Sicko

Originally posted Januay 10/2008 on "Allison Wonderland"


We had a sick boy yesterday morning. Simon is usually reasonably happy when he wakes up, if still a bit sleepy. Yesterday, though, he was not a happy guy. He was floppy and sad and crying. He'd had a good sleep, so I knew something was up... I just didn't know what. I found out after AJ left (for his RCMP interview!), when Simon barfed all over the couch. On my spot, to be exact. Chunky, curdled milk barf. Blargh! Yeah, it made me gag, but it was better than it would have been a few months ago.

< Sad, sick boy

Leather couches are looking better and better. At least you can wipe stuff off of them... I had no idea how to get liquid barf out of upholstery. I guess that's good, since it means we haven't had to deal with it before, but still... not a smell you want lingering. I got most of the ick up with paper towels and tried to soak up the liquid with a dish towel... and tried to wash the spot with dish soap and warm water... and then I dumped a crapload of baking soda on it to soak up the wetness AND the smell. And I added a reminder to myself:


Definitely didn't want to sit on that... especially after the baking soda turned into a nice yellow paste, which I then dumped more baking soda on.

The good news is that it was dry this morning, and I vacuumed up all of the dust and yuckiness. I haven't got too close, but so far, I can't smell anything (but I'm pretty sure I'll be febreze-ing it, anyway). As for Simon, he had a bath (and so did Tiger) and a long nap, and by supper time he seemed fine. I don't know what that was all about, but I'm glad it didn't last long, anyway. He's happily munching on apples and jumping around now, and I'm getting smiles today. Hooray!

And AJ? He passed his interview, no problems. I'm so proud of him! That's the step in the application process he was most worried about, and the interviewer told him he shouldn't have any problems with the rest of it. Next comes the polygraph test... crazy.

But Can You Throw It in the Washing Machine?

Originally posted January 9/2008 on "Allison Wonderland"


Don't you just hate it when you finally get to sleep, and then something startles you and wakes you up? I get that a lot. Every night, actually, when AJ opens the bedroom door to come to bed- the noise makes me jump out of my skin. Literally. And then it's just a pain in the arse to have to get up, take off my pajamas and put my skin back on... but if I don't, someone might come along and steal it, and who knows what horrible things they might do while they looked like me? No, it's best to just get up, put the darn thing back on and try to get to sleep.

(note: This is what I was thinking about as I was trying to fall asleep last night. No, I am not taking non-prescription drugs... apparently the prescription ones are doing the job just fine.)

Yeah, Buddy, That's How I Feel Most Mornings, Too

Originally posted January 6/2008 on "Allison Wonderland"

Thanks, DGM

Originally posted January 4/2008 on "Allison Wonderland"


I think the Critter has hiccups. Again. Poor little guy. It feels weird, but it's better than when he's kicking me. He's going to do it, you know- he's going to bust out of there. That, or they're going to cut me open and face an angry bundle of punches and karate kicks next month.

The pushing actually hurts sometimes- like, about once a day, when he really gets going. Inspired by a name used by Dad Gone Mad, I told the Critter that if he doesn't knock it off, I'm going to name him Dingleberry Bumblef*ck.

He doesn't seem too concerned, but it made me feel better.




Speaking of naming, no, AJ has not reached a decision on which name he prefers, which means we can't agree OR debate the issue yet. I'll keep you posted. I can tell you that he saw a preview for Alvin and the Chipmunks and decided that Theodore would be an excellent name, because then when his dad visits, we could have Calvin, Simon and Theodore. VETO.

I've been trying to create a naming poll here, but apparently my current format doesn't support that, so what we're going to do is this: Here's a list of names; leave a comment with your name and the one you prefer. This is for entertainment purposes only, of course...

-Nathan Steven (Nate)
-Isaac Steven (Ike)
- Dingleberry Bumblef*ck
-Theodore
-Other (leave in comments)

Christmas and Such

Originally posted January 2/2008 on "Allison Wonderland"


Christmas is over. We had a good one; I missed my family, as I do every year, but it's good to have some family (B&B) and friends-who-are-practically-family around. We saw the friends on Christmas Eve, the family on Christmas day.

Simon didn't get to sleep until almost 12:40 on Christmas Eve; AJ figures Santa had to loop back around to our place because SOMEONE wasn't asleep. As if the poor man doesn't have enough to do! We slept in on Christmas morning- I expect that this was the last time that'll happen for many years. Simon's first stocking present was a Wiggles video, which he wanted to watch right away; we managed to convince him to open some more presents first. He got the hang of it quickly, and by the end of the day he was looking at B&B's tree, asking, "A moooore? A more get?" At last, the child appreciates the true meaning of Christmas! I think the lights on the houses were still his favourite thing this year, though.

But yeah, it's over. I took the tree down yesterday; everything else was already packed away. I managed to get all of the Christmas stuff into two plastic bins; well, all except the big container of gold balls. That, and the big case of blue balls, but that's another issue entirely.

The cats aren't too happy about the tree coming down. It was Gus' favourite sleeping spot for a while, but he hasn't been able to get under there since the presents appeared. Still, they both enjoyed chewing on the branches... of the ARTIFICIAL TREE. Dummies. Simon watched me take the decorations off, and he seems ok with the whole thing; AJ is much sadder now that Christmas is over. He still has another one to look forward to, though, when his parents come to visit later this month.

Speaking of this month, we haven't heard from the property management company yet about who they are or where to send the rent money. I thought today, for sure... heck, if they don't want it, that's fine by me. It would be nice to know who we're dealing with (or not), though.

Long Time No Journal

Originally posted December 29/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Wow... last post 1 week ago? Christmas was busy. There have been many times I've thought about something (only God knows why most of the time) and thought, I should write that down. But I didn't, which means that you'll be spared most of my incoherent ramblings from last week. Merry Christmas.

One thing, though. I was at Sobeys (did you know they don't carry Wonderbread? Is that legal?) and I saw bags of those little, pink, hard-candy sticks that grandmas and great-aunts seem to have out every Christmas... I never knew they were called "Chicken Bones". Sick! I don't want to eat a candy that's named after something that goes in the garbage, and then the dog finds it and eats it and then gets sick and needs $4000 surgery before he gets a perforated bowel.

Besides, they look more like finger bones, anyway.

Roofing Update

Originally posted December 21/2007 om "Allison Wonderland"


A few days ago I said the workers on the roof sounded like a rhinoceros orgy.

In case you were wondering, today they sound like the Morbidly Obese One-Legged Irish Dancers' League.

(doesn't that sound like it should be a FOX reality show?)

Caution: Complaining Ahead. Best to Skip It

Originally posted December 19/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"

First of all, let me make it perfectly clear that I'm glad the house's new owner/manager/whatever is getting some repairs done. I hope that they get around to doing our little bit of roof some time before the spring.

That said, I wish it didn't sound like there were about 8 rhinoceri (rhinocerusses?) having an orgy on the roof. You'd think that two storeys of house would dull the sound a bit. No such luck. Maybe it's because the house is empty. In any case, the past week (except for storm day) it's been the same thing all day- BANG! BANG! RUMMMMMMBLE.... (rolling noises)... SCRAPE... BANG! BANG! BANG! thud.

I'm trying to be patient. After all, they're just doing their jobs, disruptive as they might be. I almost reached the end of my patience yesterday, though. Admittedly, the situation was made worse by the fact that I was exhausted after several nights of being kicked by what I now suspect is an octopus in my belly...

Simon and I dropped AJ off at work yesterday morning. Simon didn't want to come home right away (gee, why?), so we went and strolled around the mall- in spite of the fact that I had my greasy hair up in a ponytail and was still wearing my pajama t-shirt under my sweater. Really, who am I trying to impress? Simon was a very good boy at the mall; we had a little lunch there and came home in time for naps. And there was a truck in our driveway. With all the snow (ice, really) piled on the street, I couldn't exactly pull over to ask them to move it, so Simon and I parked across the street and made our way through an icy parking lot, across the street and back to the house along the street (there being no sidewalk right now)- I had to carry him for that last part. Poor muffin was crying from the wind. Then down the slippery steps (how is it possible that everyone is sold out of salt?) to the door- we were almost there when I slipped. I didn't fall down, but I did something to my back when I caught myself, and it HURT. Thank goodness Jenny agreed to pick AJ up fromwork for us so I didn't have to haul Simon back across the street to get the car- not that I could've carried him at that point.

It's a 2-car driveway. AJ has been doing a really amazing job of keeping our side clear of snow; a few nights ago, after the snow and freezing rain, he spent 40 minutes hacking his way through the wall of ice the plow had left- and this at 2 in the morning. He's kept on top of things so it hasn't become a big job. So am I crazy for being a bit angry that these guys, who are supposed to be looking after the property, haven't bothered to clear the other side of the driveway- the spot belonging to the part of the house they're working on? WE DIDN'T CLEAR THAT NICE PARKING SPACE FOR YOU, GUYS.

AJ's got the car today, anyway, so it doesn't matter at this point. I guess I'm just tired and cranky, and a little put out by the fact that no one seems to realize that there are, in fact, people living here. And we still don't have the name of the management company... or contact information. I'm willing to bet we'll get all kinds of information when January 1st rolls around, though.

Reality At Its Finest

Originally posted December 16/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Have I mentioned lately that I really hate US magazine? Have I also mentions that it arrives at my house every week like a virus I just can't shake? The problem is that it's reading material, and if there's nothing else lying around, I have to read it. It's like gravity- it's a natural law. I have to read something.

And so I learn that celebrities really ARE just like us- they pump gas! They buy expensive coffee! They pick up dog poop! Why do I care?!

I get to read "in-depth" articles (ie based entirely on rumours, quotes taken out of context and third-hand information) about people I don't even care about on a professional level- I really couldn't care less whether Jessica Simpson ever puts out another album or "acts" in another movie, never mind whether she should have stayed with Nick. I also get weekly updates on the State of the Britney, and though I find it hard to have any sympathy for someone who seems to care so little for her kids, I find it really creepy that millions of people are watching a human being self-destruct. She needs serious help from a real psychiatrist, but she doesn't have to get it, does she?

My favourite this week is the section on Christmas gift ideas. These advertising shopping sections are in every issue, of course; it's just a convenient time to slap a holiday label on. I always have a laugh over these "articles"- the junk they show is so expensive.


What do we have- aaahhhh: "Treat someone special (or give 'em a helpful hint!) with these A-list approved presents for everyone on your list". The first gift featured? A pair of really pretty, sparkly peep-toe shoes... for only $1,325! Wow, put 'em in my stocking, Sweetie! What planet are these people living on? Yeah, I know some people consider it reasonable to spend $355 on a purse (?!), but how about (since it's a special occasion) we splurge on this nice Tod's alligator bag for just $15,000? $2000 anti-aging caviar cream... $21,000 (each) gold and diamond bracelets that are just gorgeous if you stack 4 or 5 on at a time...

And my very favourites: who wouldn't want a $13,500 sleeveless white chinchilla coat? DO YOU KNOW HOW ADORABLE CHINCHILLAS ARE?!! And hey, for that money, I expect sleeves, people! Oh, and the belt shown is an extra $250. Oh, and wouldn't it look lovely with these dangly pink gold, diamond and sapphire earrings for just $89,630? Yeah, that price is printed correctly- I almost fell off my chair. Yeah, drop a little hint for that one this Christmas, why don't you?

At least men are cheaper: the most expensive gift shown "for him" is a $600 watch. I'm not sure if that says men are more responsible with their money or women aren't stupid enough to spend $7000 on a Christmas gift.

To their credit, US did put in an article about the various charities that famous people support- that was nice. I could have happily spent the rest of my life not knowing how much Suri Cruise's adorable little outfits cost. Gag.

And This is How Comedy Comes Back to Haunt Me

Originally posted December 8/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


AJ showed me this clip of one of Rowan Atkinson's standup bits a few months ago, and it very nearly embarrassed me out of Dominion just a few days ago:





I was actually looking for hummus and spinach dip, thanks to Simon's current love of condiments. President's choice has a lovely selection of dips and spreads available in the deli section; I highly recommend the Tzatziki. One of the new products (new around here, anyway) is "raita", that delicious, cool cucumber dip that goes very nicely with spicy Indian food.

I almost busted out laughing right there by the cooler, thinking, "cucumber raita... paperback raita..." Because, come on, that's FUNNY! Or maybe I'm just the crazy lady who laughs in the deli section.

re: Leaky Roof, Light, etc.

Originally posted November 29/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



After sending emails back and forth with Clompie today, I've learned a few things:

- the final inspection will take place on Monday. We need to tidy up before that. That's fine by me.

-We need to get the shower head replaced before then, too. I guess we'll do that on Sunday, since we're both working Saturday. We're paying rent on Saturday, and we can just keep whatever the fixture costs... the one we're not getting until Sunday... Ummm.... Guess we're doing some browsing on CanadianTire.com before we pay rent.

-She's still "trying to find someone" to fix the leak in the porch. Perhaps another nocturnal Mr. Fix-It?

- I asked about the light in the kitchen- the one that's been non-functioning since, oh, May-ish. See, she's supposed to get all the electrical issues dealt with before the sale is finalized. I'd like to share with you a direct quote from the e-mail replying to my question about that:

"regarding the light , just leave it and hopefully they wont try turning it on. I have no idea why that wont work, it always did, it must be something small."

Climate Change

Originally posted November 29/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Come, join me on a tour of the climate zones in our home...

As we enter, we encounter the smelly-and-cold-rainforest zone; highly unusual in any part of the world, as rainforests tend to be warm. OK, and I guess technically it's not a "forest", either, as vegetation is (for now) limited to whatever the heck might be growing in the ceiling- frankly, I don't want to know. It's damp and rainy, though. Wear your shoes in this zone if you come to visit, OK?

Aaaah, the comparatively semi-tropical Living Room zone. Generally not too bad, actually- dry and reasonably warm, if you ignore the drafty window. When we finally get the saran wrap stuff on the window, we expect that the climate in this zone will further improve. Contained within the Living Room zone is, however, the Desk Mini-Zone. The "Presto Heatdish Plus" sits on the desk, providing heat to the rest of the zone. But when you're sitting at the desk (as, say, I am now)... IT BURNS! IT BURNS! OH, THE HUMANITY!!!

Better than freezing- or using the electric heater that's against the drafty outside wall and lets the Very Expensive Heat out.

OK, which way shall we travel? Let's go West (I think) to the Bedroom climate zone. The climate varies in this zone, but generally falls in the cold-to-freezing range, thanks to my stubborn refusal to waste too much heat on a room that only gets used a few times a day. Generally a dry cold, much like Canada's arctic (did you know it's technically a desert?), with less snow and significantly fewer polar bears since I melted the ice caps with the hair dryer. The closet is occasionally a wet spot- more like a meat locker than a rainforest, though. Fortunately, 2 people in a bed plus one Puss on my head leads to a much warmer spot to sleep.

OK, back through the Living Room zone we go- don't touch the heater!- and into the Kitchen. HIGHLY unpredictable, this zone is suffering either the effects of global warming or an inefficient oven. One outside wall is half underground, which presumably provides some insulation- temperatures depend more on the use of large appliances than on outside temperatures. This zone can get VERY hot in the summer, and humid, too, thanks to...

The Back-of House zone. Exceedingly humid in the summer, and hot thanks to the continuous running of the dehumidifier- this can, of course be turned off, leaving inhabitants with a choice between cold (being underground) and wet or hot and slightly-less-humid. Sadly, the heat-giving dehumidifier is necessary only in the already-hot summer months. The bathroom is contained in this zone; highly variable climatic conditions, ranging from hot and humid to freeze-your-ass-off cold on winter nights. Smells are also highly variable, but that's another topic altogether.

This concludes our tour. Please remember to put your shoes and coat on before passing through the Cold-And-Smelly zone. Thank you.

Vampire Repairman

Originally posted November 26/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


How is this even possible? We came home at 8:30, and Clompie had a repairman (repair person?) just showing up to do some kind of thing out in back of the house- our front door. AJ stopped to mention to her (again) that we have an indoor swimming pool in our entryway... she said, "Really? It's leaking?" I am not joking, folks.

Where the heck do you find someone who's willing to come over to do outdoor repair work after dark?!

So now there's this guy out in the yard, in the dark, on a ladder. He may or may not have a flashlight. We have a porch light; it's motion-activated, and it stays on for a whole 2 seconds if you're really lucky. Clompie's out there with him, probably acting shocked at the state of the roof- what they can see of it under her deck, that is. They came in a few minutes ago to check out the ceiling. "Where's the leak?" she asked. AJ pointed to the huge brown blotch on the ceiling, the one that's all bulgy with wetness. Clompie stood there on the very wet carpet, looking bemused. Because, you know, we haven't been reminding her about this very problem for the past year and a half.

Part of the problem is obviously that the woman doesn't sleep. We've joked about that before, me and AJ, when we've heard her clomping around at all hours... but it's true. All these nights I've been up at random times with Simon, she's been up. A few nights ago she remembered to take her high-heeled shoes off at 1:30 am- that was nice. But then she started moving furniture... I think. Two nights ago there was a man's voice up there until veeery late, and again in the morning- I can only assume he went home late and then came back for breakfast. Nice guy. But really, if you never slept, you'd have memory problems, too. And... reality problems, I guess.

Seriously, though, why isn't he doing this stuff during the day?

Wiggles Road Trip (because my brain has nothing to do)

Originally posted November 24/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



For those of you not familiar with The Wiggles, they're a group of four Australian guys who sing and dance in a multitude of kids' videos and live shows. They spend a lot of time driving around in The Big Red Car. They're a cheerful bunch, they are.

Greg wears yellow- he does most of the singing. He also sits in the yellow seat and drives the Big Red Car. Greg always keeps his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

Anthony wears the blue shirt. He sits in the blue passenger seat, and eats like a horse- even in the car.

Murray is the tall one wearing red- you'll find him in the back seat playing his guitar.

Jeff is "the purple one". Jeff falls asleep all the time. That's his schtick.

From what we've seen on the videos, it seems like they always have a great time, get along and wear their seatbelts in the car. One can't help but wonder, though, what their road trips are like when the cameras are off...

* * * * * * * * *

Jeff: zzzzzz.....zzzzzzz....zzzzz

Anthony: Crikey, not again. Can't he sleep quietly? He's ruining my lunch.

Murray: (singing and strumming the same 2 chords over and over) Can't you sleep quietly? It will cause a riot...ly...

Anthony: Let's put his hand in warm water. No, let's shave his head!

Murray: Anthony will shave him... will no one save him? La la la la...

Greg: Guys, that's really distracting.

Jeff: (in his sleep) Shaddup. Mrblflupgh.

Anthony: (leans back toward Jeff) Jeff? Jeff, you have a problem. You're narcoleptic, mate. See a frigging doctor, will ya? Oh, gross... Greeeeeg, Jeff just drooled on Murray's leg!

Murray: Sick, mate! Why do I always have to sit next to Drooly McSleepy? Ant'ny's unrooooly, Jeff is drooooly... I call shotgun next tiiiiime...

Greg: Guys, I'm serious- knock it off or I'm turning this Big Red Car around and we're going home.

Murray and Anthony: NOOOOOOO!

Jeff: Naaar.... mrflmnts. Glaaaaah (drools)

Murray: Anthony haaas foooood... Jeff is being ruuuuude...

Anthony: Murray, mate, put the guitar away before I break it over your tiny, ill-proportioned head. Greg's driving.

Murray: He's a keener and a weiner- he's Aaaaaaaaan-thony!

Anthony: That's it! (flings lemon merangue pie over his shoulder at Murray- pie splatters all over Murray and Jeff) Learn another chord, ye gangly half-wit!

Jeff: mmmmmm

Greg: Hey! I swear I will pull over right now and have Officer Beaples bring you all in! I'll have Captain Feathersword keel-haul the lot of you! I'll put you on poop duty for Wags the Dog!

Murray and Anthony: Shaddup!

Jeff: *snort-snort* Wha- wha's goin on? Wha'd I miss? (Murray mashes pie goop in his face) Well, that was uncalled for...

Various Updates

Originally posted November 16/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



26 weeks pregnant, and we have finally reached the point where I'm getting "The Look" from customers at work. The shocked look that tells me they think I'm too young to be having a baby... or the "look away- quickly!" reaction. That means that it is now clear to complete strangers that I'm eating for 2, not drinking 2-4's.

I haven't had any comments yet. When I was pregnant with Simon, I got all variations of "Wow... you don't look old enough to be pregnant!" I know I've said this before, but really, when would that statement ever be appropriate? I get off easy; I can say "I'm older than I look." I leave it at that. It's not their business, really, and I don't feel like defending myself by saying I'm 26, and I've been married for blah, blah, blah... What if I was sixteen? What answer would satisfy the person who said that? "Yes, I'm far too young. Others should learn from my example. This is the tragedy of my generation." I don't know.

I saw the OB a few days ago; she's scheduling a c-section for me the week of February 14th. Mom's waiting for a date so she can book her flight; I'm wondering whether it would be a good or bad thing if the kid ends up with the same birthday as her, my aunt Kathy and my cousin Faith. That would be weird.

*******

The house has been sold. Hooray! We're done with showings. The home inspector has come and gone... he made a lot of notes. The appraiser came by, too. I guess it's all going well so far. In fact, it's working out VERY well for us. See, Clompie has agreed to get any plumbing or electrical issues taken care of before the final inspection. Whoopee! The plumber came by yesterday, and after a year and a half living here, we now have a faucet on the tub that doesn't leak. We no longer have to manually turn the hot water on and off when we want a bath or shower. And we're getting a new shower head, one that isn't held up with duct-tape. Oh, it's sweeeet. As for the porch roof... well, I really can't see the new owners getting that taken care of before the spring, so until outside temperatures start to stay below freezing, we have an entryway with a bulging ceiling, wet carpet and distinctly fishy odour. Eeeew! We keep that door shut.

*********

I finally got my one year review at work. I started working for the company almost 3 1/2 years ago, so I guess it was about time. I'll be getting a raise; it was a good review. Actually, the comments made me sound like that kid in school who everyone hated because he/she makes the rest of the class look bad. That's OK. Actually, it was good to hear, 'cause I'm starting to feel useless at the store. I can't roll racks of clothes from the fitting rooms without it hurting my belly; carrying armloads of clothes is starting to hurt, too. I'm not supposed to answer the OSD door (on-site donations' also known as the SOB door or the OCD door) in case people have heavy stuff to donate- which they usually do. My back hurts after 3 hours standing on the floor, and bending over is... less easy than it used to be.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a very adorable boy trapped in his baby-cage who is not sleeping- it sounds like he's trying to escape. That probably means he's actually throwing all of his toys out of said baby-cage so that he'll feel justified when he starts crying in 10 minutes. I must go prepare.

Sunshine and Crankiness

Originally posted November 12/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


The sun'll come out tomorrow, bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be...

Oh, wait... it's already here. After what, five days of heavy rain? That was crazy- and none too good for our leaky porch roof, either. It stinks in there. And it's wet. And did I mention that it's stinky? But I think we can safely assume at this point that nothing is going to get fixed until the house gets sold- it'll be the new owner's problem. Worse, if the house doesn't sell (and we haven't heard anything either way yet), Clompie will lease the upper floors, and it'll never get fixed. Either way, I don't see anything happening until the spring, at which point we'll be moving- one way or another.

Yesterday there was what looked like a woodpecker out in the yard- medium sized bird, light brown with black spots and a red crown- and I think she was looking for shelter from the rain. I would've been. Apparently the space between Clompie's deck and our porch roof looked promising, so in she went... and came back out 5 seconds later, wetter than before (if that's possible). She looked totally confused, like "What the... that's the worst place EVER!" And then she was gone. I think we can safely assume that's why birds don't build nests under there, either.

But yes, today it's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood (and elsewhere), which is really nice for everyone who has today off work. I had a headache this morning (bloody air pressure), but a big pot of tea and probably too much tylenol have helped that. My only problem now is that there's this cranky little man here who won't go to bed. Yeah, it's great that he's talking more now, but it's a tough morning when the only word he wants to use is "NO!"

"Do you want some cereal?"
"no"

"Are you thirsty?"
"no" (as he reaches for his juice cup)

He has also, in the last three days, developed a strong objection to having his clothes changed. It doesn't matter what he's wearing, or what we want to put on him, whatever he's got on is best- even if it's freezing and he's completely naked. This morning I think he was telling me that it's against his religion to have is soaked diaper changed, and I had no right to put those pajamas into the wash. Then he didn't want anything else put on... and now he can't part with what he's wearing, not even his diaper. How is it that I feel like a monster for getting my kid dressed so he doesn't stink like urine all day?

On the other hand, his saying "no," isn't all bad; it seems to be making him immune to advertising (yeah, right). Last night he was watching a car commercial (his favourite kind), and it asked him, "Shouldn't your car be as exhilarating as your life?". Before I could tell him that, sadly, our lives ARE as exhilarating as out station wagon, he answered for himself- "no!".

I think we'll still try to avoid all the "Christmas" season toy commercials, though.

Soap Philosophy

Originally posted November 8/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Is it weird that my soap is giving me advice?

Yeah, we bought some bars of Ivory soap to use on Simon, to see if mild stuff will help with his eczema. They come individually wrapped, as bars of soap tend to do... and I was quite surprised to see on the wrapper this morning that my soap was telling me, "family is nature's way of providing us with friends." I don't disagree; it just struck me as weird that my soap was telling me this.

So, of course, I had to look at the other bars- I'm not one to wait on these things. So today I learned, from my soap:

"The ultimate point of life is joy." Good point.

"There's no place like home." Where have I heard that before?

"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." That one was weird, but only because the same sentence had arrived in my e-mail inbox a few days ago as the morning eye-opener. Is someone trying to tell me something? Should I stop to enjoy the fact that Simon just farted at me? Dude... sick!

Maybe it's not so weird that my soap has a philosophy. Jones soda gives me a fortune under the lid whenever I actually spend the money to buy a bottle, and my favourite cleaning products are practically reincarnated flower children. Is this what we've come to, then? We are so lacking in direction and/or inspiration in our lives that material goods and/or consumables have to provide it for us? At least they're trying, God love 'em.

Showing

Originally posted October 27/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Man, oh, man, that one's gonna bite her in the ass, just like I said it would...

People just left. It was a good showing- they came in, were wowed by the size of Gus the dog-cat, told us not to think of waking Simon up... nive people. I'd like them to buy the place. We talked about how nice the yard is, how big the kitchen is... and then on the way out they asked about heating costs. I think they mostly asked because it was so warm in here, since Clompie insisted that we turn up the heat for showings.

Ummm... what were we supposed to say? Clompie specifically told us NOT to answer questions about that stuff, so all I could say was "Holly said she'd prefer that she be the one to answer those kinds of questions." Very nicely, but ouch! How suspicious does THAT sound?

The worst part is, my honest answer would have been, "in the summer, we don't need the heat on at all. It was pretty expensive last winter, but we're going to put up some plastic sheeting and see about doing some extra weatherproofing, so it shouldn't be as bad this year."

Seriously, as a buyer, what would you rather hear?

Alright, Just GO Already!

Originally posted October 26/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Clompie has found a new way to aggravate us. She's selling the house.

I like to give credit where it's due, so I'll tell you that she's not tromping through with every Tom, Dick and Henrietta who looks at her place upstairs- just the ones who seem interested in buying. For some reason, though, after they examine the apartment, they become... un-interested. This is, of course, our fault.

In a series of emails that many of you have already been bored to death by, Clompie asked us for help in selling the place- because obviously me cleaning my tired, pregnant ASS off and tidying away as many of Simon's toys as I could wasn't "help". The suggestions?

-The apartment hasn't been warm enough when people have come through. Could we please crank the heat? I don't know how to tell her (again) that it doesn't help- the heat leaks out the windows and the walls. We're getting some of that nifty Saran-wrap-for-windows this weekend, but I'd say her best bet is showing on warm days.

-It's too dark. I actually laughed when she asked AJ if we could have all the lights on for an evening showing. Here's their conversation:
AJ: Yeah, we can put on all the lights that are working...
Clompie: What do you mean?
A: Well, that light over the kitchen sink is still broken.
C: Really? It's broken?
A: Yeah- the one K. wrote you a note about a few months ago.
C: Are you sure it's not the bulb burned out?
A: (smacks forehead and rolls eyes at phone) Nope, we thought of that- we've actually tried several different bulbs in it.
C: Weird... it worked before.

Funny how that happens- things work fine until they BREAK.

- There's too much clutter. As I said before, I've tidied most of Simon's toys right out of the living room into a bin in the kitchen or into his bedroom to make the living room look bigger. We tidy EVERYTHING up before a showing (AJ is so loving this), and I've cleared off as much as I could from the kitchen counters. Still too much stuff. Newsflash: three people live here. Three and a half, actually. Kids come with a lot of crap, not even counting what we find in his diaper... which I think he's trying to make for me right now. How sweet!. In any case, There's not a lot of space. Still, I'm trying to be accommodating- more on that coming up. (also, I know couch and chair are too big for a living room this size, but they were hand-me-downs.)

- You seem to have a shelf in front of the closet that has the water heater and the electrical panel in it. Yes, yes we do. There's NO storage space in the bathroom, so we improvise and keep towels, hair stuff, make-up, shoe polish, first-aid junk, etc. on said corner shelf. When we need to adjust the water temperature or plug in the sump pump, we move the shelf. We also move it for anyone who's looking at the apartment. Apparently this is a problem, though. I'm at the point where I just want to make her happy (and mostly to get the place sold), so yesterday I took down the shelf. I found weird places for our junk. It doesn't look as good, but there's a bit more space, and you can IMMEDIATELY access said closet at any time.

- There are blankets over the windows. Yes, there are. We have reasons, and they are two-fold: we don't want to spend money to get actual blinds for a place we're not staying in past the spring (one way or another), and they provide some insulation. The problem is that Clompie replaced one of those windows a year and a half ago, so potential buyers HAVE to be able to see it. I'll take the blankets down for showings, sure. I might even have the window bedecked with flowers or invest in some flashing neon arrows to properly showcase its relative importance.

Here's the kicker: I made it clear that we want to help in any way we can, HOWEVER... we are not going to lie if someone asks us a question about the place. When a guy asked me whether snow was a problem, I told him the truth. When someone said to AJ, "wow, this place must cost a fortune to heat!" and asked whether the bathtub faucet always drips like that, he said yes. So now all inquiries about anything are to be directed to Clompie herself- and she'll be along on all showings. Yes, folks, the selling agent, selling her own house, will be shadowing every. Single. Viewing. And presumably lying about stuff, since we can't. Or won't. And that pisses me off. Eh, it'll come back to bite her in the ass, anyway.

And finally, I know I'm no Martha Stewart, by any stretch of the imagination. But I've actually been keeping up on the dishes, washing the floors, scrubbing the tub, vacuuming, Febrezing (even though it gives me a stuffy nose), making the bed, etc. Like I said, AJ's loving this. And she had the NERVE, the BALLS, the GUMPTION to say "let me know if you need to borrow my vacuum cleaner".

This process has been good for me, actually. I've been polite and accommodating, to say the least. But you know what? I let myself get mad. Because when I do something like this for someone, here or at work or wherever, I do my best. It's not my fault the frigging house isn't selling; if someone had done repairs and/or maintenance as we've suggested, most of these things wouldn't be a problem right now. Don't blame me or my housekeeping skills. Being mad, even for a few minutes, was weird for me... for most of my life, I' haven't been able to be angry. Upset, sad, depressed, guilted-out, yes. Mad? Nope. It's a step forward, I think.

Now if you'll excuse me, Simon and I need to go tidy up his room.* Again.



* Simon's the only one enjoying this process- he thinks it's great that new people come and he gets to show them his room. And every one of his toys.

Slut-oween

Originally posted October 14/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



Halloween makes me cry. Not because I'm scared of the spooky ghosts and monsters- it's because it has become an occasion for the sluttification of little girls.

I don't give two farts if a grown woman wants to buy and wear the "Naughty Fairy", "Sexy Witch" or "Bad-Ass Nun" costumes we have at the store. Actually, it's hard to find a pre-made costume for women that isn't all about the sex- to paraphrase "Mean Girls", Halloween is an excuse to dress like a slut without being called a slut. Have fun, kids.

But this year we have a line geared toward teens, which means it's "tweens" buying the stuff, and it's S-L-U-T-T-Y. And there's no "in a good way" about it. Crotch-high skirts, down-to-there cleavage (not that they generally have any), fishnet tights... bear in mind, guys, that 11-year olds are buying this shite.




Oops- scratch that. THEIR PARENTS are buying it for them, and not raising any objections to their kids (and yes, "tweens" are still kids) dressing like skinny, underdeveloped whores.

The boys' costumes, incedentally, do not include "sexy" cops, "hot" firemen, or anything of the sort. Just cops, just firemen, just ninjas, just cowboys.

Little girls can be cowgirls too, of course. Yeah, there's a lovely pink number for 4-5 year olds with a hat, and a vest... and a thigh-high skirt with ruffles... it looks like something they wear in the creepiest of beauty pageants, and the kid on the packaging is all tarted up in thicker make-up than what I've ever worn at Halloween. VEEERY practical for rustling cattle, to say the least!

And the Barbie costumes... PUKE! Skin-tight, every one. Bare midriffs are the norm.

Can I scream in frustration now? CARE TO JOIN ME??? How the HELL are these kids supposed to grow up seeing themselves as anything but sex objects, or believing that there's value in their hearts and minds if this is what we're buying them to dress up in? And don't even get me started on the everyday clothing available for elementary-school aged girls...



I'm not proud to admit this, but I sighed with relief when I found out we were having another boy. It's one thing we won't have to deal with. Of course, we have the crushing responsibility of teaching our boys to respect girls and women in a culture that doesn't teach them to respect themselves, don't we? To all you moms of girls out there... actually, all of you who I know personally are going to deal with this very well, I think. I can't see one of you going, "Honey, let me help you hike up your skirt a little..."

And to any men who might think that it's OK for a 6-year old girl to dress all sexy... if you're enjoying it, please get help. Seriously. You have a problem.

Quotiness

Originally posted September 28/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


It's been over a year since my dear friends K & H came to visit us. They put up with sleeping in an alrernately cool-but-damp/ hot-as-heck-but-dry room (Simon's) and getting hauled around town squished in beside a huge car seat, but it was good times.

I just found the little notebook where we wrote down the funny things that we said while they were here. Not ALL of them- that would have been exhausting. But the stuff we actually remembered to write down. I never would've remembered if we hadn't- and now I'm laughing my arse off, out loud, reading them. Simon has no idea what I'm laughing at, and he looks quite concerned.

In the interest of sharing the hilarity, as well as having this stuff somewhere that's less likely to get lost than that notebook is, I'm posting the funnies here. You probably had to be there for most of it- sorry if you weren't. For those of us who were- enjoy.

"I'm already crying with tears!"
"I'm already dying with... death." (Kim and me)

"Basket of aaaapplllles... Amen!" (Kim)

"I've never had Fun" (me, referring to Jones Soda flavour)

"Is it wrong that I just put him to bed with a block on his head?" (me)

"That's all we had. Balls and meat. I mean, bread." (Kim)

"I think lesbians are kind of one way or the other; they're either vegetariansor they only eat red meat... ... ... eeeew!" (Hayley)

"Kim, can you cut me up an apple and NOT eat any?" (Hayley)

"I love life at sea!" (Kim, 5 minutes after leaving the wharf)

"Kim, you have mascara under your eyes."
"Oh, well- that's life at sea!" (Hayley and Kim)

"OH MY GOD! IT'S A WHALE! A WHALE! Oh... nope, that's a bird." (Kim)

"Aww- now it smells like Hawiian Ginger and fart." (Kim)

"Back off! Back off! Minr your business! Mind your business!" (Hayley)

"Charlie, I'm so glad you love me even though I'm not so good with your species." (Kim)

"Grande Ejacu-Latte" (Hayley)

"Stupid red car... I mean, orange truck." (Kim)

"Usually I'm really flat... when I'm singing." (me)

"Stop flailing, retard!" (Hayley)

"And when I say right, I mean wrong" (me)

"And by cave, I mean rock" (Kim)

"After we eat, can you ty to do me? Some braids?" (Kim)




"Guys, sometimes I just... (long pause)... lose my train of thought." (Kim)




I miss you peoples!

Jolly Holidays!

Originally posted September 28/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


I was just checking out the official "holidays" for September- not actually holidays, since I don't get the day off, but whatever. You know, National Cancer Awareness Month, that kind of thing. Oh, and of course they're American "holidays"... still, it's interesting to see what people are celebrating/ raising awareness of/ preventing at any given time.

Why does it strike me as really funny that Suicide Prevention Week (9-15)almost exactly coincides with Line Dance Week(10-15)? Is that really helping the former cause at all?

I guess it's good that National Singles Week (15-21) is the same as National Clean Hands Week (16-22), 'cause that's only gonna help your chances there, right? Unfortunately, that's also National Love Your Files week- yes, files- which might not be a great passion to reveal on your first date...

The Awareness weeks are fun... the celebration/ remembrance days are more fun, though:

Sept. 1: Chicken Boy's Day
Sept. 5: Be Late For Something Day
Sept. 9: Wonderful Weirdoes Day
Sept. 15: Wife Appreciation Day (How'd I miss that one?)
Sept. 19: Talk Like A Pirate Day; also the opening of the General Assembly the UN. YARR!
Sept. 22: Elephant Appreciation Day
'' Fish Amnesty Day... also National Hunting and Fishing Day. Huh?
Sept. 24: Punctuation day
Sept. 28: Fish Tank Floorshow Night (... no, I don't know what that means, either)


and finally, Sept: 29: National Attend Your Grandchild's Birthday Day. Which is great... if your grandchild's birthday is on September 29. All other grandchildren can just suck it up.

Hairball Logic

Originally posted September 25/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



I've found some really interesting stuff while I've been searching groups on facebook. My favourite so far is "Nicole Richie Isn't Pregnant- She Just Ate A Grape". Not many members, but it's the best group name I've seen.

There are weird groups, too. There are at least three anti-abortion groups with very similar names, which are still confusing the you-know-what out of me, even after thinking it over for a few days. (I know, I need a life).

Here's the idea that is sure to bring the pro-choice faction to its (their?) knees:

If it's not a baby, you're not pregnant. Therefore you do not need an abortion.

Am I the only one who reads that and goes, "Huh?" I'm thinking there's a flaw in that logic somewhere, probably somewhere around the time when the zygote/embryo/fetus comes into the world and the mom goes, "Aw, shit- I thought I wasn't pregnant!" It's fuzzier than dryer lint.

Seriously, folks, is that the best we can do? Way to make pro-lifers sound like a bunch of morons. I hate the idea of anyone having an abortion as much as anyone out there, but I don't think anyone's going about ending it the right way. In fact, after a lot of consideration, I've decided that I don't think pushing to make it illegal is the way we should be going. Shocking, I know. But here's my idea, crazy though it is: Maybe, just maybe, we should be trying to make sure women with low incomes have access to reliable methods of birth control. Maybe we should get over ourselves and accept the fact that teenagers, college students, twenty-somethings, whoever- they're going to have SEX. That's not to say that we shouldn't teach them about respecting themselves and other people, or even advise them that, hey guys, the best way to not get pregnant is to not have sex. But abstinence-only sex ed in schools really pisses me off. Back in the day, when kids weren't taught anything about the subject until (maybe) the night before their weddings, there were still young 'uns out there getting frisky, and prostitution's not called the world's olders profession for nothing. It happens, and if people don't know how to protect themselves/ their partners/ prospective kids, what happens? Abortions. Maybe when we can keep people from getting pregnant "by assident", it won't be such a big issue.*

I also think there needs to be more social support for women who decide to go ahead and have their babies. We're so concerned with keeping the poor kids alive until they're born, but there's not enough being done about what happens after they get here. We can be pro-life and still care about the terrified women who weren't planning on being moms yet, who are facing a new, scary life they weren't expecting. If we want these kids to be born, we need to be prepared to have daycare funding available so their moms don't have to drop out of school or give up working. So they don't have to resign themselves to a lower standard of living because they decided not to kill their babies. Being a mom is hard enough when you're married and have another person's income to rely on. I can't imagine doing it on my own.

If those things happened, maybe some day abortions could be seen as a tragedy, a nearly impossible decision parents might have to make if the baby/ mother's life is in danger. But as long as we have a "you made your bed now lie in it" attitude toward women who choose to (gasp!) enjoy sex outside of a stable potential-family structure and make it easier for them to not create a "non-baby" to "not be pregnant" with (?), it's not gonna happen.

That's my rant for the day. Sorry.



* I read once about a very nice pregnancy-crisis centre that tried to show women alternatives to abortion. I thought that was great, until I found out that they won't refer a woman to a doctor who can prescribe birth-control pills, because "she shouldn't be having sex, anyway." 'Cause THAT'S gonna help...

WTF?! to the power of 10

Originally posted September 18/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



I'm no stranger to weird dreams. At least once a week I wake up and go, "Well, that was odd..." But last night? That beat them all.

I wish I could remember more, and I wish I could write it out in a way that would a) make sense, and b) convey the full oddness of what was going on. You know how dreams are, though. Everything makes sense while it's happening in your head, but when you wake up, it's all garbled. But darn it, I'm going to try, 'cause last night was so freaky I was actually thinking- while I was dreaming- "I've GOT to remember this!"

There were a few unusual things right from the start. My dreams are normally set in any of a few regular settings (which have nothing to do with their real life counterparts): high school, university, backstage at a play, a mall, a church that's shaped like a ship, a car. This one was in my bedroom in a house that resembled the first one we lived in in Oakville (ie- bedroom down the hall from my parents, on the second floor). It was also strange that neither AJ nor Simon made an appearance; Simon has been in every dream I've had since he was born, even high-school dreams. Try explaining THAT to the teachers...

So I was in bed. The first thing I remember is going to shut the blinds, and not being able to see if there was anyone outside. Naturally, I made a horrible face and yelled something incomprehensible to scare off anyone who might be there. Wouldn't you? Then there was this rabbit at the window... I'm not sure how he got in, but there was someone dead (an animal) who we ended up burying in a hole in my mattress. I think there was a dog involved, as well... I have no idea where any of that came from.

Then I looked out the window again, and it was daytime. In the yard behind ours, I could see three dolls- dead dolls. I actually know where that part came from- the "Dead Doll" is a costume we have in at work. They were really horrible looking, too. And they kept throwing their heads up in the air to look in my window, and it was really freaking me out. So I went to get my parents. (I have no idea how old I was in this dream, BTW) My dad looked out the window, but it just looked like some kids having a picnic- those dead dolls are crafty little things. He went back to bed, but mom stayed with me. The dead dolls came back... but there were more of them, and they were doing some kind of cult ritual/party thing in their yard. Scary. THEN they all turned into colourful bird/butterfly things, and some got into the room before we could shut the window.

(I realize that this makes no sense to you, and I am in no way conveying the freakiness of all of this. I'm sorry.)

I'm a little fuzzy about what happened after that, but somehow we (mom and I) ended up in the bed, surrounded by chaos, and oh, the devil was there. He was large and blue and puffy, but somehow we understood that this was, in fact Satan- and we needed a lawyer. I don't know why, exactly... I called Chris. He's the only lawyer I know. In spite of the fact that I was babbling on the phone about dead dolls, he came over to help out. And really, if I was going to call anyone to help out with this kind of situation in real life (?), it would be him.

I don't know how to explain what happened after that... I'm absolutely certain that there was a musical number and dancing involved, but I can't remember what the song was, and it's driving me nuts. For such a puffy guy, Satan was pretty light on his feet; it was weird. WEIRD.

And again, I have no segue to the next part of the dream- it was supposed to be connected, but I think it was actually a seperate dream in which I was remembering the first one. The Sopranos were involved, and somebody blew up a car when he was being transported to jail or something. No one was hurt. I really hate driving dreams, though- the cars NEVER work properly. Especially the brakes. A rolling stop is the best I can do, and I can't tell you how often I get pulled over.

It's hard to remember anything after that, except for AJ's alarm going off and scaring the crap out of me, as it does every morning. There are days when I actually jump.

You know, I have these long, involved dreams all the time, and I'm at a point where I can often direct events, or at least my abilities in them, when I realize I'm dreaming... and then I wonder why I wake up exhausted.

Is this normal? Do you all have dreams like this? Or maybe you do, but you don't remember?


Oh, hey, I just remembered that there was another dream last night where I was supposed to get a makeover, but I had to have a picture of Simon, and I couldn't find one, so I was late getting back, and they thought I wasn't coming, but I was still going to pay the $38,000 fee because they went to so much trouble... It was in a hotel, another one of my common settings.

I'm not normal.

Goodbye, Charlie's Brain- We'll Miss You

Originally posted September 17/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Well, it's finally happened. Charlie has lost his last marble. He's completely gone over the edge. We fear for our lives.

You think I'm joking, don't you? Did I ever tell you our theory that Charles suffers from paranoid schizophrenia? He obviously has auditory hallucinations, and he seems to be keeping a close eye on things in the yard THAT AREN'T THERE. He's becoming increasingly jumpy, to the point where he only comes out of the bedroom most days to eat and use the crappe chateau. The tiniest noise sends him leaping 3 feet in the air. It's funny, but I feel bad for him.

Now he's sleeping on my head, like a furry hat. I don't mind that so much- he did it when I was pregnant with Simon, too (he totally knows). But he's now taking baths on my head while I'm trying to sleep, and it's just rude. It's kind of like a crazy person doing inappropriate things in public places; it happens, and all I can do is toss him off the pillow.* Then he sits in the window, watching the yard... and falls on my head while I'm asleep. This results in him getting tangles in the blanket that's serving as a curtain in that window, and I have to untangle him. When he wants back up, he puts his paws up on the window ledge and spends a minute tap-dancing on my hair before he jumps up.

He's nuts.

Yesterday we couldn't find him. He wasn't in the window, on my pillow, under the couch, in the kitchen or at the crappe chateau. He wasn't stuck in Simon's room. He wasn't making any noise... and there was no way that he could have slipped out the door. The most reasonable explanation was that he had gone so batty that his brain waves had actually vibrated him off to another dimension.

Turned out he was in my dresser. I liked the other dinension thing better. Maybe he got there THROUGH the dresser...

At least he's out of the bedroom today. Good for you, Puss! Of course, I keep finding him in weird places: the bathroom sink, sitting in front of the microwave... and he looks totally freaked out. Still, I'm calling it progress. Poor Puss.



* Please note that the Canadian Mental Health Association does not recommend tossing people with mental health issues off of pillows.

Shut Up and... What?

Originally posted September 15/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Have you all heard Rihanna*'s new song, "Shut Up and Drive"? I like it. It's fun. It's catchy. When it comes on the radio, it makes me drive fast.

But I have this sneaking suspicion, guys... that the song is not about driving. The first clue was the fact that she describes herself as a car when, in fact (get this) she's not a car. I don't want to shock anyone who thought they were just listening to a song about fast cars, but I think this song just might be about... sex. There. I said it.

OK, so everyone had already picked up on that. I just have two things to say: First, good for you on being able to go from 0 to 60 in 3.5, honey- I'm jealous. I, apparently, am an old station wagon, not a Mustang.

Second thing: Whether the song's about cars or sex, maybe encouraging the dudes to "run all the lights" isn't a great idea. See, either way, red light means red light. Stop. Halt. Got it? Guys don't need to be told that it's sexy to run a red light, and girls definitely don't need to be told it's ok for them to do so.

That's my pop music lecture for the day. Seriously, though, fun song.

Hey, Mrs... Didn't I Ride You at the Zoo?

Originally posted September 11/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



And once again, I have had many things to write about over the last 5 days; I just haven't done it. I don't know what's going on with me- normally I can't shut up. And I do try.

But I have to tell you guys something funny. OK, some of you already know. A few days ago, a one J. Morgan observed that Amy Winehouse looks like a camel. And you know what? She really kind of does.

It's nothing against her; lots of people look like animals. I was once watching a dog show on TV, and I thought the Old English Sheepdog bore a striking resmblance to David Suzuki. And I saw a Boxer at the park that looked EXACTLY like Samuel L. Jackson. It was actually frightening.

But "she looks like a camel"? That's just hilarity right there. I knew she looked familiar. I think her charming husband is trying to become more like her- did anyone see the picture of him shooting a snot-rocket out of his nose (where else?) into the sidewalk? Just like camel spit. If you didn't see the picture, you're obviously better than I am at resisting the pull of celebrity gossip magazines. Don't go looking for it.

Looking like a camel's not so bad. At least she's not (yet) associated, as so many famous young women are, with a certain part of a camel's anatomy... when they can be bothered to wear underpants at all. Sometimes, the pants are just too tight. *shudder!*

I wonder if she'd do cigarette ads?

Yesterday

Originally posted September 6/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Two nights ago, I tucked a baby into bed. Now I have a two-year old. Nothing has changed, except that his tiger has more chocolate frosting on it, right next to the smear of strawberry jam I haven't been able to wash out yet. He's the same, sweet Simon he was two days ago; right now he's quite happy driving his dinky cars all over the coffee table. He's quite excited about the 6 new ones he got at Value Village yesterday. He's not hard to please, that one.

I think he had a good day yesterday. Well, aside from having to get up early to get hauled off to the hospital so some lady could put messy jelly on mommy's belly and we could all look at a fuzzy grey tv show with no sound. BO-RING! But then we got to go to McDonald's for breakfast, which probably evened things out for the morning.

Yeah, the ultrasound was fine. I wasn't wrong in being worried that I was too small to be 5 months along... but apparently I'm just fine for exactly 16 weeks, which we are today. I knew that date had to be wrong! So the due date has been changed; we're now looking at around February 21st. Wait, something else happens around the 21st.... oh, right, MY BIRTHDAY, on the 23rd. It figures, though; my family has an insane number of February birthdays, not to mention the birthdays and anniversaries of several friends. Some day we'll get organized and just have a massive party for all of us... and maybe instead of buying presents for everyone so soon after Christmas, we'll each just buy ourselves one really wicked thing and show it off at the party. Sweeeeeet.

ANYWAY, back to Simon's birthday. After breakfast, we all came home and had a nap. Even AJ, and he does NOT nap. He was tired from jogging and using his 1-week pass for GoodLife. I'm so proud of how he's sticking to his exercise program, getting ready to try for the RCMP. And can I just say, once more, how hot that man would (will) look in a uniform? Hummina-hummina-hummina...

What was I saying? Oh, nap. Then lunch. Then Wal-Mart, where Simon cried after his daddy dropped us off; Simon's rather attached to Dad-Dad these days, which is killing Dad-Dad's arms and back, but he can't say no to his boy. Then there were more tears after we wouldn't pay $10.00 for a Thomas book (he's WAY into trains now), but Simon DID get a new Wiggles DVD for his birthday, and a puzzle, and the aforementioned cars. Value Village was the next stop after Wal-Mart, actually; we had to go so the birthday boy could see his friends there. He was wearing the birthday shirt my mom made for him- too cute!

Oh, wait... we got Booster Juice in there somewhere, too. It was yum.

Then home, then more nap for tired boy and his mom, then French Toast (liberty toast?!) for supper- one of Mr. Simon's favourites. The best part of the day was last night, though. Mr. Jordan and Mrs. Jennifer and Chickey&Jenn came over for cake and presents... and to watch the Wiggles. OK, so only Mr. Jordan and Simon watched the Wiggles... and danced.*

It was a good night. Simon had fun, and then he went to bed without complaining (except about brushing his teeth; it's an issue). It's too bad it was a week-night, 'cause I could've stayed up all night with our friends. They're a good bunch- and it doesn't hurt that they love our kid, either. :)

Dogs Drool

Originally posted August 19/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



Dogs are gross. I hate to be the one to say it, and I apologize to all dog lovers out there, but come on. Love them though we may, and sweet though they may be, sometimes they're just nasty.

And this is nothing against any one dog, particularly the one who's staying with us right now. She's a sweet little thing, very affectionate, and very attached to me. I'm flattered. But I'm being reminded of all the things I really don't miss about having a dog.

Like, for example, the love of what are known in my family as "shit-bits", the instant snack from the litter box. I have yet to meet a dog who would turn down a chance to eat cat poo, and that, my friends, is gross. Who else eats the feces of another species? HA! That rhymes! Sweet. Anyway, it's not just the fact that they eat it; it's the fact that after they do, they want to come and give you a biiiiiig, sloppy kiss on the face. Or the hand. Or the foot. They're not particular.

Worse, AJ's dog that he had when we got married (China) used to go out in the yard, do her business, come inside for a while, and then go back out so she could eat it. SHE ATE HER OWN POO. At least she wasn't real "licky", but still. Eeeeeeewww. Who does that?!!

While we're on back-end business, let's discuss the farting. Some dogs are worse than others; bulldogs are notorious farters, and the aforementioned eater-of-her-own-poo (a bulldog mix) was no exception. I was thrilled to move in with her, let me tell you. Even a relatively non-gassy dog lets off a good one a few times a day. Convenient if you want someone to blame it on... gross otherwise.

Oh, and there are other smells. Burps are nice, especially after a snack of shit-bits. Dogs' fur is smelly if they don't have baths very often- especially older dogs, who tend to have skin problems. And I may have the smelliest cat in the world (I'm pretty sure I do), but his crap is, at best, on par with dog poo on the smell-o-metre.* And have you ever smelled a dog with leaking anal glands? Possibly the worst smell on Earth.

There's lots more, but (lest you get bored) I'll only mention one more thing: THE INCESSANT LICKING. Slurp... slurp... slurp... It's one of the nastiest sounds on the planet, dog tongue and flapping lips, usually licking either ass or asociated regions. The worst was with Otis, our last dog; he had huge jowls that almost made sucking noises when he licked himself. And when he licked his boy bits, he often got a... well, something else that convinced me that dogs are gross. Even a nice little dog like Two-Face can drive me bonkers lying on the end of the bed at night, licking and licking and licking and... GAAAAAAH!!!

So why do we love them? Well, I can't say I love dogs in general, but I do on an individual basis. I guess it's the whole "unconditional love" thing, the wagging tail when you get home from a rough day.

I'll still take a cat pretty much any day.




*Did you like the Canadian spelling there?

Yeah, My Cat's a Loser

Originally posted August 14/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"

Prophecy

Originally posted August 10/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



"And Behold, the Loud One shall bear a son,
and his name shall be called 'Thump'. And
though Thump shall grow to be a small man,
his loudness shall miraculously surpass that
of his mother; he shall be heavy of foot, though
soft of voice.

He shall be so loud that thou wilt think he is
bowling in the living room. This shall be a sign
unto you that it is absolutely, definitely,
no question time to move."



Mmmmm... nope, we must have missed that particular prophecy. And yet it has all come to pass. I really hope Thump Stomperson isn't planning on staying here the whole 2 weeks Clompie is away. We were so looking forward to the peace and quiet, but now the clomping is actually louder. At least his talking is quiet(er). And he's not doing it over Simon's room- just mine.

I did, in fact, think he was bowling earlier today. It's funny- by the time Clompie gets back, I'll actually be happy to see her.

"Hooray, it's the lesser of two evils!!!"

Loudest Insomniacs EVER.

Originally posted August 9/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


We have made a discovery: there may be a genetic component to Clompie Stomperson's loudness. She's gone for a few weeks- I know, we were devastated, too. Riiiight- we were looking forward to two weeks of peace and quiet. Then her son came yesterday and mowed the lawn. Nice guy. But he stayed the night upstairs.

At 11:30 last night, he was still stomping around- at least he was in the living room, over our room, and not in the office over Simon's. At 1:30 he was stomping around the living room.

At 5:30 this morning, when Simon woke up (and then went back to sleep), I could hear loud footsteps overhead.

Not only is this family loud, THEY DON'T SLEEP. Ever. Clompie's the same way- we have no idea if or when she sleeps. It's insane.

Nothing against the guy, but I kind of hope he's not house-sitting...

Life's a Beach

Originally posted July 31/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



We did it. Yesterday Simon and I got into the car and went out to Witless Bay to go to the beach. It was mostly because the house smelled like cat poo, but any excuse is a good excuse if it means going to the beach.

I hadn't realized that there's actually a sandy beach there instead of just rocks- that was a nice surprise. Simon had a ball letting the freezing cold waves come up over his feet- he didn't run away once. In fact, a few times I had to hold on to him to keep him from running after them. How do you explain to a 2-year old that the ocean is fun, but dangerous? I guess you can't, really- you just let him explore... as long as he's holding your hand.

After we did that for a while, Simon decided that he wanted to put rocks in the water. He started with the ones that were sitting right there, wet and shiny from the waves; then he moved on to running back up the beach to get dry ones and bringing them back to toss in. Of course, he couldn't throw just any rocks in the water. I have no idea what his criteria were, but he had a very careful selection process. Some of them were big, and he had to use two hands to toddle them back to the ocean. Some were small, and he could carry one in each hand. Some he picked up and then put back because, for some reason, they weren't quite right. The selection process was very serious business, but he laughed when he tossed them.

By the time we left, Simon had wet shorts, and I was covered in sand. Good times. Of course, he didn't want to go, but we had to get back for nap time, and then go and pick AJ up from work. We'll go back soon, though.

Have a Larf

Originally posted July 30/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



My mom sent me this the other day, and I almost fell over laughing. I hope you like it, too!


The Funeral

A cardiologist died and was given an elaborate funeral. A huge
heart covered in flowers stood behind the casket during the
service.

Following the eulogy, the heart opened, and the casket rolled
inside. The heart then closed, sealing the doctor in the
beautiful heart forever.

At that point, one of the mourners burst into laughter. When
all eyes stared at him, he said, "I'm sorry, I was just thinking
of my own funeral.........I'm a gynecologist."

The proctologist fainted.

Flea Fly Flo Fly

Originally posted July 27/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



My Dog Has Fleas... OK, actually, it's my cat, but there's no song about that. We call him "The Dog" anyway, 'cause he's a pretty freakin' big cat. And he thinks he's a lap dog.

Yes, Gustifer has the fleas. Poor guy. Wait- what am I saying? Poor us! Gus doesn't seem to mind; in fact, I suspect he's harbouring them like tiny fugitives- they may be his pets. I, on the other hand, seem to have a few bites on me.

Gus has got the thickest fur, which makes it quite difficult to find the little pests, and I refuse to put a flea collar on him or use skin treatments- Simon cuddles our cats too much. That stuff is POISON, and I'd rather not have my baby getting it on his hands, which inevitably end up in his mouth. Call me crazy...

So we're sticking with relentless combing with the very-fine-toothed comb I picked up at the dollar store. Gus gets a little angry when I try to brush his belly, but he's such an attention whore that he comes back 10 seconds later for more. Yesterday I got six fleas; today I found three. Have you ever had to kill those suckers? They're like the thing that wouldn't die.* The only way I've figured out is to pin 'em down and pop their teeny heads off with my thumbnail. Gross, but effective. Then all the fur, flea poop, dead bugs and what I assume are egg cases (or possibly more poop) gets tied up tight in a plastic bag and tossed.

The good news is that I haven't seen a flea on Simon's head in a week. The bad news is that a week ago, I saw a flea on Simon's head. (Didn't see that comin', did you?) I'm hoping that if I keep brushing and getting rid of the garbage, we'll be flea-free soon. Oh, and yes, I vacuum and empty the canister right away. Not as much as I should, but it gets done.


*I'm tired. Leamme alone.

BV and CB

Originally posted July 26/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Simon has this Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood video that he loves. It's got 2 episodes on it: one at the circus, and one where they have a Bass Violin festival in the Land of Make-Believe. We just watched the second one, and I started laughing so hard I almost choked. I had never noticed that, at the Bass Violin Festival, the banner over the stage reads "BV FESTIVAL" The ladies out there are more likely to know why that's funny; for anyone who doesn't, BV is usually short for bacterial vaginosis, and that's friggin' gross.

It's like when people refer to the town of Corner Brook as CB- my first thought is always "colon blow", 'cause in university we called it CB. Actually, in university, CB could also have been "chicken burger," which led (if I remember correctly) to one conversation in which someone got really confused about what, exactly, Kim had for lunch. Sick.

Totally Jinxed It

Originally posted July 26/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



OK, so I spoke too soon... but I said I wouldn't write any more about that, so let's just move on, shall we?*

I think I got to sleep at a good time last night- I don't really remember. I know I stayed up later than I had planned to because I found a bunch of Martha Stewart Living and Real Simple magazines I hadn't hacked to pieces yet. It's not a malicious thing- it's a dream thing. See, I don't have room to keep all those magazines around, but they have so much nice stuff in them... good things, if you will. Things that I hope will some day be a part of my life. Alright, so I know I'm never going to be the type who sets out an elaborate brunch with a selection of fresh-squeezed juices for weekend guests, but I can pretend, right? Houses in the country, huge gardens, heirloom chicken breeds, big, quiet libraries, matching (new) furniture, flower arrangements, hand-made gifts- I even cut out colours I really like. And the fact that every room in every picture is neat as a pin would indicate that I also want a maid, since I've never been able to keep up with that crap. Oh, and FOOD- Christmas dinners, pies, cookies, seafood, the occasional well-presented salad- and I do keep the recipes, just in case. So that was my evening- magazines, scissors, and the end of "Wedding Crashers", which we started on Sunday.

More dreams after that, but not of the "if I won the lottery" variety. Sleep dreams. I've never had "normal" dreams- those are AJ's territory. Oh, HE gets to meet famous people and hang out with them in his dreams; he gets to go out with the girls on Friends (and presumably bang them- I didn't ask). I get to dream about work, and how we had this plan to use bales of used clothing to smuggle booze over the border in case prohibition returned. And then some Russian border guards (?) demanded that we empty our pockets and surrender our Chap Sticks before we came back to Canada. And there was a boat... Anyway, I don't think I actually got a lot of good sleep last night.

I'm going back to bed.



*though I'd like to thank the very helpful guys at work who a) offered to get me a bucket and b) suggested sticking my head out the side door, since it was closer than the bathroom.

Good News For Me (and You!)

Originally posted July 25/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"




I have such good news for you. This may be the last time you endure my complaining about vomit, at least for the time being. Aren't you SO happy?!!

Why? 'Cause I only did it ONCE yesterday. Still queasy as hell, but it stayed down, and THAT, my friends, is progress.

That means it's time for me to post The Barf Ratings. This is maybe the grossest idea I've ever had, but really, what else are you thinking about when you're face-down in the can?* The Barf Ratings contain my vast body of knowledge concerning exactly what tastes terrible, bad, and slightly less bad coming back up- though none of it's pleasant, really. This is just my opinion...

"BEST" (comparatively speaking... bleh)
-fruit, esp. watermelon
-cinnamon toast and orange juice
-toast with strawberry jam

"NOT THE WORST, BUT NASTY ANYWAY"
- pizza
-cheerios (honey nut)
-melba toast
-tea

"MAKES ME WANT TO BARF SOME MORE"
-turkey dinner
-clamato juice
-sandwiches
-KD
-saltines
-nothing (empty stomach)


"WORST EVER"
- not from experience, but just to keep things in perspective, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that throwing up gravel, broken glass, raw fish or hypodermic needles would be waaaaay worse than anything that came out of me this week. See? That makes me feel much better.



So that's that. I can almost promise that this is the last entry about barf, vomit, spewing, upchucking, praying to the goddess Porcelina**, etc, at least until I write about someone else's...




*Except, maybe, for "He did this to me. HE DID THIS TO ME!"... but I'm saving that one.

** thanks to Jenny for reminding me of that one. :)

Simon and the Dumb Butterfly

Originally posted July 24/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


It hasn't all been barf and gagging the last few days; mostly, but not all.

In fact, we've been having some really nice weather (in between the rainy days). A few evenings ago AJ, Simon and I had some time to hang out in the back yard. Simon was puttering around, pushing his cars and trucks through the grass, drawing on the rocks with sidewalk chalk. We took out a big blanket to sit... and I tried to find the camera.

I found it, but not in time to get pictures of my boys. When I went back outside, AJ was lying on his back. So Was Simon- on top of his dad. They were stacked up on the blanket, watching the clouds blow by. "Ooooooooh!" said Simon, pointing at the sky. He tried to say cloud... he got to saying "cccc" when he saw one. Not bad.

Then he got distracted by a butterfly. There were two of them flitting around the yard; one of them was particularly fond of our blanket... and us. I don't think it was the brightest butterfly in the sky, and I have a feeling that natural selection might have a nasty surprise in store for the little guy. Not because he kept landing on us- that was kind of fun. He'd land on the blanket, sit for a minute, and then take off for a spin around the yard with his friend. Then he landed on AJ's leg... and my butt... Simon thought it was hilarious. He likes butterflies. He likes to try to touch butterflies. Most of them fly away- this one, not so much. Simon touched it a few times; I think he was more surprised than the butterfly was!

So that was our evening. I had to come in when someone put lighter fluid or something on their BBQ- the stink was gag-tacular. Simon was a bit more reluctant to come in- the only time he's actually happy to come in the house is if there's a bath waiting.

I don't know why people are still complaining about the weather. This is summer in NL, people- it rains a lot, but we get the most beautiful days in between. Enjoy it while it lasts. At least it's not snowing.

Yakkity-Yak (Warning: Grossness ahead)

I HATE THROWING UP.

Is there anything less dignified than sticking your face in a toilet bowl for the purpose of heaving up perfectly good food? Don't answer that... I just remembered what happens at the hospital. In any case, it's disgusting.

Somebody needs to tell this fetus that the morning sickness is supposed to be getting BETTER, not worse. Up until this week, I wasn't actually throwing up. Yesterday I tossed everything I ate in the morning; just now, same thing.

On the positive side of things, my toilet has never been cleaner. Darned if I'm sticking my face in a bowl that smells like... well... toilet cleaner is preferable, if not pleasant.

And for the record, puke being a lovely shade of pink and tasting like watermelon does not make the experience any more pleasant.


* * * * * * *


Other than that, I'm... well, not fine, but I'm surviving. I saw my "brain doctor" yesterday (people get so uncomfortable if I say psychiatrist, shrink, etc... I'm not crazy, just sick). My assessment put me at Severe Depression, which is unfortunate- I was doing so well. The good news is that my meds aren't hurting the baby; good thing, since we're past the most dangerous part now, anyway. Probably. We're still not sure how old he/she is.

Hot flashes- check. Exhaustion- check. I'll live. It all just makes it hard to be excited, you know? At least I've got AJ- he gave my tummy a goodnight kiss last night. It was sweet. :)

Stop and Smell the Chlamydia... No, Wait...

Originally posted July 19/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


Bedtimes are becoming difficult. Not for me- I can go to sleep any time, pretty much anywhere these days. Simon's not doing so well. Since he has decided that any time between 8:30 and 10 pm is "Daddy and Simon Time", AJ has been missing out on a lot of his own down-time. We're experimenting with getting Simon to nap later in the day (to prevent over-tiredness), keeping him up a bit later so he gets some extra Daddy time... we'll see.

Last night it was getting close to Simon's old bed time, and we were in the yard. Simon was getting bored, so I suggested we all go for a walk; it was a gorgeous evening, and we've got to grab those when we can. We packed up water (for me and AJ) and water-juice (for Simon) and strolled down to Mundy Pond. That's a beautiful spot; if I can't live near Bowring Park, I'll take this.

Most of the time my current sensitivity to smells is a pain in the ass (I had to leave work early yesterday because the smell from the roof was making me barf), but last night I actually got to enjoy the smell of the clover that's blooming all over the fields and the wild roses by the pond. I was trying to identify the flowers we saw; there was one that I know starts with a "c", but darned if I could think of anything but "chlamydia". But really, wouldn't that be a nice name for a flower? Forsythia, foxglove, rhododendron, chlamydia... but I'm reasonably sure that's not it.

Simon chilled in his stroller- he's such a good little guy to take for a walk. It was getting late by the time we got home, but he still thought there was plenty of time to play in the yard before bed. We disagreed. It's sad that we win because we're bigger and Simon can be scooped, but you can't reason a cranky toddler to bed. He didn't wake up for Daddy Time, but he did wake up twice during the night, which is unusual. Obviously we still need to work out some of the kinks in the bedtime plan.

I need to take these long walks while I still can, before they become short waddles.

*sniffle*

LOL- Seriously

Originally posted July 17/2007 on "Allison Wonderland" (yes, in purple)



OK, you know how when you're talking to someone online, and they say something funny, so you type "lol" even though you're only laughing on the inside?

Right now, I'm laughing on the outside. I'm lol-ing all over the place.

Go to Overheard in New York- it's a website where people submit actual stupid things thay've heard people say (in New York, naturally). Some of them aren't that funny, some are downright disgusting, but there are so many that are making my laugh my butt off right now.

High Expectations Can Have Unintended Consequences

Kindly gent: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Little kid: Retarded!
Kindly gent: Retarded?
Little kid: My grandpa is retarded, and he gets to play and watch TV all day!
Kindly gent: [Stunned silence.]
Kid's mom, embarrassed: He means 'retired.'
Little kid: Retarded! Retarded! Retarded! I wanna be retarded! [Starts to cry.]

--Washington & Water St

Wait, Are We Talking about the Movie or the Boat?

Bimbette: ... And then I was thinking, Wouldn't it suck if the Titanic really happened?
Friend: Are you fucking serious?
Bimbette: Yeah! I mean, it would be sad, right?

--34th St

While Visualizing It Turning into Vitamins

Little girl: Mommy, can I have ice cream?
Mom: No! Not until you finish your McDonald's. Then you can have that ice cream.

--Atlantic Center





And so on, and so forth. You get the idea.

And just so we're clear, I only enjoy reading the stupid things that other people say because I am, in fact, aware of the huge amount of nonsense that comes out of my own mouth.





Also: Overheard Everywhere

I'm Flightless, They Say -- Why Go On?

Bimbette #1: What's up with Katie?
Bimbette #2: She's an emu. Emus cut themselves.



Go cry, emu kid...

Work- the Good Stuff

Originally posted July 16/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"


I know that I spend an excessive amount of time (and space) bitching about work- the overworked, underpaid, Stinkwater parts. Sometimes, though, I go in for a shift and I'm reminded of why I'm still there. It's not the job- it's the people.

Friday was a bad day. Friday was a spent the day crying, thought AJ was going to have to take me to the emergency room*, feeling guilty for crying in front of Simon day. Most days right now I'm ok, but once in a while my hormones do something that makes it feel like I've never been treated for depression- I'm back in the whirlpool again. Simon was so good about it- I was trying not to cry in front of him (I never want him to wonder if it's his fault), but he's not stupid. He knew what was up. So he took care of me; he tried to feed me his lunch, and he kept running over to give me more hugs and kisses than I usually get in a week. They say toddlers don't understand that other people have feelings, but I'm not so sure about that.

In any case, I went to work that night. I had calmed down; I was exhausted, I looked like shit, but I was there. The first person I saw was was the Spookster- he was on the phone in the back. "I gotta call you back," he said, and hung up. I was back to being a little weepy by then, so he came into the break room to see what was up. Everyone there knows I'm pregnant, so they're quite understanding. I got a big, comforting hugm and cried all over him- I think I cried as much because he cared that much as because I was crying anyway. Like I said- crying at everything. And then C. came in.

"EEEEEEEEEK!"

C. likes to squeal, especially every time she looks at my belly, which doesn't even look pregnant yet. She gives good hugs, too. "I so wish I was pregnant," she said. I laughed. There I was, crying for no reason, no make-up on my pale, blotchy face, wanting to barf every 5 seconds, in desperate need of about 12 hours' sleep... and people want to be pregnant. Oh, it's magical, alright. Yeah, it's worth it in the end, and I know most people don't get it as bad as I do (I think my mom did, in fact, have magical pregnancies), but it's still funny to hear people say that.

Down on the floor, T. (the most overworked and underpaid of the lot of us) asked how I was doing, let me do my thing at the fitting rooms and wouldn't let me do any heavy lifting.

The point is, the people I work with are great. The ones who stick around for a while are the ones who take care of each other. We're all in it together, up to our armpits in mess, working our asses off (most of us) for $7.50 an hour... or less. But we have fun. I don't hang out with anyone from work in my non-working hours, but I consider many of them my friends. I don't want to get sappy or anything... they're just great people to have around when you need comfort... or a laugh... or timbits (thanks, Spookerooni).

That's why I'm still there.





*This is what you're supposed to do. Even if your emergency is of the mental health variety, go to the emergency room. They have people who will help you (and not look at you like you're crazy).