I always wondered what it would be like if we had to get the kids out of bed in the middle of the night. Sometimes I plan for various scenarios, like fire escape routes and hospital emergencies. I feel that it is always good to be somewhat prepared for things, even though you never know how you will react until you are in it.

Labels: Hubby

It was Hubby's birthday. He turned 35. Auntie Lisa and her fiance Paul came to visit and we had a fine time Saturday evening, Hubby especially.

Labels: Hubby

I can't sew to save my life. It is beyond terrible. It is so bad, I will tell you exactly how pathetic it is.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Hubby, Mission

As I was at the sink washing up the dishes this afternoon, Hubby was on our back patio with the Wee Ladies. I had just put some toys back in the toy chest. With my back to the action, I heard:

Labels: DDM, Hubby, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

I wrote about how annoyed I get when I discover a lost item at the time I need it most. Last weekend we lost one of The Destroyer's Sorels and didn't realize it until we went to put the boots on to go out. I thought we would have to buy another pair, putting us out about $30, but we don't need to! We found the missing boot! And it wasn't in my underwear basket!

Labels: Hubby, The Destroyer

Doing anything that includes hauling the Wee Ladies around is always a chore. There's buckling, unbuckling, keeping together, keeping hands off merchandise, and it all takes forever. It is Hubby's birthday today and we had a list a mile long to get done in order to surprise him at work. Throw a missing Doggy into the mix and we have automatic panic and chaos.

I got the Wee Ladies winter-dressed. I loaded them into the van. We proceeded to make a stop to get him new ski gloves. I only said, "Stay with Mom," a few hundred times as they ran around in and out of the Burton gear. The only mark we left were some fingerprints on the change room mirror. I threw them back into the van and headed for some caffeine relief. Oh, and some Timbits. I know. I caved.

We continued to the balloon shop where we had a balloon bouquet made for Hubby. Upon our arrival The Destroyer leaned over and pressed the button to open the door on her side of the van. I quickly pressed it again from the other side of the van and pulled her out. We went into get the balloons and during our short, but chaotic stay, EvieG learned not to try and blow up balloons we hadn't ordered. So a balloon covered with 5 year old cooties was purchased using money from her money bank. The Destroyer tried to play with balloon sculptures that were waiting to be picked up. Wouldn't that have been fun if she had popped one of those?

I placed the order and returned them all to the van so I could pay up and easily carry out the balloons without my entourage.

We made one other stop before heading home for a snack.

When we arrived home, I was unloading the Wee Ladies and noticed something potentially disastrous. The Destroyer's stuffed Doggy, which is her version of a security blanket was not in the van. I know she had taken it with her. I know I remember seeing her cuddling it. Where did it go? I searched the van high and low. Under the seats in the Timbit box. No Doggy.

This was bad. So bad because I have no back up in case it should get lost. EvieG has Lovesy, one of those Ty Pluffies that she can't live without. She sticks her finger through the tag and sucks her thumb as she is falling asleep.
I bought 3 extras on eBay to keep just in case we lost them. And she has lost it once, so we are on number 2.

Spark Plug has a chenille blanket she got from a good friend of mine when she was a baby. It comes from Toy R Us and she lives for this thing. She calls it her Kiki (pronounced kee kee). I made a special trip to Toys R Us to buy back up. I have 2 others. She sleeps with 2 and there is one still in the package. So if she ever loses the original, she has another already worked in. I have it all figured out.

But leave it to The Destroyer to have a dog with long legs and arms and a big, blue bow that she can't sleep without. There is no duplicate for this thing. And Doggy was confirmed to be officially lost. Crap.

So I hurried them to finish their snacks and then piled them all into the van. Again. We drove like mad back to the balloon store. As I was pulling into my original parking spot, EvieG and I both spotted Doggy. Along with her hat. EvieG shouted, "Look! There's Doggy in the snow bank! And her hat! It didn't get stolen!"

You can imagine the feeling of relief that came over me.

I was seriously panicked over this. I didn't want The Destroyer to lose her true love. That would be a horrible loss for us all. Not only would she be devastated, but we would have to suffer her wrath. The screaming and stomping and crying would have been hard to deal with and no doubt would have led to more Timbits.

I had already had a Plan B ready to execute if Doggy wasn't in the dirty brown, salt saturated snow. I was going to run to every store within a one block radius and ask store employees if anyone had been kind enough to bring a stuffed dog into their place of business. The whole town would for sure know me by then end of this caper. Thank goodness it didn't get to that.

I gave Doggy back to The Destroyer. She squealed with excitement and gave her a tight hug. I felt like a true hero. And then she looked at me and held Doggy out towards me and said, "Yuck, foot!"

You're kidding me. I just swooped in to save the day like a grand super human with x-ray vision and the thanks I get is a complaint that Doggy's feet are wet and dirty?

I turned around with my knuckles clenched around the steering wheel and stared out in front of me. I put it in reverse and drove away in silence. No appreciation. And there will be worse eventually. I will have sat in front of the computer or on hold trying to get tickets to the coolest concert ever and I will end up with amazing seats, to which they will say, "You couldn't get us any closer?" And then I will say, "Well, if that isn't good enough for you, I will go with Auntie Lisa, Auntie Missy, and Nenny with Twins. Oh, and I will be sure to tell you all about our VIP access after we get home."

Carrying on to Hubby's office with balloons, cupcakes, and a gift, I rallied the Wee Ladies together as we headed into his building. A lovely lady on the street helped me keep them all together. We went in to surprise Hubby. We were on-the-edge-of-our-seats-excited only to be told that he was not there.

What?What?What?

I told him this morning that he needed to be at the office over lunch and that I would bring his suit jacket to him!

I even called his boss two days ago to get permission to bring my entourage to the office!

He forgot and ended up having a meeting out of the office.

We waited for a while and one of his colleagues graciously helped keep the Wee Ladies contained in one area. She gave them paper, markers, and even helped EvieG blow her nose. Amazing.

We waited and waited some more. We left the gifts and went home.

After all that work and drama, it ends like this?

Yes, it ends just like that. In complete and utter disappointment.

It is now time to make and eat cake.

Happy birthday, Hubby! We love you even though you pulled a guy move and only listened to part of what I said! I know 'something came up' and you had a meeting and that's okay! We will forgive you! Over some double chocolate cake.

Don't forget EvieG wants a cupcake!

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a fun weekend! Thanks for reading!

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Drama, EvieG, Hubby, Nenny with Twins, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

As I complete my jobs as CEO of damage control I realize that our house and the Wee Ladies have a serious case of the blimey grimies. Everywhere I turn there are stickies, gloppies, and greasies. Oh, the squalor.

The kitchen table and chairs are disgusting. The chairs stick together and to the floor. The backs of the chairs have little hand prints of honey. The yogurt is dried on and under the table, like a wad of gum. Somehow the grimies get on the legs of the chairs too.

The fridge handle, the drawers, and all doorknobs have been covered by banana hands. The light switches in all rooms, the jacuzzi tub dial included, feel like they have been wiped down in pudding.

Cheerios and dried Corn Flakes make trails through the dining area and kitchen. I find Cheerios under the pillows and stuck in the couch. Today I found a chunk of chocolate chip cookie under the computer desk and bits of Red River cereal behind the toilet.

I blamed the dirty toilet seat on Hubby, but he was having none of it. He is adamant that the seat is not because of him, but rather a recently potty-trained Spark Plug.

The blimey grimies are annoying, yet amazing. It astonishes me how much grime there is in one house. The Wee Ladies take it everywhere. They carry it on themselves too. I have often referred to taking them out in public with breakfast face. I have admittedly wiped them off with my thumb and saliva. Gross, I know, but a good way to get rid of the grimies.

They sometimes walk around all afternoon with yogurt face, or as Nenny with Twins says, banana face. At first the banana is hardly noticeable, but after a while of being exposed to the dust filled air, the banana browns. If you go out in public, you for sure have to resort to the thumb-lick and wipe.

There are times when we haven't had to go out anywhere and I have made the call to put them to bed without a bath, leaving clumped yogurt chunks in their hair. I promise myself to deal with it tomorrow.

So I admit I am partially responsible for the blimey grimy that exists in my house. Sure. But now that I am CEO of damage control, I always get rid of it, even if it takes a week to get to.

Hubby contributes to the grimy in his own way, exempt from the toilet. When he thinks the Wee Ladies need a good moisturizing he puts them in a bath of baby oil. This is his way of being efficient. And for the next 2 days, or until they have another bath free of baby oil, they wander around with grease-head. Slicked hair, like the kid in class who never bathed.

The mother-of-the-year award certainly gets placed around my neck as I take the Wee Ladies out in public with breakfast face, hands covered in dried banana, and slicked hair that no one knows is baby oil. A vision of attentive parenting.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Hubby, Nenny with Twins

Oh, the drama. The drama of our final week in this house. Christmas was fun and went off without a hitch, other than two of the three Wee Ladies getting sick. We got the tree down and out of the house on Boxing Day, the decorations put away. We are packing and moving furniture. And then the big bang came.

Last night, after Hubby came home with The Destroyer from an unsuccessful visit to our local hospital, we were working in the office. All of a sudden, a BANG! came from outside the front of our house. We ran to the living room window and looked out. I have never seen anything like it in real life; only in Made for TV movies. There was a minivan on our front lawn. And it t-boned Hubby's pick up truck, which in turn hit our van. And it was still running, the accelerator still down. ALL OF THIS ON OUR FRONT LAWN! I called 911 and we ran out to see if there was anyone inside. Sure enough, there was a guy in the driver's seat. And he was having a seizure.

I was on the phone with 911 giving them all of the details and Hubby came to the rescue. His van was locked, so Hubby took an ax and smashed the back window, climbed in and helped the guy through his seizure. He also talked with paramedics while they were en route to our house. Hubby kept the guy comfortable and calm. The guy could understand Hubby, but Hubby couldn't understand him. All he could get were the words, seizure and epilepsy. The paramedics showed up and took over. I am proud of Hubby for his brave and calm reaction. He just knew what to do. He is certainly a good Samaritan.

There were cops, firefighters, neighbours, passersby, lights, and two schmucked vehicles at our house. Oh, and the maple tree was run over as he drove by our front window.

The driver is okay. He had gone into a seizure driving westbound. We live on the south side of our street. He crossed the oncoming lane two doors down, came over the curb and sidewalk, skimmed our neighbours' two vehicles, caught some air over their rock garden, came across their lawn and ours at full speed, and was stopped by Hubby's truck.

Our van got hit on the back of the driver's side and the tail light was smashed. It totally looks like I don't know how to drive. I am going to be on the road and stopped at a light and I am going to get the stink-eye from all the other drivers around me. My fellow drivers are going to think I suck at driving and that I don't know how to back up properly. They are all going to think I hit things. And that I can't afford to get it fixed. I am going to own the road because everyone is going to avoid me. And I have to drive around like this for a few weeks because the van isn't going to be fixed until we are all moved. It might be a good thing- owning the road.

I am glad everyone is fine. I am glad no one else was hurt. I am glad that there was no one in the oncoming lane or walking on the sidewalk. I am glad my neighbour wasn't out taking down her Christmas lights, as she was about to do before the drama began.

It made me think about how fleeting and how quickly things happen. It made me think about the importance of always watching what is going on around me and paying attention to who is around me.

Now we are dealing with the insurance company, which has gone smoothly. We had furniture picked up today. We have a sick baby.

I took The Destroyer to the doctor today. She has had a fever on and off again since Christmas Eve. She has not been eating like she usually does, like a Hoover vacuum. She woke up with a dry diaper this morning. She is not herself, but not totally lethargic either. She is wheezing and coughing. The doctor ordered a chest x-ray today. I went to the hospital and we belted her into the x-ray chamber for babies. She freaked out. We waited for the results and sure enough she has a little bit of pneumonia. Great. So medication begins for her. And I smell from my sweating as I chased her around Digital Imaging for an hour.

Hubby and I both had premonitions about this drama. I had a thought yesterday about an accident occurring on our front lawn and didn't know where it came from-totally random. Hubby had a dream 2 nights ago about breaking into a car from the back and rescuing someone in the driver's seat. He told me about it the next morning. How-weird-is-that?

For someone who hates drama, why does it find its way into my life at the busiest time?

I know why. So I can blog about it.

We move in less than a week. There is nothing like going out with a bang. It certainly makes for a good story.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Drama, Hubby

As I was packing up cookbooks in the kitchen:

DDM: (packing a box) What do we have for dinner tonight?

Hubby: I don't know. (opens fridge) Oh, there are sausages in there.

DDM: (closing box, grabbing marker to label) Oh yeah, that's right. I thought about that and then I forgot. Sausages...okay. Great.

Hubby: So...you really want some of my sausage, do you (laughing)?

DDM: (labeling while clearly getting distracted by this silly humour of Hubby's) Nice. You are hilarious. You are so predictable.

Hubby: I know you want my sausage.

DDM: (pausing and looking at the labeled box and start guffawing) Come here and look at this. Check out what I wrote on the box. It was supposed to say Kitchen Cookbooks. But I wrote Sausage Cookbooks! Look at what you made me do!

Hubby: (laughing just as hard) I guess I know what's on your mind!

DDM: I guess a box full of sausage cookbooks means we have a whole lot of ways to cook up sausage. It's always good to have some variety.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS There are some more reviews up in the DDM's Try Ons section. Feel free to take a peek.

PPS I will post tomorrow, but will be offline from Christmas Day until Monday, the 29th.

Labels: DDM, Fun, Hubby

There is officially a SOLD sign at the the front of our house. We signed on the dotted line Friday evening. We are excited about this new adventure we are about to embark on. But with all of this excitement comes a lot of hard work. We have to sort, pitch, and pack. Deciding what to part with is very difficult and will no doubt test the bonds of marriage.

Hubby and I started sorting, pitching, and packing the kitchen over the weekend. And we experienced a lovers quarrel. Now this wasn't a fight. There was no shouting or throwing of Denby dishes in the discontinued Energy pattern. There was a disagreement of sorts. A debate. And I lost. But not really. I have plans. Hubby thinks he has had the last word with this one.

We argued over whether or not to keep the Tupperware that I have known and lived with my entire life. The same Tupperware containers I grew up with and then stole/borrowed/took from my mom. This is good quality stuff. It never dies. It lives on forever. And this was Hubby's point. To him, it is scary that it looks like brand new after so many decades.

I had to drop EvieG off at a birthday party. Upon my return home, I noticed Hubby had already sorted, pitched, and packed some of the storage container cupboard. I pulled the old, "There's nothing left! You got rid of.....lots of.....well, everything!" This was a slight over-exaggeration.

He then said all smug like, "Do you even know what is missing? Do you even realize what I pitched?"

I stared into the cupboard. And then I looked at him with wide, sad eyes. A tear may have even welled, or a piece of dust got stuck under my lid.

I gasped in horror. I said, "How could you assume I don't know what you tossed? Tell me you didn't. Please. Tell me your heart isn't that empty. That you found it inside yourself to go ahead, without my consent, and pitch the good stuff. The classic, decent, hearty, no-fail, lifetime warrantied Tupperware! I am hurt. Give me a minute to digest this- I have had that stuff in my family forever! We have used that stuff lots! It is great stuff and really expensive to replace! I want it back! And to answer your question, yes! Yes! I know what you stole from me! First, the green lettuce container.

And-just a second, let me look- oh, and the orange container is missing!"


He was looking at me with a look of impatience and tilted his head like he wanted me to get out of the way because I was wasting good, solid packing time with this folly.

He shot back with, "We are not taking it. You know why it is so intact after all these years? Because it probably has all the bad chemicals in it that we are not supposed to be ingesting or exposing our children to! We don't need it anymore! It scares me how old and.....how old it is!"

I couldn't move. I sat on the floor in front of an empty cupboard staring at him and waiting. Waiting for him to march out into the garage to rescue and return my Tupperware containers.

He didn't move either. He stood his ground.

I kept mumbling to myself under my breath, trying to cope with this loss.

I had a plan. A plan he still does not know about. I am going to be all stealth and go into the bags and take back what he stole from me. I am going to rescue my Tupperware. I am going to pack them and take them with us to our new house.

One day, he will open the cupboard to get a container for his leftovers and see them sitting in there, all shiny and glimmering at him as if to say, "Ha, ha, Buddy. We're still here!"

He will get mad and then say, "What? What the heck is this?"

And I will retort with, "Well, I knew we would use it! It is saving us money so we don't have to go and buy more storage containers. And I thought that container there beside the orange one would be beneficial to our Tupperware collection. We can take it on picnics and to BBQ's! My mom said we could have it!"

He will close the cupboard and walk away. And eventually he will realize everyone needs to have one.

Everyone needs to have a Tupperware condiment container.


All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Today is an exciting day! My first article is posted at Scarlett Lounge, a great Canadian bargain hunting site! Click at the top of this page to go and check it out!

Labels: Battle, DDM, Hubby

We had a family movie night last night. The Wee Ladies had popcorn and sippy cups of water. Hubby and I had beer. Hubby chose the movie. He has also chosen the next family movie night flick for this weekend. I have to say that I am gobsmackingly impressed.

Hubby: Hey. I have the next 2 movies for family movie night.

DDM: Oh ya? Great! What did you pick? (thinking Disney cartoon or computer animated film of some sort)

Hubby: Tonight we are going to watch The Sound of Music. And this weekend we have none other than Mary Poppins.

DDM: (shock rings through my voice) You are sure you want to sit and watch musicals starring Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, and Dick Van Dyke? The whole way through?

Hubby: Yep. My girls will love it and I want them to enjoy it.

DDM: (to myself) Holy man! A straight guy who voluntarily wants to watch musicals. That is love.

Silence.

Hubby: What was that noise?

DDM: That was just my jaw hitting the floor.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a fab weekend! I will return on Monday with more from this zoo.

PPS I have some fun news to share with everyone on Monday! Be sure to come back then and check out the new announcement!

Labels: DDM, Family, Fun, Hubby

Hubby was laughing out loud at the TV last night. He was watching a Just For Laughs show on The Comedy Channel. I went in to see what was so funny. I missed the comic, but Hubby paraphrased on his behalf. And now I will paraphrase a second time.

It was all about the true colours of your loved ones as they emerge during sleep. This comic said that if you want to know whether you can sustain a good, solid relationship, make sure you sleep in the same bed first. And in this case it is not for the you-know-what. It is to really see what kind of person your future partner will be- in a sleeping state. Because no one cares or is conscious of what they look like while they are sleeping. You are who you truly are. He went on to say that he knew he could be with his wife forever because during their sleepovers, she was an angel when she fell asleep; so calm, beautiful, and peaceful. But in the middle of the night when she was in the middle of her REM cycle she became a walrus. Her mouth would hang open and she would snore. Loudly. He found it in himself to look beyond the walrus. He probably just dabbed the drool from the side of her mouth and rolled her over so she could sleep soundly and not in a pool of her own saliva.

In our house, Hubby has looked beyond my dorky sleeping habits as well. We are in it for the long haul. Apparently I do 'the chicken dance' in my sleep. This is where I put my hand on my head while I am sleeping on my side. And it looks like a chicken wing. I have no idea why I do this, but I guess it's comfortable. I also do the walrus sometimes and when I was pregnant, I was a VIA locomotive. And look- we are still strongly intact.

Hubby has the heat barrier. He likes the sheets cold. He coffins himself between 3 pillows. He has a pillow barricade around him, protecting him from the loving warmth of his wife, and also from her unshaven legs. He has been like this since we met. Even before we had our first sleepover. He rolls from one cold pillow to the other. The bottom line here is a) it isn't an issue, and b) there is never any cuddling action. Ever. That would make the human furnace overheat. We wouldn't want that.

Even the Wee Ladies sleep in funny positions. Both The Destroyer and Spark Plug sleep with their bottoms up. Their faces are planted into their pillows and their bums stick straight up. How this can be remotely comfortable is beyond me.

EvieG is a walrus too and sleeps on her back. She sleeps so still that her hair is one big frizzball every morning. She sleeps with her stuffed animals piled underneath her. I also can't figure out how this is very cozy.

The Wee Ladies always manage to sleep in weird places within their beds. At the bottom of the bed, across the top, on top of the covers, and even on the floor sometimes. I went into EvieG's room over the weekend and found that she had set up camp in her closet. She had her pillow and The Destroyer's quilt, and her books. She said it was her camp out. The Destroyer was missing her blanket, but that didn't seem to matter because we didn't hear a sound from her. Both The Destroyer and Spark Plug seem to sleep without blankets quite often. Sometimes they cry out when they get cold. I don't know how they can sleep for so long without covers!

I am not a fan of sleepovers with the Wee Ladies because of their positioning. They kick, poke, and jab. Like the BAM! and ZONK! and POW! from Batman and Robin, you can see me cringe and clench as I receive each blow throughout the night. But I still do it. And I still love them, even though they hurt me. In the kidney.

Watching them sleep in the car is hilarious. They look like they have had one too many cocktails as their heads swing from side to side, their mouths hang open, and you can see the drool dripping from their chins onto their coats. They even snore.

If this is indeed a look into the true colours of your loved ones, then this is what I see in the future for The Wee Ladies- a girl with one hand on her head, elbow pointing into the air, pillows all around her, blankets on the floor, drool collecting on the mattress, as she kicks her legs while grunting just like our Wee Westie Basil.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Family, Fun, Hubby

Last night....

EvieG: We are going to do everything together. We are going to eat together, play together, sing together, run and jump together, sleep together....

DDM: Who, you and Spark Plug?

EvieG: No! Me and Frank.

DDM: Who's Frank?

EvieG: My balloon!

DDM: Right, your balloon. That's great, honey! I hope you have fun.

EvieG: I am going to go and tuck him in. I am going to take care of him. Forever.

DDM: Thinking to myself....Until it deflates. Then it will be an emotional blitz as she mourns the loss of her new soul mate.

Hubby: EvieG is really embracing Spark Plug, eh?

DDM: No, she wasn't talking about her sister. She was referring to devoting her life to her new best friend, Frank.

Hubby: Who's Frank?

DDM: Her balloon. She is tucking him into her bed right now.

Hubby: Oh. I was hoping we didn't have to worry about that for a while.... You know, she is going to be the girl who wants to rescue and take care of everybody. She is going to be the girl who brings home the losers who 'are having a rough time right now.' Spark Plug is going to pull the heartstrings of all the guys and then dump them on their asses. I hope The Destroyer likes girls.

EvieG: Shhhh! Frank is asleep. He's tired and I had to put him to bed.

Around 4:00 am, EvieG comes down to our bedroom....

EvieG: I lost Frank! He's gone! I can't find him!

DDM: It won't be the last time, honey. Go back to sleep.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Hubby

Not too long ago, I wrote about our Sport Rack on top of the van. We used this to travel north in August and for some reason after we returned home, it managed to become a permanent fixture up there. People could spot our van among the millions of others. Now we have chameleoned back into a regular van. We blend in. We are back to boring. All because Hubby finally took the Sport Rack off.

I am so proud that he got this job done.

There is nothing like the sight of a hot man and his drill.

It only took 2 months. That is not too bad.

People were getting used to seeing the Sport Rack in all its glory up there. And then one day, one of EvieG's friends saw the van drive by. His mom told him that we had just gone by. He refused to believe it. He said, "No that's not them mommy! That van didn't have that thing on the top! That was someone else!"

Now we have to clear out the squalor that is our garage so we can get the van in. The cold weather is here and it is easier if I don't have to scrape the windshield while trying to mind the Wee Ladies. Although they love watching the scraper clear their windows off. Just like they love watching the windows get sprayed with the psychedelic soaps at the drive-thru car wash and then rinsed off. It is a real trip. A guaranteed few moments of silence. I highly recommend that trip if you are having a bad day with the kids.

At least I didn't get too used to having the Sport Rack on top of the van. If it had really become a permanent fixture, I would have lost it while trying to drive the van into the garage.

It is definitely not the same damage as running into a curb.

Or leaving your coffee on top of the van, only to drive away with it still there.

And then having to take the kids to the drive-thru car wash. Again.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family, Fun, Hubby

When Hubby took EvieG out to the pet store to replace our Betta fish, Goldie, they were gone an awfully long time. They said they were heading to the pet store and then to the grocery store to pick up bananas. An hour and a half later, I thought they were bringing the menagerie home for sure.

As I anxiously awaited the new addition to our house, I put the younger Wee Ladies down for a nap, blogged, and then surfed celebrity gossip sites. What were they going to bring home? You never know when you send Hubby out on a mission.

The door finally opened. EvieG barreled in empty-handed. Hubby followed with several bags from Home Depot. No fish, no bananas, but a whole lot of bathroom accessories.

It was just like when I send him to the grocery store. He ends up bringing home a bunch of stuff not even remotely close to what was on the list. He'll bring home things like wasabi and Parmesan cheese.

I asked EvieG where the fish was. She matter-of-factly stated that they had decided to wait.

Hmmm. Wait for what? Was this Hubby's way of ending the fish saga? For good?

Nope.

Hubby then piped up and said that they thought it might be a good idea to ask Santa for an aquarium.

What the?

An aquarium. A big glass box filled with water, heaters, pebbles, fake plants, a backdrop displaying a lovely freshwater aquatic scene, algae eaters, and perhaps the odd guppy.

At this point I could see the expenses rising and rising some more.

And then I envisioned myself up to my armpits in sludge as I slaved to keep the box clean and the fish alive. I had a hard enough time keeping one Betta fish going. Having an aquarium is one big, constant trip to the pet store to replace fallen guppies or angel fish. The only ones that ever seem to survive are the algae eaters and the Neons.

Where did they decide this aquarium would be situated? They did agree that EvieG's dresser would be a good spot. Obviously forgetting that The Destroyer climbs onto the dresser from her crib now. We have had to move the crib into the middle of the floor because she climbs onto and grabs anything she can.

There is no way. It is not going to happen. No aquariums allowed. This mom is putting her foot down. I do so knowing I would be the one pretty much responsible for its upkeep.

Santa will just have to send a brand new Betta tank and fish. He will have to chince out a little bit like he did the year I asked for a human size, wooden, accessorized doll house and ended up with the small, plastic retro one from Consumer's Distributing.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, EvieG, Family, Hubby, The Destroyer

Hubby is on his way to the pet store with EvieG on a quest to replace Goldie. One would obviously think Goldie was a goldfish but this is not the case with our Goldie. Goldie was a bright blue Betta fish. Also known as a Siamese fighting fish.

He had a pretty little tank to himself. Because they can only live alone. They would kill anything else that invaded their space. EvieG fed him some days when I would remind her. Otherwise he was just another fixture in our upstairs bathroom, like the toothbrushes, hair clips, and towel rack.

When Hubby and I departed on Friday, I noticed that Goldie was swimming on his side. I knew he was coming to the end. I put some more food into his tank and ordered him to enjoy his last supper. I had a feeling my MIL would spot him floating, or laying on the bottom. But instead, we got home and Hubby found him. And he hadn't even enjoyed his last meal. It was still floating on the surface. He flushed him and cleaned the water in his tank. And moved stuff around in what I perceived to be an attempt to hide the fact that Goldie was missing. Arguably, he could have told EvieG that Goldie was playing a good old fashioned game of hide and go seek with her. And avoid the whole death thing. To which she would say, "But Daddy, where is he? I can't see him!" And then what? She would be mortified and scarred for the rest of her life. The demise of her first pet.

I told Hubby that EvieG needed to mourn the loss of Goldie properly.

What next? How does one go about breaking such news to an emotional, sensitive, 5 year old girl?

By simply stating, "EvieG. When Mommy and Daddy were away, Goldie took a trip to heav-."

I couldn't even get the sentence out before she bolted from the bathroom and down the hall, through our bedroom, and into the ensuite, where she curled herself up in the corner, bawling. Crap.

Spark Plug and The Destroyer didn't even realize we had a fish, even though they looked at him several times a day. And occasionally stuck their hands in the tank.

I took her into our bed and discussed the new home for Goldie. I told her that he is playing with all the other fishes and that he is much happier now that he has more friends to play with.

She asked me who came to take him to heaven.

I stared at her blankly. In my head I was picturing all these little Betta fish swimming in the big pond of heaven, frolicking about, laughing, all with the big Pearly gates behind them. And then thought that realistically they would all be playing a great game Russian Roulette in an attempt to win and become the sole inhabitant of Heaven's Great Lake.

I then pushed that thought out and envisioned cherubs, floral headpieces, and chubby legs.

I replied with, "The cute little angels."

Crap. What am I getting myself into?

She then asked, "Did they come into the house at night and carry him away? Did Grandma hear them come into the house in the night?"

I told her no and that it is kind of like when Santa comes in. It is magic. And I felt myself getting deeper and deeper into this religious/philosophical/fictional/exaggerated story as I tried to make it comprehensible for her.

Hubby then came to change the subject and encouraged her to start thinking about what else we could get to replace Goldie. We heard everything from lizards to spiders to mice to rabbits to another fish that would all take shelter in the bathroom. Where Goldie used to live.

If she had her way, I would become the keeper of the real life menagerie. Never mind the glass one. And then be up to my neck in animal dung.

We left her by asking her to take some time to think about what to get next. If that is what she wanted to do.

And then I forgot to remove the tank from the bathroom last night.

First thing this morning, EvieG was brushing her teeth and her eyes welled up. Crap, again. She asked to go to the pet store to get another fish today. All I said was sure. Here we go again. Round three. For us. Round two for her.

She doesn't know that the first Goldie kicked the bucket and was secretly replaced once before.

I know I am going to be struck by lightning soon.

Maybe this time she will get a bright red Betta fish and name him Noir.

All's I'm sayins all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Family, Guilt, Hubby

Today Hubby and I are going away for a night without kids.

We celebrated our 7th anniversary this past Monday. So our parents have agreed to watch the Wee Ladies for a night while we spend some time together.

Thanks to my mom and MIL!

I will be posting over the weekend to make up for today's lack of a proper post. Promise.

You can bet your Minty Chocolate Girl Guide cookies that we will make it longer than Madonna and Guy Ritchie.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Hubby

I come from a long line of back-scratch addicts. My dad was one, his dad, and I am guessing many ancestors before them. My baby brother and I have inherited this gene and if we had it our way, we would have our backs scratched every night until we fell asleep. Now I am lucky if Hubby scratches my back for 30 seconds. It just doesn't happen. I am happy to report that I regularly receive back scratches again. By the Wee Ladies.

Before the marriage contract was signed, I used to get back scratches all the time. It was like this was Hubby's way of reeling me in. Some people put-out to reel their partner in. I got back scratches and I was hooked. I always said I would marry the guy who could give me scratches until I fell asleep. Some people look for the guy who puts his jacket over a puddle, or who says 'Bless you,' when you sneeze, like Bridget Fonda's character in the 1992 film, Singles. There was one night when Hubby did give me back scratches until I fell asleep. That is when I knew he was the one. Then we signed. And it never happened again.

I had to be resourceful. I love scratches every now and then. Then there was the moment of realization. The moment during TV one night when I realized that I have 3 back-scratchers. 2 of whom can do the job. 1 who is especially good. And gullible.

EvieG has also inherited the back-scratch gene. She loves scratches. And EvieG willingly gives me scratches. She gets tired quickly though. She is only 5. So now we take turns.

Sometimes though her time limit is not enough for me. So I have turned it into a game. That game every girl used to play at slumber party with her friends. And if you say you didn't play this game, you're lying. The game where you draw on each other's backs and try and figure out the word, letter, number, or picture. This is a fail safe way to get scratches. EvieG's repertoire of words is very slim. So she spells out the usual-her name, her sister's names, mommy, daddy, cat- you know, all the basics. Sometimes I pretend I don't know what she has spelled. And she has to repeat her writing.

Yesterday she made up a pattern for the game. She gets 2 turns and I get two turns. So at first I started with both Spark Plug and EvieG giving me scratches and it then moved into the Guess-What-I'm-Spelling game. It was awesome. And I kept pretending I didn't know what she was spelling, and she kept up with the scratches.

Do I feel guilty for my dishonesty? My selfish desires? No.

It is extra phonics and spelling practice.

We love our cuddle time where she gets plenty-o'-scratches. On her back, her legs, her arms, her hands, her hair, and her favourite, her tummy. It relaxes her. And she gives me great back scratches. There are just some days when I'd like some more. So what's wrong with being creative and finding other methods for this relaxation?

You can turn anything into a game with kids. And they are none the wiser. I've got them so snowed.

I just have to get Hubby on the bandwagon to give me scratches all the time again. But for some reason I think he has other ideas for what satisfaction, relaxation, and fun games should be. He thinks that he and I should be doing something else besides giving back scratches.

I say that was something that was also cast aside after the contract was signed.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Fun, Guilt, Hubby, Spark Plug

The Destroyer is exactly like that kid Justin in the 1989 movie Parenthood, starring Steve Martin. She does things that kid would do. And we let her do it all. And we laugh the whole time. We like to see what she is going to try next and watch her follow through until she falls or decides that it was a silly idea in the first place.

Last night she took the little pail from the bedroom and put it on her head. I was sitting at the opposite end of the hall watching her stumble towards me like a drunken kid performing some stupid stunt. It was like I was watching Parenthood when Justin the toddler ran around with the bucket on his head repeatedly banging himself into the wall. Similar to this, The Destroyer walked right by me and swerved towards our bed. I was giggling as she banged head first into the bed. Not hard, but enough to send her back onto her backside. I was dying laughing. Hey, she has to learn that without eyes, she will eventually hit something. And live and learn, she did. She was mad. Mad that it didn't end the way she thought it would.

She likes Hubby to spin her around. And then she really likes the after buzz. She wanders around the backyard, again, like a drunken teenager looking for a place to pee and pass out. She giggles at the dizzy sensation, falls and tries to get up, and then goes back to Hubby for more. In the end she could keep going and Hubby feels nauseous from all the turning.

Today I caught her sucking the pom poms off of EvieG's art work. She was sucking the glue off. She is going to be like that kid in my Grade 2 class who sat beside me and told me to look at him. When I turned my head, all I remember seeing is him putting a huge glob of white glue on his tongue and eating it. It was so gross. Well, that is my daughter. Not to that extreme, but she was using her index finger to swipe the wet glue off the page to eat.

She is like a mild, younger version of Johnny Knoxville. Everyday she pulls another prank. She is daring, brave, and curious. She likes getting a rise out of people. She likes to be the center of attention. Like a jester.

From swinging on the BBQ to hanging from the banister to running into the kitchen cupboards with a debit card in her mouth, I know we are going to have to continue to keep an eye on her. Because she is going to be the kid who accepts all the dares. Willingly.

I just hope she doesn't get her kicks out of attempting crazy stunts that will hurt her and give her parents a heart attack in the process.

Give her time. I am sure she will pull some real doozies. She will probably be a regular on YouTube.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS The underlined words are are some funny clips for you to watch.

Labels: Hubby, The Destroyer

We had a fantastic weekend away at my brother Paul's wedding, after escaping the crazy that was our Friday (see post below). He married a great girl named Nancy. We call them Uncle Paul and Aunt Nancy. How original, I know. Everything worked out well and EvieG was super cute as a flower girl. Spark Plug and The Destroyer stayed at home with my MIL which we are thankful for, otherwise it would have been chaos. Hubby had a great time with the boys and I with the girls. We got all gussied up.
There was quite a crowd. My brother lives and works in the financial industry in Toronto. There were a few people from that world there. He also has a deep relationship with our rural roots. Those from our hometown area represented the guest list well. Aunt Nancy is from the area we grew up in. They are often back north visiting and playing.

To put it bluntly- the parking lot occupied everything from Range Rovers, Porsche, Mercedes, Lexus, and BMW to every kind of Ford, GMC, and Dodge pick up truck ranging from 2 doors to 4 doors. We were part of the pick up crew. There were a few with mud splattered all over from off-roading and back road cruising. My brother's souped up lime green Mustang was the ride for the bride in groom to and from the wedding site. Here is a picture of the groomsmen taking a pretend leak on my brother's baby... if they tried that for real, they would be splattered with mud themselves. It was more than enough to tie cans to the back of the car and tape on a Just Married sign for after the service. The rule was no tape allowed on the paint. It is the most expensive Mustang in history, I think.
I am surprised they even had their feet up on the bumper.

The original plan was for the boys to go golfing before the wedding. But staying true to his roots, Uncle Paul took his boys skeet shooting in the Back 40 over a pond. They sent the clay pigeons into the sky and shot them. With rifles. This was a first for some of the guys who have barely been out of the city. They all had a blast, but I am surprised they all came out alive. Hubby said at one point towards the end, when they all became cocky and confident, he backed away to the shed in fear that he might accidentally get in the line of fire, as 6 guns were all shooting at one poor clay pigeon all at once.
That just looks scary.

The girls spent the day pampering. Aunt Nancy treated us to a new hair-do and make up. It was something this DDM never does. We were all able to pick our own dress as birdesmaids. The only factor was that it had to be black. I found a vintage dress in Toronto with Auntie Missy. I love vintage. I even wore an emerald necklace and earrings of my grandmother's from the 1930's. I had my hair down and dramatic make up- fake lashes and the whole bit. Here is a picture of Uncle Jeff and I.
EvieG had an adorable dress and a cape that my MIL made for her. She had a basket of leaves that she spread down before Aunt Nancy came down the aisle. She did a super job and was so excited about being a part of the whole deal. She held out well and even stayed up later than usual. We did hire a babysitter for a few hours, but Hubby and I were impressed by her staying power.

The ceremony went well and was beautiful. It was at the top of a valley overlooking a hillside of fall colours. The guests sat on hay bales which was perfect for the setting.

The reception was fun and the speeches were hilarious. There was dancing. Serious dancing. It takes a little alcohol and usually some Madonna to get me going. But I was out in fine form blowing everyone away with my well choreographed moves. I pulled out everything from the sprinkler to lawn mower to the curler (I swept and the MC threw the rock) to the grocery cart (putting the food in the cart). Hubby was proud and not at all embarassed as he shook his head at me from the side of the dance floor. I should be on tour with someone huge for sure.

The bride and groom ended dinner with very moving words. They are very much in love.
We wish them well as they start their new life together. They make a lovely couple and will take good care of one another.

I just hope Aunt Nancy is okay with having me as a sister-in-law. She just won't ever want to dance with me out in public. I'll just give her a few cocktails first and then we can cut some serious rug. I hope we do.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Family, Fun, Hubby

It is 4:15 pm. DDM looks up at the clock. Crap. She has been so immersed in cleaning out the toy cupboard squalor that she has not even thought about feeding her family dinner.

She dials Hubby's work number and bothers him for the 4th time that day.

Hubby: Dominion Securities.

DDM: Hey.

Hubby: It's you. Again. (Pause)

DDM: Are you there?

Hubby: Ya. I'm just leaning over to my Mom's Phone Calls Tally Sheet to mark down another phone call from you. This is 4 today and...just a second.....11 so far this week. And the day is not over yet.

DDM: You are funny. I am crying I am laughing so hard.

Hubby: What do you want now?

DDM: I love you....

Hubby: Which means you want something.

DDM: No it doesn't! Just the occasional time when I find myself in a bind. I just realized that it's quarter after 4 and I have nothing for dinner.

Hubby: Again?

DDM: Yep. I guess another day just got away from me. I forgot to take the meat out of the freezer. And when I forget to take the meat out of the freezer, the rest of dinner just doesn't come together. It requires a little more thinking and planning. I can't pull it all together at the last minute like this.

Hubby: So I am cooking again today? That's ok (sigh). I will just do everything. Don't worry.

DDM: Could you pick up....

Hubby: (jokingly) I would be dialing for pizza right now, but you are still on the line. Bye!

DDM: Bye.

Click.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS It is Friday! I will be back on Monday! I am in Toronto this weekend to meet new babies! Yay! And getting in some solid girl time.

Labels: DDM, Fun, Hubby

I thought we were the only family left. The only ones who are breaking the cardinal rule. A rule similar to the 'no white after Labour Day,' or the 'no sandals before May 2-4 Weekend.' But we are not the only ones. I found someone else guilty of the same laziness. We have completely broken the, 'Take-your-Sport-Rack-off-the-top-of-your-vehicle-after-your- summer-holiday-is-OVER-so-you-don't-look-like-a-complete-lazy-arse-procrastinator' rule.

Yesterday Hubby and I had a repeat conversation. This conversation is almost identical to the Christmas lights talk. It goes something like this:

DDM: Are we going to take the Sport Rack down off the top of the van soon? (Sidebar: WE CLEARLY meaning HIM)

Hubby: At least I can see you coming.

DDM: Well, true, but the whole town can see us coming. And you know what they are all thinking, right? I will tell you. They are all thinking to themselves, Oh, look! Those lazy arse people STILL haven't taken their Sport Rack off. Don't they know summer is over and fall is here? Summer vacation is not until next year!

Hubby: I don't think so. I think they are saying, Wow! Those people are really smart! They are prepared for their vacation and have ample storage room too!

DDM: Take the damn thing down, would you?

Hubby: Maybe this weekend. We'll see. (Sidebar: Always trying to get the last word in...)

DDM: Humph. (Turn on heel and walk away)

I went to London today with the Wee Ladies in tow. By myself. Daring of me, I know. When we were on our way home, I saw it. Another vehicle with a Sport Rack on top. And I got excited. Just like I did in my early driving days when I should have had a bumper sticker on my car that read: If This Car's a Rockin', Pull Over to the Right Immediately: Dangerous Teenager Behind the Wheel. I reacted in the same way I did when playing the Punch Bug, No Punch Backs game when a VW Bug came into view, or my personal favourite- the One Eye game. The One Eye game is when you spot an oncoming car with only one working headlight. If you are the first to spot it, you slam your hand against the interior roof as hard as you can and shout at the top of your lungs, ONE EYE! You startle everyone around you, thank the stars above that you just didn't land in the ditch and then you keep tally of your numbers. Whoever has the most one eyes, wins. It is very easy to get carried away with this game.

I had no one to play with today. This bummed me out. EvieG was watching Nim's Island on her portable DVD player that is only allowed out on trips of an hour or more. Spark Plug and The Destroyer were asleep. Just as I was about to hammer the back of my hand against the ceiling of the van and shout Sport Rack!, I realized that this would do nothing but bring the Wee Ladies to tears. And that clearly is not the object of the game. So I kept driving looking for more Sport Racks. And no, the cool looking Thulle ski racks are not the same. They don't count for any points. They are out of the Sport Rack league.

I didn't feel so bad after seeing the other member of the I-will-keep-my-Sport-Rack-on-however-long-I-want-club. There are others like us out there. And I bet they have their Christmas lights up until March too. Just like us.

March isn't so bad. It could be longer than that. In the northern Ontario town where we vacation with the Sport Rack, Hubby and I estimate that two of every three houses has their Christmas lights up in August still. They just never take them down up there. Their summers are so short and before you know it, the snow is flying again. So to them, there is no point in taking them down, when all you are going to do is put them back up again.

At least we unplugged the lights by the end of January. Plus they were camouflaged in the snow. And Hubby didn't want to end up in the Marble Orchard prematurely by hopping out onto the roof. Only a few people commented on our lights still being up in March. Hubby wanted to wait for the nice weather to take them down.

But what exactly is he waiting for with the Sport Rack?

Like everything else in our world, it will get done. In due time.

He has until the end of this weekend. And that is the last word.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Hubby

I wrote about the Bride of Chucky last week. She is the one doll that was picked out of a garage sale by my MIL for a dime and is the most beloved of all the dolls. She looks like she is possessed. I am convinced she is wanting to send us all to the loony bin because now we wake up at random hours of the night to talking toys and other child objects that cry out in the night. Pretty soon Hubby is going to be sitting in the middle of the living room floor with candles and a Ouija board daring the spirits to show themselves.
We have had to do an exorcism of our house and rid the premises of all demonized toys. The first one we chucked to the road was Alphabet Pal. Have you seen and listened to this thing before? It has got to be one of the most irritating toys I think I have ever heard.

Each foot can sing a tune, tell its colour, its letter, and sound. The best part about this toy is that it makes a real hum-dinger of a party game. After a few cocktails, you can pull this toy out and try and spell out words phonetically. Dirty words. This is a very challenging activity, but once you have had a few beverages, the repertoire of dirty words is broadened and the challenge becomes that much more rich and exciting because it will not by any account let you spell out dirty words phonetically. It catches on to what you are doing and kibosh's your spelling bee with a dirty little giggle. Sound it out- d, short i, and you are going for the c-k, only to get the hee hee hee. This party game can easily amuse a group of 8 somewhat in the bag adults all night. Guaranteed.

You would think the bride of Chucky would unleash the foul potty mouth of this toy. But instead she opts to have this crazy, purple caterpillar talk out in the night. She sets out to freak the house by making us think we are being haunted or that there is an intruder. All of a sudden we will wake to the, "Hi! I'm Alphabet Pal!" or "Hi! I'm Edison!" or you will hear its little jingle followed by, "Good bye!" We go downstairs only to find Alphabet Pal in the dog's crate.

We had a green electric guitar that does not have a turn off button. And it turns on with the brush of a finger. Uncle Jeff buys us these really annoying gifts, including The Annoying Thing.
This guitar has had a home at the back of the toy cupboard. It is periodically discovered and resurfaces for a while. This past weekend it came back to life. But its life was finally laid to rest.

The Wee Ladies were outside in the backyard a lot this weekend. The weather is cooling off and it is perfect for playing. It is also perfect for sleeping. We turned off the air a while ago and just keep the windows open. Friday night Hubby was having trouble getting to sleep, as usual, and just as he was drifting off, he heard a startling noise outside. But because he was in the half sleep, half awake mode, he couldn't figure out what the sound was. At first he thought it was a problem with the alarm system. Nope. Then he thought it was a short circuit in the stereo system. Nope. All intact. The TV? Nah. A burglar? Not that either. At this point, he has been upstairs and downstairs, outside, and in the basement trying to figure it out. And he was seriously startled by this noise. Finally, with all the ruckus, I woke up and heard this noise. Hubby asked, "Do you hear that? What is that?" I stated without hesitation, "It's that stupid guitar Jeff gave us out in the backyard." And then I promptly went back to sleep. He got up and brought it inside. Obviously he didn't clearly think that move through because an hour later, it started belting out another number. I woke up again and shot, "Did you not get rid of the possessed demon toy?" Hubby replied with a sheepish yet stern tone, "Oh..... no." I asked, "Where did you put it?" He responded with, "On the kitchen table." I sighed loudly like I was all put out and stuff, got up, and as I was on my way downstairs, knowing that he had just fallen asleep like 10 minutes before and it was now 2:30 am, I snipped with, "If it was making noise outside, it will make noise inside too. So putting it on the kitchen table should have been the last place to put it. I will put it in the garage. Where it can no longer be heard." The end.

The guitar is now at the side of the house in a garbage can, waiting for the BFI guys to take it away so it can try to possess the things in the garbage pile.

Hubby could not settle down after the possessed guitar drama. He hardly slept that night. It had just sent him into paranoia mode. I think it was the demon toys trying to get to him.

Maybe the bride of Chucky should magically disappear to the garbage bin.

Because a lack of sleep will change anyone into a zombie. And we can't let the demon toys win.

We humans will prevail.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS We went to a Halloween barn party. I partied in a barn, just like the old days of country parties. I filled up on bread and carbs and drank beer all night without losing my cool. I had so much starch in me, there was no way the alcohol could get the better of me. I was Madonna on Tour (current tour) and Hubby was Prince from the Purple Rain era. We had a ball. He was hurting yesterday. The white refined starch in my tummy filtered the beer better than my liver.

Here is a picture post-party. I am ready for bed and I am wearing an oxygen tube around my neck because there was an oxygen bar there. Have you ever tried that? It was like inhaling Glade PlugIns directly through your nostrils.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Hubby

I have met my outing quota for the week. It is back to school and my babysitter just started high school. So it's me and the Wee Ladies. EvieG starts Kindergarten next week. We had to go out and get her a new backpack and a couple of back-to-school pieces.

I mean a couple pieces because that is all A) I had time for, because B) I was running on empty in the patience and sanity departments. Taking the three Wee Ladies anywhere is a chore, but toss them into the shoe section at Zellers and you are in for a swirling good time.

Our fridge has nothing but condiments in it because I am heavily procrastinating on the whole grocery store outing, and as I mentioned, I have reached my outing quota for the week. So I guess that means we resort to the canned goods (many kinds of beans and mandarin oranges) and the wide variety of Uncle Ben's so-called rice pilafs that have been sitting in the back of the pantry for the last 3 years.

Picking the backpacks was the first on the list. It should have been the last because it was the easiest of the tasks. EvieG picked yet another Princess backpack. We are now 2 for 2 on this backpack theme. Spark Plug had to feel she was a part of the game and she chose a Tinkerbell backpack. Does she even need one? Nope. But getting it for her just saved me from a meltdown extraordinaire. I had to strap The Destroyer down to the seat of the cart to avoid her falling and cracking her head open.

We then went for a walk through the aisles at cosmic speeds as we made our way to the clothing section. Here's where the inner diva in Spark Plug emerged and it was a big, blossoming, coming out party. Her new nickname is Shiny Accessory. We had glasses, bags, hair clips, hats, and anything that shined. It was like watching a fish swimming towards the sparkly lure. And she got caught every time, only the accessories were the ones being thrown back in.

We found EvieG a shirt and skirt. She tried to get me to buy her new socks and underwear. Yes, socks and underwear. Unlike her impractical sister, she goes for the things she probably needs most. And what a way to start a fresh school year. New stench free socks and gitch. Perfect. My kind of shopper. When I first proposed the whole back-to-school-shop, she just looked at me sullenly and said in a half moan, half pout, "Well, Mommy, I really don't like shopping very much." It was all you could do not to peel me off the ceiling... This moment brought to you by The Proud Moms Network.

The last phase of our outing was set in none other than the (my opinion here) dreaded and overstocked shoe department. I do not have the patience to outfit my Wee Ladies in shoes. It is a daunting and tedious task. I loathe it. I really have difficulties with anything shoe related when it comes to the Wee Ladies because I never know if it fits right. EvieG told me that a size 9, 10, and 11 were all, "Just right, Mom!" Crap.

By the end of our time with the soles and the Wee Ladies, I was done. And I looked into the cart only to find a pair of teeny tiny work boots, teenage sparkled fuchsia flats, adult sized bright red patent kitten heels, and a pair of Dora light-up running shoes.

As a sidebar, those shoes that shine a bright red light every time a kid takes a step effects me in a way that I am always on the verge of a seizure. They are the worst things ever. I once sent Hubby out to buy EvieG a pair of indoor shoes for school and he broke our household cardinal rule. NO LIGHT-UP SHOES ALLOWED ON THE FEET OF THE WEE LADIES. EVER. I almost had cardiac arrest when I saw them. I sent his butt back to the store for a FULL refund. And then I made him sign a statement swearing on his life that he would never, ever, even think about purchasing light-up shoes again.

Besides the wide array of colours and styles in the cart, there were multiple pairs of shoes surrounding us on the floor. And there are so many rows and columns of shoes, I never know where to return them. I get lost and overwhelmed as I stare at the multitude of plastic shoes. They all kind of blend in together. So I just end up messing up the depths of the Zellers shoe department, and as we leave, the employees are cursing at me all the way out the door.

By the time our mission was complete, I was at the point where Spark Plug had no shoes on and was insisting on staying to try on more. I began to walk away with the others and bid her adieu. She started screaming, "Mommy, wait! WAIT! WAIT, Mommy!" I just looked back over my shoulder and matter-of-factly replied, "Well then, let's go!" And she ran barefoot across the crusty floor to me where we got her own shoes back on.

I was right ready to kill someone at this point as EvieG wanted to dilly dally her way to the cashier, Spark Plug was ranting, and The Destroyer was strategizing her way out of the confines of the cart. Of course there were only 2 cash registers open. I mean what was that all about? It was already 9:00 for crying out loud. They should have at least 3 open. So I stood back and stared. Like waiting at the border, I had to pick the fastest, most efficient line. I usually fail miserably every time and get in the slowest line ever, but I had to make the right choice today. I had to get out of there.

I got behind a lady who was in the last moments of getting her stuff rung through. Once it was done, she was given her total. And then what did she do? COUNT OUT THE EXACT FRIGGING CHANGE! Ugh! She was taking forever! I was huffing and puffing annoyingly loud. By now EvieG was picking at the gum and chocolate bars, Spark Plug was playing in the empty cash register bagging area beside us, and The Destroyer was picking the taped signs off the wall. I kept maneuvering the cart to keep the little hands away, I got a hold of Spark Plug just as I was getting the stink eye from an old lady in the next line, and told EvieG no candy till after lunch.

Finally it was our turn. The stuff was rung through, HBC points and card offerings flatly and firmly denied, and debit done. I threw the bags into the cart and raced to the van. Everyone and everything was tossed in, I got into the drivers seat, started the van, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. What a chore that was!

Another mission complete.

Will I ever like going out ever again?

Cause right now it just plain old sucks.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Be sure to check out the info for our Girl's Night Out below. You can enter to win a free ticket to a night of great food, wine, and fun.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, EvieG, Hubby, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

Living with three Wee Ladies is life on a thrill ride. All the time. Who needs roller coasters when you've got three built right in?

There are five very strong personalities under one roof. When we are trying to discipline or set the rules, the Wee Ladies sometimes resist in protest. They don't always like what the United Front has to say. And so sometimes the strong personalities come at each other like disgruntled rams, but instead of the smacking and locking of the horns, a battle erupts in an attempt to win the last word.

The need for the last word is like a dog marking its territory. The desire to be heard and recognized, acknowledged and respected. And even at 5, 2, and 1, the Wee Ladies will strike back like a venomous snake with wanting the last word, even if it isn't a last 'word' per se. It could be a grunt, and squeal, a scream, a stomp of the foot, or clenching of the fists.

I am in control, but as we stare down one another in silence, all of a sudden the fist clenches and I get a squeal shouted at me. It happens in mere milliseconds too. I don't think I am always going to get lashed at. I am like the prey and the Wee Ladies like the predator. They lead me to believe that they will back down, run away, and leave me alone. When in reality, the unassuming facade changes colour and direction as I am confronted with the last word.

How often do they win the battle of the last word? Sometimes they do. We pick our battles. I will turn my back, walk away, and ignore. There are times when the Wee Ladies need to let it all hang out. We all need to vent and rant every now and then. By all means, go nuts. There are other times when I will not back down. I will get the last word. Even if it means displacing them to a crib, step, or playpen, so they can reaffirm their commitment to this house and their siblings. And their Mom.

I have size on my side.

Where does this desire for the last word stem from? I have to say that strong personalities exist on both sides of the family. My dad was strong and ran his own business. He had the last word all the time. My Mom has her views and opinions on things as well. My brothers are both really out for the last word, and in my typical middle child way, I am often a mediator. Which ultimately gives me the last word as I combine views and perspectives to bring everyone together. Like how I pulled that one together?

Hubby's side is hilarious when it comes to the last word. I love watching them sit around in discussion. It starts out okay, but the winds and words pick up until they are at hurricane gale force levels. The words start flailing about like rag dolls being thrown down the stairs, until finally the words have lost all meaning and the discussion makes no sense. Because it is all about getting the last word, even if it means that the point was left behind in the last town.

Hubby and I have had some good last word matches ourselves. It is like the hand pile game. I put my hand on yours, yours on mine, and so on, until one of us finally throws in the towel and gives up. Our discussions will often end with, "So who gets the last word this time?" I will say, "Is it me this week? Well then, I know you are, but what am I?"

We have realized that we will win some and lose some with the Wee Ladies. Spark Plug stands proud and firm all the time in search for the last word. She usually shouts, "NO!" a million times a day. Sometimes after the NO! is a giggle telling me that she knows it's all about the last word. With EvieG it is most often, "But why?" or "How come?" even after a decision has been made. The Destroyer just grunts at me and flexes her thigh muscles.

Unlike Jack and Victor from The Young and the Restless, we don't have any contracts dictating who gets the last word in the scene. We just have to go with the flow and accept the fact that we will win some and lose some. We are not always right and we have to consider other people's feelings, views, and perspectives.

But it feels damn good to get the last word, doesn't it?

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Tomorrow morning I have my interview with Readers Digest.ca!! I will keep you posted!

Labels: Battle, DDM, EvieG, Family, Hubby, Spark Plug, The Destroyer