www.generationbaby.ca.

Generation Baby is a Canadian manufacturer of stylish and functional baby accessories that help make the lives of parents a little easier. The Shopping Cart Cover keeps baby comfortable and safe from germs and disease found on grocery carts handles. This unique product is universally sized to fit all shopping carts and folds into its own front pocket for quick and easy storage.

Here's how to win:

Submit a tale about the most germ infested experience you have had with children.

Did you cringe when your child licked the handle of the shopping cart? Did your child pick up their soother from the floor of a public place and put it in their mouth without having it washed it off? Were they crawling all over a place filled with all sorts of germy goodness? Tell us about it!

Please send your tales to ddm@dressdownmoms.com by Wednesday, July 2, 2008 and the winner will be announced Thursday, July 3, 2008.

Happy tales!

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Contests

We are in it again. For the second time. We have started potty training Spark Plug, our 2 year old. It is going to be interesting to see how it goes because she refuses to put on Pull Ups. It's either regular diapers, nothing, or her new Dora 'Big Girl Pants.'

She started using the potty at preschool. And then when she was out at the In-Laws running around in her birthday suit, she stopped dead in her tracks, looked at me and said, "Potty!" She ran herself into the washroom, sat on the toilet and went. She wiped and flushed all by herself. I couldn't believe it and I accept no credit for this act whatsoever. While I gave her my over-exaggerated, enthusiastic response complete with clapping, hugging, and praising, I was thinking to myself, This is going to make the rest of the potty training experience that much easier. Thank goodness for preschool. She was ready. And I was ready. Ready to tackle and incorporate this new routine into our lives.

I took her out to the store and made a HUGE deal about buying her first real big girl pants. She was so excited that she carried the package to the cash herself. When we got home we put them in the washing machine together. I was all stealth and pulled out a another pair that I already washed and we put them on. I had her sit on the potty first. She went. Big claps and hugs! Yay! We put the big girl pants on and she strutted around feeling all mature and stuff. She was proud. So was I. I gave her a couple of Smarties to acknowledge her success.

About 20 minutes later-wet pants. Oh, man! No problem. It was almost N to the A to the P time and so I put on a diaper. That was it for the day. We started small.

Today I started the day with putting on the freshly laundered big girl pants after trying the potty with no success. Again, feeling all proud, she pranced around the upstairs hall. We had breakfast and about 10 minutes later EvieG shouts to me, "Mom! There is yellow on the floor!" Sure enough there was a big puddle. I cleaned it up and put a diaper on her.

This could be where I made my mistake.

EvieG trained in a week over March Break when she was 2 1/2. We have 2 other kids in the mix. Do I keep putting on the big girl pants and just take her to try the potty every 20 minutes or so? Or do we start small by having them on for a little while each day? I don't want to give up, but don't want to be cleaning puddles up every 2 seconds until I find that I have no more cloths because they are all soiled and in the wash.

For those moms out there who have trained a second or subsequent children, how did you do it? How did you dedicate the time to staying consistent?

Input is appreciated and quite frankly, needed.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Responsibility

It's 4:30 pm. The BBQ is on. The water is boiling. The Wee Ladies are screaming. I am going as fast as I can to get dinner ready for everyone. I turn on the TV with the hope that it will quiet them down. The Destroyer is clinging to my leg and is complaining. And then the phone rings. Who is that, I think to myself. I look at the display. 623 area code. Where the hell is that?

DDM: Hello?

No Name: Pause......

Is there anyone there?

DDM: Heeeellllllooooo? I don't have time for this! Shhhh!!! Everyone, quiet! For a second!

No Name: Is Mr. or Mrs. Gilbert there please?

Crap.

DDM: (sigh) This is.

No Name: We are conducting a consumer survey. Do you have a few moments to talk to us about your family's weekly grocery list?

DDM: I barely have time to talk to myself about my family's weekly grocery list, let alone write anything down. I am not interested. And take me off your calling list.

Click.

I hate telemarketers. The always call at the worst time. I know they do this on purpose. They have done their telemarketing studies and know when they are most likely to get an answer. I get so annoyed when they call as I am in the thick of mommy duty. Either during a meal time. Or when I am changing a diaper. And nothing irritates me more than when I am waiting for a call and I have a kid on the change table, the phone rings, I pull the kid off bare bum, and run down to pick up- nothing. There is nothing. Just blank. It's like there is a technical glitch in the connection between my house and India. They can hear me, but I can't hear them. It is here that I get really mad that I am racing for nothing, and risking finding an accident on my carpet. I do everything in my power not to throw the phone against the wall and yell, "Take this phone and shove it up....." Breathe. Breathe.

Hubby knows that I hate telemarketers. And when he takes the call, he is always so polite. He even has conversations with them sometimes. And I give him the What-the-hell-are-you-doing look. Doesn't he know that they are going to keep calling if he plays into them? Jeez! Everyone knows that! There are other days when Hubby doesn't feel like talking to them. He answers the phone and says, "Just a minute, please!" He makes it sound like it is someone for me. I take the phone only to get the, "You can call our office to claim your prize!" recording. As I clench the phone and my jaw, I look at Hubby and hand him the phone. I tell him to make sure he gets the number written down so we can G.A.W.K. and take a 4 day cruise in the Caribbean. We are in need of a trip away. And I turn on my heal and proceed with my mommy duties. He laughs every time.

I am always weary about telemarketers who come to the door. Usually I look out the window and say no thanks. No badge, no opening the door! I don't need to lock in my natural gas right now. Most times they come in peace and inform me that they are praying for my family and my neighbours. I just tell them thanks and then ask them if they can put in a little extra prayer that I get a good solid night's sleep. I ask them to pray that the kids sleep in so I can have just 5 more minutes.

I realize that the people on the other end are trying to make a living. I try not to get mad at them through the phone, because they are just doing their job. I get short with them, but I usually say, "I'm not interested," and hang up. Without saying good-bye. I figure that ending the call a couple of seconds prematurely only plays in their favour. This way they can quickly move on to the next number and either get the business they are working for, or piss off another mother who is trying to get dinner ready for her screaming kids.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Hope you like the new site!

PPS Thanks to my pal Laura for suggesting this blog topic. I hope I did it justice.

Labels: DDM, Hubby

During life before kids I was on time for everything. And obsessively on time. I couldn't stand being late for anything and got a little bent out of shape when people were late meeting me anywhere. Now that we have the three Wee Ladies, it is not uncommon for me to be totally tardy.

I consider myself to be a relatively organized individual. I keep the kids in line and keep the house in good order. Most days. But it seems that whenever I have an appointment, or an agenda of any kind that requires me to be a certain place at a certain time, I can pretty much guarantee I will be running a few minutes late.

This irritates me and I get so mad at myself. The problem with this irritation is that it can sometimes result in a 'lead foot' as they say. That's right. I can speed. I am happy to report that I have yet to get a speeding ticket. I have been close. Very close. Let's just say that it helps a) to live in a small town and b) to know some of the local police officers personally.

Just as I am about to step out the door, something always comes up. Either a kid has to be changed, someone falls, the phone rings, or I forget something and have to go back in. When I forget something it, the scenario looks like this:

1. Lock door, head to The Guzzler.

2. Get into The Guzzler and realize I forgot my purse. Go back in.

3. Grab purse and lock door again.

4. Get into Guzzler and realize I forgot dry cleaning.

5. Grab cleaning and go to the bathroom one more time. Lock door.

6. Get into Guzzler and realize I forgot reusable grocery bags (I do my part for the environment) and cell phone. Go back in. Open garage door.

7. Get bags and phone and get back into Guzzler. Close garage door, turn up CBC Radio 1, and drive away.

I am not exaggerating. This is very typical for me when I try to go anywhere. And I am usually tardy.

When I need to go anywhere alone and am depending on a babysitter, I rely on them to get to the house on time. But when they are running late themselves, it puts me even further behind and then I am really late to get to where I need to be. I have had to call my destination on more than one occasion to tell them I am running late. When this happens, I can feel my blood pressure increase and I start to sweat. When the sitter shows up, I have to go over the schedule and what the Wee Ladies need while I am gone. Then I run out the door and put it in high gear.

I am not sure how to tackle my tardiness issue. I guess all I can do is try to have everything ready for when I have to go. I try, but it seems there is always something else to do, or remember.

As long as I have done a head count of the Wee Ladies and can keep track of their whereabouts, then I can say 'Job well done, Mom,' and give myself a pat on that back. Everything else will fall into place. I will get where I need to be. Eventually. Even if I am a few minutes late. As long as I arrive alive and everyone is intact. That's what matters.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Have a great weekend! Thanks for reading!

Labels: DDM, Guilt

I got a great gift from my MIL. For Mother's Day, she got me a very generous gift certificate for some pampering. And tonight I am going to use it. I finally found the time to make the call.

I got an evening appointment so Hubby could be home to look after the Wee Ladies. I am going to have a pedicure and a facial. I am ecstatic. I can't wait. I need them to help me fix the fine lines around my eyes and mouth. I can't believe that I already have laugh lines and I am 33. I am not even in my mid-thirties yet. Mid-thirties to me is 35, 36, 37. I can't justify anything before that. Anyway, I am going to get some input on the wrinkles issue tonight. Maybe I can get some super duper Aveda product (it's an Aveda salon) to put those lines out of their misery.

Not only do I get to get pampered, but today is the day I finally get waxed. Hubby can't wait. This hairy beast will be no more. He is definitely going to be wanting some action tonight.

My Mom is coming over this afternoon to mind the Wee Ladies so I can get the hair ripped from my body and then go to the grocery store. I am desperate. We are out of basic staples, like bread and milk. We still have KD though. I can't take the Wee Ladies with me because The Destroyer has the Chicken Pox. She is till in the thick of it.

Today is good times for this Dress Down Mom. A little loving. Much needed loving.

Next on the list? Fix my hair.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

My hair sucks. I am one of those people who is rarely happy with the state of their head. I can never get the colour right, there are always roots, and I am sooooo tired of the whispies. Whispies is the regrowth one experiences around the hairline after babies are born. And I have had whispies for what feels like as long as any Hollywood marriage- a couple of years followed by a break, and then another year, followed by another break, and then another year. It just wasn't working out so now I am on a final break. And this time I need to give my hair the time it needs to heal. So healing it is, and increasingly annoying it becomes.

I was always kind of blonde. Somewhere in between Kate Hudson and Sheryl Crow, although I was never linked to Lance Armstrong in any way. Once I became pregnant I stopped colouring my hair. It was the dumbest mistake I ever made. Because my hair has never been right since. What did I think would happen? The baby would come out deformed because I had foils? Please. So I had major roots the first time around. I got it sort of fixed. I decided for the second pregnancy I would go back to my natural shit brown colour. I did, and didn't have any noticeable roots. I have a hint of strawberry in my hair and so when I wanted to return to blonde, I became brassy ochre. The strawberry in my colour allowed for an orangey tint that you can only find during a beautiful summer sunset. But somehow it didn't look as nice on my head.

The third pregnancy I went back to my shit brown colour, but coloured it once I found out I was pregnant. And now, I am back to the same situation. I don't know what to do. Why can't I just become a blonde again?

Along with my shades of woe, I have whispies now. Again. For the third time. After each baby, I lost a crapload of hair. It was falling out by the handful. I had to clean out my brush everyday. Along with cleaning my brush, I had to vacuum everyday because I was shedding with the best of the labs. There was hair everywhere. My friends were constantly picking hair off me. There were random hairs flying around The Guzzler when I had the windows down and I would find them all over. Just like I used to find random ashes at the back of the vehicle from my cigarettes when I was a teenager. And now that the shedding is over I am in the middle of Whispieville. The hair on my hairline is at that ugly, useless length. It just sticks out all over. The only way to temporarily get rid of them is by lacquering them down with hairspray. And I don't use product very often. So I am dealing with fly away hair most of the time.

Look at this. Don't I look like a real prize? Bad roots and whispies. Ignore the unwaxed brows and fine lines around the eyes. Maybe I should go and do the time warp with the carnies. I would fit right in.
The one good thing about my post-pregnancy head is that now I have a nice, natural wave. I had dead straight hair my whole life and now it is curly. Kind of cool. It's a nice change. I can wear it all messy and Olsen twin like now. If I could only fix my colour issue, I could fit right in on the red carpet.

I am trying to figure out what to do. Lacquer it all the time until it is done flying about? Or seek more professional advice in addition to what I have already received as to what to do with my colour and current cut? I need to think about it some more. Any thoughts?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM

The time is here. We have all three Wee Ladies around the table. The highchair is gone. For good.

Over the weekend, we decided to bring in one of the extra booster chairs and put it at the table for The Destroyer. She has been wanting to get out of the highchair for a while now. Hubby set it up to officially mark her own spot at the big table. She couldn't feel more proud to be sitting at the table.

She loves it. She feels like she is part of the action now. We had the highchair right beside the table, but I guess it wasn't enough for her. She has gone from taking a few bites and fighting to stand up in the chair to seated, lengthy, leisurely lunches. She is a good eater too. She polishes everything off for the most part. I have even given a spoon for her yogurt and she gets really mad at me when I try to take it away or help her get the aim right. She makes a huge mess in the process but she is learning. She wants to be like her sisters.

It feels great to have everyone at the table. I love having family dinner time. I think it is so important. This gives us all a chance to discuss our day and also talk about things we want to do together. I like having that family bonding and I think that the open communication we have now will be beneficial as the Wee Ladies get older. I want them to feel comfortable talking about anything and everything with us.

Along with the communication, meal time around the table is a time to teach decent manners. We work on staying seated, eating politely, and being excused once the meal is over and the Wee Ladies (except The Destroyer) take their dishes to the sink. I personally want them to be able to eat politely both in and out of the house.

Restaurant behaviour is a big one for me. I can't stand the mayhem that I sometimes see when out in public and have decided with Hubby that we want our kids to know and understand proper manners when out of our house. There will be no running around, shouting, throwing food, or major messes. But most of all, I never want them to think it is okay to misbehave when other people have come out to enjoy and pay for a decent meal with their hard earned money. Nothing is worse than receiving looks of death by others if the child decides that they have had enough. We have had that experience.

We rarely go out to restaurants. With the Wee Ladies so small, it is a big risk to take them all out. Plus it is expensive. In the meantime, we will teach them proper manners at home so by the time we can all go out and enjoy a meal, they will know how to manage themselves. I will keep my fingers crossed and cannot promise anything.

We have reached the end of another era- I made a bright yellow For Sale sign for the highchair and taped it to the tray. Hubby took it out to the road and it was gone within a couple of hours. Some grandparents picked it up to use at their house for their grandkids. I am happy that someone else will get some use out of it.

These milestones always remind me how quickly the time goes. While I struggle sometimes watching my babies grow so fast, I know that the next milestone will make one of them feel proud and important. And that makes me happy.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family, Responsibility

Hubby says that if you want time to stand still, all you have to do is pay a visit to the local fair to hang with the carnies. Over the weekend, Hubby took EvieG to the annual local fair. He came home saying 2 things: 1. I just came from the time warp. I was just worm-holed back to 1978, and 2. The carnies just took for me for 80 bucks. All of a sudden, I was out of cash. They get you coming and going.

The carnies know how to make a buck and are quite handy. They can assemble and disassemble an entire park full of rides and 'joints' (slang for booth) in no time. They are like the Doozers on Fraggle Rock. They can build a whole city in a blink of an eye. And they build the city on rock n' roll. I wonder how many carnies are recruited to work on and for concert tours?

EvieG had a blast, but she didn't know that the foul smell was stale cigarettes and whiskey. And she thought the lady was 'pretty' in her hot pink tube top, bull horn tattoo, ripped jean shorts, and stained white synthetic canvas tennis shoes. She didn't realize that she was depending on hungover substance abusers to get her on and off the rides alive. Hubby took her on the Ferris Wheel and it stopped for several minutes right at the very top. Hubby said that he was constantly scanning for any unstable wobbly parts. He was expecting the bolts to come flying off at any moment.

There is much to learn at the fair and the carnies are their own culture with an in-depth knowledge of its inner workings. They have their own language and can guide you appropriately during your visit. Hubby overheard that if you want the ride of your life, come hungover and pack yourself into a potato sack and slide down 'The Landslide'. Nothing beats the sensation of rolling down the slide in 30 degree heat inside a prickly bag while seeing double and feeling like your are going to hurl all over the guy in the next lane. You haven't lived until you have done that. Hubby didn't even try the bumper cars for fear that they might be part of a short circuit and electrocute themselves.

EvieG played some games. She fished, she shot some stuff, and played my personal favourite- the ring toss around the beer bottles. She came home with three stuffed animals. The first thing I thought when I saw her prizes was, I wonder where they have been, how, and where these things are stored? Ewwww. She brought home a dog, which was the largest of the three, a moon, and a small guppy that fits in the palm of her hand. Shockingly, the guppy was the priciest of the bunch. She wanted to play all the games, and would have if Hubby let her. The carnies did a great job at enticing the youngster to come and play. For a fee, of course. These guys are like scalpers. They'll sell you the tickets and they make you think that you are getting the deal of your life.

There is a whole language that comes with the local fair. And in order not to be had, you must understand the carny lingo. I am providing you with my top five, plus more, favourites.

1. Alibi - A technique used where the player has apparently won the game, but is denied a prize when the jointee invents a further, unforeseeable, condition of the game. For example, a player may be disqualified on the grounds of having leaned over a previously undisclosed "foul line."

2. Flat - A game that is rigged so that you cannot win. Illegal in most places.

3. Mark- A target for swindling, especially one whose gullibility has been demonstrated.

4. Patch money - Money used to induce police officers to turn a blind eye. Also known as juice or ice.

5. Poke - The Mark's wallet is known as their Poke. When a carny tries to see how much is in a Mark's wallet, they "Peek their poke."

And a couple extra for shits and giggles:

6. Two-Way Joint - A game that can be quickly converted from a fixed, unwinnable game into a temporarily honest one when police officers come by.

7. Lot Lizard - Describes a carny (usually female) who has multiple sexual partners (also carnies) Or one who tends to "sleep-around" or cheat with other carnies on the lot.

8. Sugar Shack - A concession or food-stand that doubles as a front for drug commerce & trafficking.

9. Possum belly (sometimes possum gut) compartment under a truck or trailer.

10. Possum belly queen or PBQ - A girl who would have sex in a possum belly.

This cracks me up. But it kind of scares me at the same time. These fairs are cash cows. Although the kids have a ball, I can't help but wonder if our money is put to good use? Or is this carny culture made up of somewhat corrupt and shady practices behind the scenes? I would like to know.

Maybe I should take a walk through the 'Bone Yard' (the place where the carnies stay when they are not working) and find out more next time they come to town. Or maybe it's just better that I plead ignorance and enjoy the time with the Wee Ladies instead of analyzing a culture that I will never understand, but be highly entertained by.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Fun, Hubby

Thanks to Nenny With Twins for this article.

It is about taking it easy on children. Letting them live, play, and make decisions on their own. Cutting back on the over-scheduling. Letting go of the control some parents feel they need to hold on to. In a nutshell, giving their kids more credit to be responsible and self-directed. Allowing them more freedom in their days.

Do you feel that parents keep too tight a hold on their kids? Or do you see a shift from the overbearing parenting style back to the more laid back style that we grew up with in the 70's and 80's? Is it that parents are paranoid to let their children be on their own because of their own fears, or is it that they feel the need to stay competitive with other parents in this fast paced society in order not to be judged and labeled as a slacker parent?

I find this an interesting topic. What do you think?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

I wish everyone a Happy Fodder's Day this weekend!

I know we will have fun spoiling Hubby. EvieG made a cute something for him at school. I am not really sure what it is, but it looks cute.

I am going to link to a previous post dedicated to Hubby. Because we love him.

Check out Hubba Hubba Hubby.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Have a fun weekend and next week should be relatively glitch free! Thanks for reading!

Labels: Hubby

EvieG is almost 5 and never stops. She asks Why? about a hundred times a day, questions everything we say, and has her own thoughts on things. This is a good thing because she is growing to be strong and an independent thinker. Sometimes it can wear on me. I find myself answering her with, "Because I said so, " or " Because I'm the Mother," a lot of times. What never fails to give me a solid laugh is the 'loud whisper'. And it is always in my ear. And my ear is always left with the bits of spit from her whisper.

When EvieG has a good idea she has to start telling me about it using her 'indoor voice' as I call it. Then when she gets to the nitty gritty of the idea she has to whisper it into my ear. Here's an example:

DDM: Do you want to bake some muffins this afternoon?

EvieG: Ya! Let's make muffins and oh, I have a good idea! Let's make (pulls me down to her level) muffins with....(whispering loudly) bananas and chocolate chips!

DDM: ( As I wipe my ear) That sounds great! How about if we put in some (whispering in her ear) blueberries!

EvieG: Ya! Ya! Ya! That sounds good. And then we can ask the worker men (pulls me down again) if they want a muffin. And we can make cookies for them too!

DDM: (Wiping again) Ok. Let's do it.

This cracks me up every time. Because after she's done whispering and has left a high level of humidity on my ear, she looks at me with her huge blue eyes and a smile that stretches to the other side of town. She is so proud of herself for coming up with such a fab idea. I am proud too. The only reason I said blueberries is because our bananas aren't overripe yet. And I explained that to her.

She does this loud whisper with a lot of her ideas. One of my personal frequent favourites is, "I know what we can have for breakfast! (Pulls me in) Pancakes with strawberries!" I wonder why it is such a secret? I never question it. In fact I look forward to it. And I wonder who she is keeping the great secret from? There is usually no one in the room except the two of us, yet she always feels compelled to whisper to me when the ideas emerge in her head. I love it.

So I have taken to doing the same thing to her. She gets a kick out of it and it keeps her doing it in return. This is my new favourite thing to do with her. I like that she feels she can tell me all of her secrets. I know this won't last forever. So if I can perpetuate this for a while longer, I will.

I just hope she will always feel comfortable to share her thoughts and ideas with me. I know I will try really hard to keep an open forum with her. I never want to get sidelined by her.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Fun

Oh, the drama. The drama that I find myself in the middle of right now is astonishing. It first started with the Chicken Pox. Right now we are in the eye of the storm. I suspect it will be next week when it hits with full throttle again. Then there was the whole no phone and internet thing. And THEN we discovered last night at about 9:45 pm that our basement had temporarily become a splash pad for all to play on. Yes, our basement was flooded. We had backwash from the street come in after the storm. Fear not, friends. We have Restoration Hardcore making this sweet pain go away.

Oh, the drama. I haven't had this much drama since Bjork wore a swan to the Oscars.

I say sweet pain because even though cleaning everything out is a pain in the ass, we get a brand new basement, all thanks to our wonderful insurance company. We get new drywall, carpeting, laminate flooring, and anything that was damaged will be replaced. So that means the bedroom suite from circa 1952 is going to be all pretty and new. PLUS we get to reorganize our storage which was already on my To Do List. Nothing goes back into the storage room unless we are going to keep it. I'm serious. No pack rats allowed.

Restoration Hardcore (obviously not to be confused with Restoration Hardware) arrived this afternoon. The doorbell rang. When I opened the door I was greeted by two guys in their mid 20's wearing their black company golf shirts and holding their clip boards and mop. I got a little jingle- to the tune of London Bridge.

So I hear your basement's soaked,
Basement's soaked, basement's soaked.
So I hear your basement's soaked.
And we're rather choked up.

When we're done it'll be all new,
Be all new, be all new.
When we're done it will be all new,
You will get all choked up.

And they went to work. These guys know how to move stuff! They moved the entire basement to the garage and tore out all the flooring in a matter of minutes! This was no easy task. This is a crapload of stuff. I'm not kidding. This picture is only the storage room of the basement. And the bins are lined up 3 rows across, 3 or 4 tubs high, and 3 rows deep. It's a lot of tubs.


Now there is nothing but cement floors and gigantic fans that will run beyond full capacity. These suckers will give anyone a cow lick.

The emergency phase of Restoration Hardcore is done. They wanted to get the floors out before any mold set in. Tomorrow they come back and begin phase 2 in which our new basement will be born. I think this whole renovation will be done in a couple of weeks. Restoration Hardcore doesn't mess around. They mean business.

I have to say that I haven't been this busy, ever. Except for the time when I was nesting and cleaned the entire house with a toothbrush and bleach. Three times. It has literally been non-stop for the past week. And without phones and internet, I got so much done. I crossed off a bunch of stuff from my To Do List. The SallyAnn (Salvation Army) is really thanking me right now for my kind and generous donations. I cleaned out and organized the linen closet, upstairs closet, kitchen cupboards and drawers, and the oven. I tried the self clean mode but almost died of inhalation so I just used the Fume Free Easy Off. It worked perfectly fine.

I am DYING to get waxed though. I was supposed to go today, but I was being serenaded by Restoration Hardcore instead. I am one hairy beast though, and now I have to re-book. M'Lady will cringe and probably run away scared when she sees me. Hubby does.

I'm telling you, this house is going to be so clean and organized that it will be ready to list. But we're not moving. Yet.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Thanks for sticking by me during all this crazy drama.

Labels: Chores

The words I will hear this coming Thursday between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm are, "Caaaabbbblllleee Guuuuuyyy!" Sorry, friends, but except for right now, I am basically offline until Friday. I am experiencing major technical difficulties.

We had a thunder storm last night and our digital phones and internet went down. This morning service our was still not restored and I called the cable people. They did indeed confirm that there was a hydro problem in the area, but that it had already been fixed. Except my house. Of course. Lightening probably struck our modem and it surged the entire neighbourhood.

We wait. Until Thursday somewhere between- well whenever they feel like getting the asses over to my house. Probably at 4:55 pm. Because they just have to make me wait alllll day. Like I don't have anything else going on. Please.

I didn't realize how addicted I am to my computer. This surge is killing me. The house is so quiet during nap time. No sounds of typing. I am seriously experiencing some withdrawal. I find myself pacing. Maybe this is a good lesson for me and I will realize how much time I spend on the computer and not with the Wee Ladies. This has been and will continue to be a good slap in the face. A good shake. But we all know that I will pull a Lilo and say "EFF Rehab", and be back at it on Friday. Just like I never left.

I am at my Mom's right now. She agreed to look after the Wee Ladies while I blog. Thanks, Mom. Someone had to keep them occupied here. There are one too many crystal Mikasa frames on display. Along with other priceless breakable objects that call out to the Wee Ladies, invite them over for a pick up, followed by a drop and smash. It has happened. So far I owe my Mom one crystal Mikasa frame. That will put a dent in my already tight budget, so I will sign off and save the frames from another catastrophe.

I apologize for this, but please stay with me. If I can, I will come over here and post. But one never knows what the days will bring with the Wee Ladies. Especially now that I am expecting another visit from the Chicken Pox any day. One down, one possibly two more to go. Viruses, teething kids, and no where to turn!! No internet! No phone!

Have mercy on me.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Any guesses on what the cable guy will look like? Hot guy in uniform, or NOT?

Labels: Announcements, Battle

Nothing freaks me out more than a choking Wee Lady. I am paranoid and petrified when it comes to food getting stuck in their throats. I will say that over time, I have become a little more laid back in when I introduce solids and how big I make the pieces. Of course it depends on how many teeth they have. Being the third time around, The Destroyer was eating full 5 course meals and cutting it herself at a year.

I still get paranoid about choking. I always have a phone handy and ready to dial 911. I have never had to call the emergency personnel but we have had a couple of choking incidents. My heart started racing, I became flushed and hot, and I started perspiring. In my armpits.

The first time was when EvieG was 18 months old and we went out for dinner. We had pizza and she had some too. Cut up all fine like. So I thought. We were leaving and all was well. She was buckled in her seat and we were getting ourselves situated. All of a sudden, we looked back because we heard the gagging noise. I freaked. "She's choking! She's choking!" Hubby flew out of the car (it wasn't The Guzzler then) and got her out, put her over his forearm, face to the ground, and swiftly smacked her back. And to our disbelief out flew a piece of ham. With the rind on it. I was about 5 seconds away from calling 911. It all happened quickly as these incidents always do, but we were scared.

Spark Plug choked on water. All the time. She still does sometimes. I think I had to pound her back a couple of times because she choked on a Cheerio. We didn't have any major scares with her. Food and drink going down the wrong shoot is so normal for her, we don't even really flinch anymore. She tries to get us to flinch by fake coughing. I always tell her, "Nice one." I will check for any lodgings. I do the clean and sweep, as I call it. Stick my finger in and feel around. Potentially harmful I know. But if she is still able to breathe, chances are she is okay and she will get through.

The Destroyer has had a couple of situations. One was yesterday. And we were out at the in-laws which is on the lake, a half hour from any hospital. I am always extra paranoid here and cut the food extra small. Just in case. She started gagging and couldn't breathe. I grabbed her and did the old over the forearm slap. She was fine and it all came out. It was a freaking cracker for crying out loud. She had shoved too many in at once. She has actually had a couple of times where she choked on a non-food related object. Once was a sticker. She was gagging and coughing and trying to get it out and then projectile vomited across the kitchen. That was another time when I was 5 seconds away from 911. The Destroyer has been the worst for putting crap in her mouth. Anything she sees goes in. She is getting past it now, but occasionally likes to peruse and snack on the dog's food.

I am forever scanning for choking hazards. Especially when we are not at home. I pretend like I'm listening to a conversation when really I am taking inventory on what is laying around.

I still get scared even though we have done this whole baby thing three times. I don't think you ever get over it. I don't shred The Destroyer's food as much like I did with the other Wee Ladies when they were just over a year. She is capable of eating pretty well and has the pearly whites to shred it herself. She just gets greedy sometimes. It doesn't matter how much I shred, she is going to shove her mouth full if she can.

I think I will keep the phone accessible for another while. Just in case.

All's I"m sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, Guilt

I am becoming more worried about the rising gas prices. In our town it was around $1.33 per litre over the weekend. In the US it is averaging $4.00 per gallon now. That is crazy to me! We are staying even closer to home (even when I thought we couldn't get any closer....) because we don't have the cash to fill up the vehicles every week. I am trying hard to do it every other week. Here is an article from Yahoo! News this morning.

It's like $80 or more CDN to fill up our van. This is a HUGE expense every month because we have the van, which is a gas guzzler. It's killing me. But we have 3 kids and have no choice right now but to drive the guzzler. That's what I am going to call the van from now on. As of right now, it is officially The Guzzler. Hubby has a mid-size pick up truck that isn't as bad on gas.

I saw on CNN that polls have been done regarding the current prices. People originally said that they would change their plans when the price hit $3.50 per gallon. So some people did. It kept rising and people are saying that they will definitely change their plans now that it has hot $4.00 per gallon. It is costing too much to go any distance frequently! Either people car pool, stay put, or use other forms of transportation. Or people just pay.

Now that the gas people, whoever they are, know that the general public will make more changes at the $4.00 mark, why would it ever go below that again? They know that people make little changes up to that point, but after $4.00, there are bigger changes being made in people's lives. As far as they are concerned, they don't have to go back. People will pay. In more ways than one.

How high will it go? When will we really put on the brakes?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

I am inundated with the Chicken Pox and tending to the needs of EvieG, plus meeting the demands of the other Wee Ladies. So I will briefly talk about the new web site that is coming soon to a computer near you.

The new web site will contain the blog among other things. There will be a FAQ section, Who's DDM?, Contact Us and a couple other areas. There will be ads promoting local business. The site has a whole new look and I am very excited about it.

I want to thank everyone who is reading. The support means a lot. I am looking forward to helping out Moms and businesses. It is a new challenge for me. I also hope that you continue to be a part of this cause, because without you, it wouldn't work. Thank you.

I am going to try and keep EvieG busy. We have another oatmeal bath on the agenda, followed by some reading, and painting.

I just hope the other Wee Ladies will be okay!

All's I'm sayin's all.

Have a great weekend. Ontario is going to be H.O.T. this weekend. These are the greatest weekends because anytime is Miller time. Bottoms up.

Labels: Announcements

I just finished signing a two week deal with the Chicken Pox. That is the minimum amount of time we will be working together. I am sure that this relationship will be trying at times, but in the end we will be glad we collaborated. At least when the contract is over, it will be over for good. We will state that it was our 'irreconcilable differences' that kept us from being together any longer.

EvieG has the Chicken Pox. But the events that have lead up to this situation spell out just how busy Moms can get when it comes to managing kids.

In the throes of yesterday's morning events, everyone was fine. EvieG got herself ready for school, Spark Plug was ready for pre-school, and The Destroyer was busy making a mess of the place. Everyone was in fine spirits. The Wee Ladies were dropped off at their respective places, and I went to the gym with The Destroyer. I got about 7 minutes into the class and was called out because The Destroyer had a 'little accident'. While she was destroying the day care, she fell and onto a sharp piece from the toy kitchen. The fall resulted in a cut under her eye with blood, and red swelling all around. She didn't need stitches or anything, but I took her home to be comfortable.

Later, I picked up EvieG at school and noticed some hive-like red spots on her neck/collarbone area. Also some on her face. I thought it was hives from the fresh local strawberries she had been inhaling for the past day. When we got home I gave her the once-over and realized that there were lots of spots. It had to be hives. It couldn't possibly be Chicken Pox. There was no fever, no prior symptoms! She complained they were itchy, so Hubby went out and bought Oatmeal stuff for the bath and anti-itch cream. I gave her Benadryl to help with the itch. She made it through the night ok. Hubby and I however had a case of the itchies. Like when you find out you have been around someone with head lice and all you want to do is scratch. That was us last night. Two scratching, paranoid losers, tossing and turning all night long.

After researching online for a while last night, I came to the conclusion that EvieG is indeed suffering from Chicken Pox. I am every doctor's nightmare. I over-read. I called the doctor this morning and they took her in. He confirmed my personal diagnosis (how annoying am I right now?). Super. She is still fine aside from the itchy spots. No cough, fever, or anything. I am so glad it is a mild case. So far.

We did not give her the Chicken Pox vaccination. She was born before it became a part of the vaccination schedule. Now it is the 15 month shot. Spark Plug has had the shot. The Destroyer has not because she is not 15 months old yet. So guess what we have to look forward to? Another visit from our friends. Fantastic. Poor kid already has a black eye from yesterday's meeting with a sharp edge, followed by a goose egg that she gave herself when she bumped into the wall last night. Now she will have to likely endure the frustration of little red blisters marking her little body.

At least this will be over in a couple of weeks. Then we won't have to worry about it anymore. I realize that not having the shot was a personal choice and that 2 of the Wee Ladies will live through some discomfort, but at least they are getting it now and not when they are older.

We will see what happens with Spark Plug. They say that even though she has had the vaccination, she can still receive a mild case of the Chicken Pox. If that happens then I will be severely pissed. What is the point of getting the shot if she can still get sick?

Wish me luck. I am going to do my best to make sure that the Chicken Pox and myself try to maintain a civil relationship during our two week contract. I just hope the Wee Ladies don't suffer too much.

All's I"m sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

I really want my Wee Ladies to learn the value of a dollar. I want them to be able to work for what they want. If they see something they like, I don't always want the, "Mom can I have that? Can I? Can I?" bit. Sure there are times when we parents want to buy our kids things, but I also want them to make and use their own money.

EvieG is almost 5. When we were at the store yesterday, she spotted and demanded the Princess Crayola Colour Wonder set selling for $10.00. I thought I would try something new. I was inspired to do this by friends of ours who have a son the same age as EvieG.

EvieG: Mom, can I have that colouring book there?

DDM: Well, I think that is a nice idea. How do you want to pay for that?

EvieG: I don't know.

DDM: Where can you get the money to buy it?

EvieG: (Pointing at me) You!

DDM: Ahhh, not this time. If you want it, you need to think of a way to pay for it. Where is your money?

EvieG: In my money bank.

DDM: That's right! Good for you. Mommy will buy it and when we get home, we can go up to your money bank and we will count out $10.00. Sound good?

EvieG: Ya! Ya!

We then proceeded with our shopping trip and during that time we discussed all the jobs she helps out with. Also, the jobs she can help out with. I explained that she can get some money for these jobs and then she can buy things that she wants! She liked the sound of that.

We did get home and the first thing she did was march upstairs and got her money bank. We counted out the money, she got her book, and immediately started colouring. She felt good. She felt accomplished.

We also put $ Bank on the calendar every Saturday. This is where we talk about all the things she did to help out and then she receives some cash to store. How much cash? A buck or two.

Now that she is expressing interest in buying and wanting certain things, I think it is appropriate that we come up with a plan. We will also be talking about how we can use our money to help others by raising money. I want her to consider the needs of others.

I also want her to think about how she can raise money for a cause. Whether it be a simple as a summer lemonade stand. It is important that they learn to problem solve and find a way to make their ambitions a reality. It teaches organizational and planning skills too. Keeping in mind that they need to express an interest in this stuff and that they are ready to explore the world of money making.

We will work hard to instill the importance of a value of a dollar. I don't want to have totally indulged Wee Ladies. They need to work for their own self-worth as well as work to help other causes.

All's I'm sayin's all.

What are your thoughts on giving allowance? I always love to hear what other Moms do.

Labels: Responsibility

Well, we did it. I stuck to it and hauled the Wee Ladies to the Zoo (Wal*Mart) and bought flowers for the garden. And I did it without my MIL. All by myself. Three Wee Ladies hanging off the cart, mixed together with flowers, new watering cans, and Press and Seal.

I just finished the planting. And here it is!! You can see the pot of flowers I referred to yesterday over on the step. And then take a look at the red Salvias and white Begonias(you know I wouldn't have known the names of the flowers if it weren't for the white plastic tags that come with them). EvieG picked them out. She wanted the front garden to look like Canada. They both can handle drought like conditions, so we are set for summer and the lack of water they will receive. EvieG watered them today as you can see on the stone. She also helped me plant.

I bought 2 flats of flowers and had a ton left over. So I put the rest in Mom's Garden out in the backyard. Spark Plug hasn't napped this afternoon, so she came out and tried to help too. I would place the flowers in the spot where I was going to plant them and she would run off with them and place them in her toy car. I don't know where she was taking them.

After planting 2 flats without gloves (I don't like gloves except winter ones and never understand how people wear rubber gloves to do dishes), I now have a blister forming on my green thumb that was painted with washable green marker. That is a good sign that I was somewhat productive today.

I feel better now. I did it. I still don't really enjoy it, but EvieG had fun. So that's what matters. I am happy I sucked it up and shared that planting experience with her.

Now I am going to wash off the green marker from my thumb, because an activity like that is not going to happen again for a looooong time. Oh, and I have to get the dirt out from under my nails.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, DDM, Fun, Guilt, Responsibility

I do not have a green thumb. It's been chopped off. There is nothing I loathe more than weeding gardens. Well, ironing is up there, but gardening is a pain in my a#$. Thank goodness Hubby likes to garden. If he didn't our house would look like an over grown atrocity- like those houses you pass by and think, 'Who lives there? The curtains are always closed, the grass is always long, and the hedges never trimmed. Maybe it's some crazy misfit.' I don't have to worry about our house being perceived that way because Hubby does a fine job keeping up with the plant life around here.

Nenny with Twins and I joked about our dislike for gardening. We don't do it well. We find it tedious and annoying. Plus, we can never keep the plants alive. We joked about the thought process prior to children. How would we keep a baby alive if we couldn't even keep our plants watered and thriving? It was a logical worry. But our kids are all growing like weeds. Nenny With Twins says that the only things she can keep alive in the plant world are weeds. Me too! Our kids will be just fine.

I would get an F for my gardening skills. I can plant things, but I cannot keep them thriving. I try and I do well for about a week and then I slack. Thank goodness EvieG can do some watering now. It can be her job. Great! Here's a quarter for your piggy bank!

I have a back garden and some plants in the house. I have to show you pictures so you can see exactly how poor my skills are.

Here is 'Mom's Garden' and yes, that it was it is called. Those aren't plants. Those are weeds. Last year it was just brown dirt for a while until Hubby couldn't take it anymore and he planted a cherry tomato plant that grew out of control. It spilled over onto the grass and we had squashed tomatoes everywhere. We had some great food for a while, but even better composted soil. The year before that, I planted marigolds because they are hardy and like the sun. So they could easily handle a lack of water.


Notice the wilting action on this lovely plant. I don't even know what it's called. I don't water it until I see wilting. That tells me it's time. I gave this to my Mom for Mother's Day a few years ago. She gave it to me to watch while she was in Florida for the winter. I did and it never went back to her house. It seems to be doing well here. Except for the times when it is screaming at me to get my s*#t together to come and save its life.

These are the only other plants in the entire house. And 2 came from my MIL. The one on the left is an Amaryllis that we were to take care of when she went away. It hasn't returned to her house yet. It probably should. Especially after I learned that it was her father's who passed away a few years ago. That means it has been around for a) a long time, and b) I definitely don't want to be responsible for its demise. I would feel forever guilty then. The plant in the middle is also from my MIL. It is an oregano plant. She has tons and needed to spread the herby love. The third is a desert plant. Hubby bought it because he knew that it would be the only one I could take care of because it needs watering, like, never. Once a month. Maybe.

My MIL loves to garden. She came over and planted a whack of geraniums. She also took me out and bought a pot for the front step, some soil, and we picked out a hanging potted plant to put in it. A variety of colour and flowers and our house now looks like it has some life to it! Yay for my MIL! Hey, if she wants to help us out with some planting, then by all means, go nuts. It saves me from becoming a crusty biotch who gripes under her breath as she throws the dirt and weeds around. And then kicks the dirt. Far.

I thought today that it would be nice to plant some flowers in our front garden. It needs some colour. It would be something nice and productive to do with EvieG and Spark Plug. But that means I have to haul them all to the garden centre, which is a kid's paradise. I remember running through the impatiens and pansies when I was a kid. We could pick out something nice, but not anything that needs to be dead-headed every night after dinner. Just something to add some more life to the front. Something the kids could water. Because we all know it ain't gonna happen if I'm in charge. Hubby will laugh at this idea. But it can work!

I'd better call my MIL. She will have to come and help me. She will help me get this plan executed and completed. I'll borrow her green thumb. And maybe paint my thumbnail green with washable marker for the day.

I'd better add it to my To Do List for this week.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, DDM, Fun

Here is an article that was sent to me. It is about pre-pubescent girls being salonized. Because their mothers want them to be. There is no data reported and it seems to be more of an opinion piece. Nonetheless, I have to say it is a bit shocking to think that this is happening to such an extreme. Take it how you will and some of the posted comments are interesting to read too.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI