proof is in the piddling

Sweet Jesus on the mount, is it possible I've been working on this for a YEAR?

HOW have I not gone insane yet?

mama amnesia

We've hit a snag on the final days of toilet training here at the daygobys.

You see, Rosey suddenly wants nothing to do with it. Since her brother went to school, she's been a veritable waterfall. While I definitely see that she's feeling a bit lost and unsure without her sidekick, (and expect that it'll cease soon) the puddling? Makes me want to snarl.

I was so done with this.

So, we've been encouraging her and reminding her and telling her she's a big girl and so on.

This morning:

Me: Pinky! What do big girls do?
Rosey: Pee in the toilet.
Me: Yes! You're so smart. You're my smart, beautiful girl.
Rosey: Big girl.
Me: Very smart girl.
Rosey: I not very smart.
Me: (uh?) Yes you are.
Rosey: No I not. I Rosemary smart.

and off she flounced.

out of the mouths of vets

This morning Rosey and I took the dog to the vet office for a checkup. He's usually the biggest dog there (another of my many talents is to invariably book him when the waiting room is filled with small fluffy dogs that crouch in fear and pee when he comes into the room) and quite often the stupidest - the puppy in him makes him a whining drooling mess and the way everyone in the room is gawkingly afraid he's going to savage poor twee Bitsy or Noodles makes him hyper.

The vet, though, was soothingly friendly as Jasper wound his leash around her legs and tried to beat her into submission with his tail. "He's healing well" she said as he did the happy dance and piddled a little. "I guess you've forgiven me, hey, boy?"

(The last time she saw Jas he was briefly still a he. If you get my meaning.)

Jasper gazed up at her with love bursting from his deep brown eyes and whammed his head into the crotch of her pants. Ooofing a little, she made him sit and gave him a biscuit, then gave his leash back to me. "Okay! Everything looks great. Do you have any interest in taking him to obedience class? We're starting one soon."
"Don't we have to wait until he's full-grown?" I asked her as she oofed again and danced away from the dog.

Her eyes got really big. "Full-grown? Hon, you do realize he's going to be a moose, don't you?
I really think it might be better if you had more...ahh, control over him before he's bigger than the kids."

BIGGER THAN THE KIDS. I now have a medical opinion that the Jabberwocky is going to be the BIGGEST DOG ALIVE.

And now we're back, and the Beast is sooo happy to not have tickly bits of string on his person that he's goofy-eyed and foolish with affection.

I wonder if I could buy a pony-cart? Or a sleigh. Or maybe he could just carry the children on his back. Either way, I have to find him a job to do.

the warranty ran out long ago

B:

Wow! We made it! Seven years!

I guess now I gotta keep you, huh?

We've lost a little hair (okay, that's you) and gained a few grays (sigh...that's me) but on the whole, it's been a fun trip so far. Let's go for another spin on the ferris wheel.

Happy Anniversary, honey.
xox Jess

going straight

I've been asked to write a blog for one of the local papers for their on-line version. After he saw some samples from this blog, the editor set up a site for me...with a very familiar title, but this time the byline is my real name.

This scares me just a little bit. I think you all know that I never paid that much attention to the horror stories and warnings about don't ever show your kids! Use fake names! Hide where you live! and I'm not sure if it's complacency or foolishness that keeps me feeling safe and far, far away from all the horror stories of blogdom.

Somehow, it all feels so much more real and dangerous, to be local. I have changed a few identifiers on the new blog - the kids finally have aliases, and I'm not listed under my married name, but I'm sure someone could figure it all out, given the inclination. That is, if anyone wanted to find out who writes the silly little things I put in there anyway.

So if that angst isn't enough....

now I have writer's block. The new blog is supposed to be funny, and new and improved! and for a new section of people - but I know my audience for this one, and I'm having a hard time moving to a new classroom with all new kids. (So to speak.)

Growing up isn't always easy to do.

books books I love books

tagged by Major Bedhead - I want to visit her sometime, and in between playing with her criminally cute offspring, covet her books a little. (And after that sentence, she'll probably be putting a deadbolt up....)


Total number of books owned: I'd say between fifty and a hundred in this house. I really cleared house when I moved - the library loves me.

Last book bought: National Geographic Photography Field Guide (which I should have read more in the bookstore, because it's getting a bit technical for me)

and a lucky find: Little Men, Louisa May Alcott, a lovely old (1913) copy with colored plates - paid .50 at a Frenchy's last week...ahh, love the bins!

Last book read: Am reading Afterwards, You're A Genius - a really engrossing book about medicine and the metaphysics of healing. The last few chapters have been about the history of medicine and it's just been incredible. The chapters are short, funny, and a good read.

Five Books that Mean a Lot to You: Humm. Everytime I think of different answers. So many good books...

A Wind In The Door, Madeleine L'Engle. The sequel to A Wrinkle In Time, this one was softer and more introspective. (And Calvin was still dishy.)

The Black Stallion series, Walter Farley. I'm afraid to go back and read these now, because I loved them SO MUCH when I was fourteen and horse-mad. I'm really, really hoping R will. But they were beautiful.

Flowers For Algernon, Daniel Keyes. My Dad gave me his copy, and then we discussed it. I think it was the first time that it connected that grown-up people talked about books and how they felt reading them, not just high schoolers.

The Witch Of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speares. Haunting story about a young girl who leaves a colorful, culture rich life in Barbados and travels to Colonial America, where she's laughed at for being different. How she copes and the lessons she learns about fitting in while remaining wholly herself are amazing.

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, Joan Aiken. I loved this Victorian tale of two spunky heroines trying to get away from a nasty governess (strong tones of Sara Crewe in The Little Princess) and used to plot elaborate escape routes out of my house so I could have an adventure like they did. I re-read this one a few months ago and found it....well, silly, but back then? I probably could have quoted you bits and pieces.

(I'm adding this one)

Five Books That You Just Don't Get:

Alice In Wonderland, L. Carroll. I read this monstrosity twice in high school and three times in college. Even if you accept the fact that Carroll was a raving drug user there is still a LOT of crazy running through this book.

Love You Forever, Robert Munsch. Cass and I read it once and that night he had a nightmare that I was under the bed, waiting until he went to sleep so I could stick my head up over the edge of the bed and shout boo! And I must have missed the parenting class where they said it was perfectly appropriate to sneak into my child's bedroom even when he lives across town. And has a baby of his own. Um, yeah.

The da Vinci Code. Just. Didn't. Think. It. Was. Worth. The. Ink. Or the paper. Or the hype.

Good In Bed, Jennifer Werner. I like other books of hers (Try In Her Shoes) but this one was bleak, dark, and depressing.

The Five People You Meet In Heaven. Just....no.

If you haven't, and want to, I TAG YOU.

housecall

It's been a long, long summer.



Season Premiere, September 25th.

monkey bars

My friend Jamie has been fighting cancer for a long time - bravely, sweetly, and with patience and fortitude. This morning she heard from her doctor -not good news. Please keep her in your thoughts tonight.

***************

Today we passed up the Great Canadian Lumberjack Show and Challenge (although I'm dying to know what Obstacle Pole Bucking is - sounds like something you'd do on a bad date to me) and instead took the kids to Cass's school and let him show us the playground. He was puffed up with the importance of it, leading us around, clowning on the monkey bars, showing R how to pump her legs on the swing.

I walked over to where B was sitting and ran an arm around his shoulders. "Changed much from your day?"
He shook his head. "I used to play there, on the teeter-totter. And the rocket." He was quiet with his memories for a minute, then jumped to his feet.

"Enough of that. Let's go find Papa."

So we went to supper with Papa and had a good time - Rosey singing "Old MacDonald Had a Farm - Eeeeee-Ohhhhh" and quacking no matter what animal we listed (and giggling because she was making her Papa laugh) and Cass mixing up knock-knock jokes and telling us all about school.

And I thought: I may never get to see my kids run across the playground where I went to school, but this was something that really contents B, that really makes sense to him.
And I love the continuance of it.


And today? It was good, and right, and satisfying.
Just like a Sunday should be.

quit ruining my eco-trip

We've switched over to canvas carry-alls for groceries instead of the ubiquitous plastic bags. Our local grocery chain helped us out with this by making them available for 99 cents each - they're nice, sturdy with a green bottle on the front - square-bottomed, wide straps - a very handy little bag.

We've probably bought six or eight by now, though, because of all the uses that people keep finding for them. For instance, they're the perfect size to hold a change of clothes and shoes. Or a lunch, complete with thermos. Library books. Or for taking the recyclables back. They're just right for a sick dolly and her blankie.

I managed to wrestle several away from my family and went to go check out the produce today. Four sweet potatoes, some gorgeous eggplant and a really nice butternut squash. I didn't use the little plastic bags for the veggies because - really, who doesn't wash their vegetables first?

I hummed a little, waiting at the check-out. There was a new girl being trained (I always pick that line. It's one of my talents.) and I waited, musing over which recipe I was going to use with the eggplant and wondering if I could get B to eat it again. Alton's steak recipe, I decided, and put my things on the conveyor.

I was trying to remember if we had cider vinegar at home when I realized what I was seeing. The cashier, talking very quickly to the trainee while she rang items up, was telling her how to bag items. "And of course look to see if they have the bags before you start. Look at the yams! Aren't they lovely!" she smiled at me while she stuck my sweet potatoes in a plastic bag and put it inside my canvas bag. Ditto the eggplant. I didn't wait for the squash.

"Uh, I don't need the plastic, thanks."

Her hands stilled, and she blushed. "No, no, of course not." She unloaded the plastic bags and put my vegetables (nudely?) back.

I was telling B later how I was saving the world, one plastic bag at a time! glad I hadn't brought more plastic bags home with me. Of course, I'm sure that the bags in question were immediately thrown away, so not much of a savings there.....

B frowned. I was deep in an explanation of BlogHer Canada's monthly goal when it struck me - he wasn't really upset about the environment. Nor the bags.

No, B was concerned about the eggplant.

'That's not really dinner, is it?'

Hmph. Some people should be in a bag.

falling season

It seems the windy and rainy season is upon us here - while today is lovely, cool and green, there's a distinct hint of autumnal crispness in the air.

Apples are plunking! against the shed roof and the blackberries are showing their jeweled faces - time to take long hikes and berry-pick.

Time to begin indian summer.

I'm ready.

this could have ended badly

There's one in every bunch - the co-worker who, while not stupid - drives you insane because of their attitude. Eeyore is very smart and ready to discourse on any subject....for hours upon end. Coupled with a 'it looks like a bad day. oh bother.' attitute, this gets old fast.

B got hung up at a meeting he had on Monday, so lucky me! I got to take both the kids with me to my mammogram. Did I mention small girl hadn't had a nap? Yeah.
So while I marvelled stupidly at the way the big hospital does things the same way (Both hospitals share the same district, I always just forget) the kids tore up and down the hall and did not want to be contained. I flapped after them in my johnny shirt, hissing warnings and threats and finally cornered them with a forgotten stash of Legos, dug out of the farthest reaches of my purse.

This worked really well until I was actually called for the boob-squishing, when curiousity won out over my barkings to 'sit still!' I will always remember the round eyes of my kids peering over the barrier as the tech attempted to detatch things that were not meant to be interchangeable.

The tech took pity on me and my silly-putty breasts and finally sequestered the inquisitive two in the main ultrasound area with stickers. (Gotta get me some of those! *smacks head*)

They worked a treat. I was able to finish posing and put my poor abused chest back into my street clothes before I hunted the kids up....

Where I found them sitting with Eeyore, acting like angels.

'You have nice kids', he said.

first day: primary

He stood a bit taller this morning, excited and proud....and I thought to myself: Holy Crap. He's all grown up.

And just the start of his adventures, I'm sure.....

imprinted

We were all outside in the yard today - Cass whizzing around on his Jeep, B doing something to his chain saw (something with the carburetor?) and Miss R running everywhere, poking at flowers and honeybees and hunting for the season's last gorgeous wild blueberries, which grow thick upon our slope. (Or did. The birds are fat 'round here.)

B fussed and fiddled. Y'know, I was never interested in the woods. Or machines, really, although I am proud of what car maintenance and tools I know*. And then I went and fell in love with a man who trained as a forester, for Pete's sakes.
Someone up there is laughing.

Anyhoo! The day was lovely. A few of the leaves are beginning to turn, and there's a feisty squirrel that charges across the road, whisks up the tree, steals an apple, and runs back home to watch for, and a few butterflies to exclaim over and follow across the field. Tuckered out, Rosey had her thumb in her mouth and her head on my shoulder. 'Sing Sunshine, Mama.'

And I did. I tucked my head under her hair and sniffed by her ear - that good scent that is hers alone, and thought: I would always know you.

Always.



*The first week we were married, B changed the spark plugs on the car. He was hunting through boxes and muttering to himself 'where is that stupid thing' when I shocked and amazed him (and I think, turned him on a little) by asking if he wanted to borrow my gapper, which I then handed over.