Wednesday, January 28, 2015

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Is it yoga if you wear sweatpants all day and then hunch over the kitchen sink as you eat a burrito?


Tuesday, January 27, 2015

An Anniversary of Sorts

Today, January 27th, was the twenty four year anniversary of my first kiss. At fifteen, I was a late bloomer.

I am a girl, so I remember these kinds of things. I remember that I had, after months of chicken-shit debate, made a $5 bet with a friend that I would finally kiss the object of my infatuation. I remember that I planned my outfit carefully: a blue and white shirtdress, my brand-new blue Reebok sneakers, my CoverGirl Lipslicks lip gloss. I remember looking at myself in the mirror before leaving the house with ridiculous gravitas: This, I remember thinking to myself, will change everything.

It wasn't a date, this kiss. It happened at his sisters birthday party. He was younger than me, but cocky for fourteen. We had been flirting steadily for a few months. He made my heart beat really fast.

Now I laugh, but that night I felt like a seductress in my Reeboks and Lipslicks. I remember playing with my food, giving him meaningful looks, twirling my unruly hair. When I was finished eating I put down my fork, looked pointedly at him, and told him I was going upstairs to his room. To this day I have not been so ballsy or breathless.

Up in his room, I waited, looking at his posters. He came upstairs a few minutes later, and we feigned interest in a photograph, making awkward conversation. I expected some dramatic build-up, some slow, movie-perfect moment of our faces moving closer and closer together, but instead he just kissed me, suddenly, mid-sentence. Like so many rites of passage, I barely remember what it felt like, as I was so distracted by the realization that it had finally happened.

I never did kiss that boy again. It turned out he had a girlfriend, and it turned out that I had a lot of growing up to do before I'd be ready for anything more than kissing. At the time, I felt painfully inexperienced, but now I can appreciate a nice, slow bloom.


Do you remember your first kiss?




Thursday, January 22, 2015

I Like You Not

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! In case you didn’t know, that’s the sound of me screaming in terror. No, I wasn’t being chased by a masked serial killer or hunted for sport by a group of scientifically altered super monkeys. It’s so much worse - I saw a roach! It’s the second I’ve seen at the mall actually. It’s as if they know when I’m the most vulnerable and they strike and scare the crap out of me. Literally.

I am deathly afraid of (some) bugs, especially ones that I feel could take me in a fight. They’re gross, they’re creepy and I feel they bear me ill will. Now I know some of you may be thinking, "What’s the big deal? Bugs are important to our planet’s eco-system. We can all co-habitate peacefully together if we respect each other’s place in this world." Well, I say back to you..."You are a dirty hippie and no one wants to come to your house."

For those of you like myself who find even Jiminy Cricket to be threatening (a bug is even more terrifying when dressed in a top hat and dinner jacket), here is what you can do when you encounter a big-ass, scary ol’ bug:


Step One
Upon seeing the horrid creature, scream as if to wake the dead. If possible, continue to scream through the next six steps.


Step Two
Run from room where said horrid creature was spotted. Remember to shut and lock the door behind you. Careful, it is not scientifically proven* that roaches don’t have opposable thumbs with which to open doors *By “not scientifically proven”, I mean I haven’t Googled it yet but I’m pretty sure I’m right.


Step Three
Abandon your workplace/house/apartment and everything in it forever. Why prolong this terror any longer? If this is not possible for reasons I can’t imagine, proceed to step four.


Step Four
Slowly open door to the room where the bug lays in wait (I hope you’re still screaming). Throw something at it, like a loofah or a Tampax Pearl slender regular. Watch as it scurries to a corner of the room. Good, now you have him exactly where you want him. Ha! The predator is suddenly the predator-ee. That’s a word, right?


Step Five
Go get the bug spray. If you are like me and forgot to buy it at the store as you got distracted by the free samples of cookies, other sprays will suffice. My special formula includes a random mash-up of Finesse hair spray, tile cleaner, shaving gel and half a can of sunless tanning mist. The roach will still die, only he’ll move on to the next world with silky hair and a coppery but natural looking tan.


Step Six
Find someone  (guy or girl it doesn't matter) to pick up the deceased (but now oddly pretty) roach. Don’t try to do this yourself. If experience has taught me anything, you will only waste an entire roll of paper towels trying to pick it up and end up dropping it as you gag and scream. Call a boyfriend, husband, father, brother or creepy neighbour to do it for you. I’m as much a feminist as the next girl but I’d sooner give up my rights to vote than pick up a big ol’ roach carcass. All in all, it’ll take about three hours and cost you upwards of $60 bucks in beauty supplies, but it will be worth it because in the end...said like that little old lady from the movie Poltergeist...“Your house is cleaned.”



Copper Roach by Metal by Martin via Etsy
 
 What about you...are you afraid of bugs?


Wednesday, January 7, 2015

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

You'd think that atoms bonding would mean they're being friendly to each other, but instead they steal each others electrons. How ionic.


Atomic Atom Molecule Art Print by Walkslee via Etsy

Monday, January 5, 2015

You May Not Be Able To Tell...But...

I am working very hard. Can't You tell?

If you were here, you could hear the churning and whirring coming from the dishwasher.
That, my friends, is the equivalent of me standing by the sink elbow deep in hot suds with an aching back, blowing wisps of hair out of my eyes.

If it weren't for the modern marvel of the dishwasher, I would be battling dried tomato sauce or chocolate syrup or whatever stubbornly clings to a cup, saucer or bowl. The fact that the dishwasher is doing it for me doesn't negate my efforts because the job is getting done...and I am, therefore, entitled - guilt free - to sit down here, in my jammies, tapping away to you.

Next, a load of clothes will enter the washing machine dirty and emerge clean and fresh, ready to be popped into dryer from which they will reappear dry and, if folded quickly, nearly wrinkle-free. This is, obviously, the equivalent of two hours (at least) of back-breaking labour. The kind once done by my grandma in the deep tub of our kitchen sink. She actually had one of those old-fashioned wringers that would squeeze out the water and would then hang each item on a line in the backyard.Grandma's ancestors would beat laundry against the rocks of the stream that ran behind the hut...therefore, I am actually doing this very work while I sit back with my foot up.

Take this to heart, women who feel you must accomplish other things while your appliances are plugged in and doing their jobs. That is pure nonsense. Put up those feet, pop a bon bon, grab that copy of Cosmo, put a fresh topcoat on your pedicure or just tilt your head like a bird and stare out the window to your hearts content - you are hard at work and don't let anyone tell you different!

Vintage Rustic Washboard Print by Miss P Photography via Etsy

Thursday, December 18, 2014

A Positive Force

Be a positive force. Pollute the well with rainbows and hearts! And as soon as the dark tar of negativity enters your body, grind it up and get it out. Because whether you think so or not, what you project effects everyone around you and your energy can create a chain reaction for the better. We are all sensitive beings exchanging all sorts of signals all the time. Even though the world effects you as heavily as it does sometimes, you effect the world around you right back.

Being positive will change the world a lot more than you think it will. I used to feel paralyzed by the badness in the world, thinking, “What’s the point? Why even try to help a problem when it is never going to stop it...people are cyclically spreading badness and pain.” But they are not just doing that...sometimes it just seems that way, and a constant barrage of terrible news can really get to most of us.

I recently heard this quote, “If you save the life of one man, you save all of mankind.” (I replace man with person of course.) This to me profoundly answers the question, “Why even try?” Because hope and love are alive and they are the true foundation of the human soul that can heal all. If you can become a positive influence in this universe, it multiplies and reverberates in ways you cannot know or see or quantify. Love is what makes us different and amazing and in the face of all the conflicts and fears and fighting, it’s the only thing that matters. We are all born good but we sometimes become dulled and lost on our path. Keep the light bright and you help change the world. Your smile, your energy, your kindness soothes and cures the pain of others in the most subtle of ways. It reminds a stranger that we are all good, people mean well, and the future is bright.

I thank all those who remain positive despite their hardship and remain kind despite the brutality of others. Thank you for the people that hold elevators for strangers. Let people in, in traffic. That get screwed by people that are just out to scam them but then spend a lot of their energy evaporating that rage and letting it fly out the window. The people that don’t think money is the most important thing in the world. That want to be responsible, respectful and to uproot their prejudices. The people that smile at you when passing in a hallway at work. The people that tell you when they like something you’re wearing. The people that compliment you when you did something really great even though they are helplessly jealous. The people that admit they’re jealous. The people with generous laughs. The people that are somehow magically never unkind. People that weep at beauty. The people that celebrate their friends when they win the lottery, and they mean it. The people that are kind to the the troubled, even when they are afraid. Because you don’t know it, but you are saving the world by existing.

You represent the pure good we are all born with but that can get dulled along the way. I believe we can all get there and work to stay there, and if you tune your body and mind toward peace and balance this center inside you will grow stronger. It’s like there’s an evil force trying to pollute us all and in order to get rid of that crap you’ve gotta cough it out like ash. Whatever you do don’t spread it. There’s a lot of terrible stuff going on out there, and you know what? It’s always gonna be. You can either contribute to it or be a force for good. I firmly believe whatever you put out there will come back to you, and however you treat others they will be more inclined to treat you back. It’s fun to be nice. And it makes you feel awesome. You matter.


 
 
 

Friday, December 12, 2014

Three Months

Well, I blinked and another month went by.

I feel like I live in a time-warp. In a lot of ways, this month went by slowly. But it also feels like it it way too soon for me to have a 3 month old.

Did I do all the things I wanted to do with my newborn? Is he still considered a newborn now that he’s 3 months old? I mean, he’s still wearing some 0-3 months clothes so that has to count for something, right?


Newborn or not...there is no question that he is the cutest baby in the whole wide world. Want proof...


 

 



Happy weekend you lovely peoples!



 

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Monday, December 8, 2014

Who Are These People and Do We Need Them?

Product label writers.
 
Who are they? Who employs them? What is their job description? Here's my thought...they work directly under the legal department of large companies and under the direction of counsel, write directions and warning labels fit for a zombie who just landed on earth and discovered our products for the first time. Because companies are required to provide ample warning of "foreseeable" dangers in their products, this must be a high paid position succeptable to brain strain and writer's block. Prerequisites for the job: Must be from earth, be able to type 5 wpm, and read.
 
I have my own bathroom and Adam has his own bathroom (his bathroom is an ensuite in our bedroom). Now because Adam is usually the only one that ever uses his bathroom, putting down the toilet seat is never on his "To Do List". Quietly, I crawled out of bed this morning at 5:30 am to use the bathroom and got ready to do what I have down to a science while still half asleep on any given night...when using my own bathroom but this particular morning for reasons unknown, I used Adam's bathroom...when my worst nightmare comes true. S P L A S H - arse first right in the bowl - and ladies you know, what do you do when you are falling into the toilet? You grab the slippery cold wet rim of the bowl. Something you've had an aversion to since those dark college nights (or in my case...army nights) of removing the demons you put there after a party. I can't help it...I yell - SONOFA....I compose myself not wanting to wake the baby up (must NOT wake the baby) but I've now bathed in my significant others toilet water, my arse is cold and wet not to mention totally contaminated.
 
The next logical thing in my mind is to say shag it and take a shower as I am a germaphobe anyways and the mere thought of touching or doing anything whilest someone else's toilet water trickles down my arsecrack is making me shudder. I get in the shower. It's early, I'm tired. I proceed to wash my hair and for whatever reason I turn the shampoo bottle over and read the back - why? I don't know but the directions are: Wet hair, apply shampoo from root to tip, massage, rinse. Bells go off! It clicks....wow...this is just like any other shampoo but I need to go from the root to the tip! So this is the salon secret I've been missing! I get to thinking. "Why do we need those instructions?" Is there ever going to be a time when we use shampoo and perhaps we should massage our heads first and then add the shampoo in one big dollup and be done? Oh noooo, I'm now thinking to much and didn't notice if I've applied it to my roots first and then tip or tip and then roots. I've totally failed the following directions part. I hope my hair doesn't fall out.
 
The next thing I notice is the 1-800 number at the bottom of the bottle. I can't help but wonder if someone's ever called it with questions. Is this why the very wealthy have the phones in their showers?
 
  • *Ring, Ring*
  • Thank you for calling Pantene hair products, how can I help you today?
  • Umm, hello, I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake and applied your shampoo tip first and then roots. Any suggestions?
  • Ohhh that IS a problem. Were you not paying attention to the directions or did something happen that you reversed the order?
  • Yes, I just started thinking about other things...what do I do now?
  • Well, I'm afraid you'll have to go ahead and start the process over again only this time really try to follow those directions! Please call back if you have any other problems.
  • *Click*
 Do we actually need directions and warning labels? What are your thoughts?
 
 
 
It's been a while since I've had a non baby post but in my defense...that boy of mine is pretty blog worthy!
 
 
 

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Throwback Thursday

I'm throwing it back to December 4th, 2011...we were just a few days away from our second frozen embryo transfer (the one that ended in a chemical pregnancy) and I was in the midst of PIO injections. 

A lot sure can change in 3 years!




Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Flip Flops & Ping Pong

Today I learned that parenting is one of the more, um, emotionally schizophrenic experiences a person can have. (And coming from me, that means something.)

Today I flip-flopped from feeling to feeling like an attention-deficitted captain kangaroo. Emotions ping-ponged me over the head while the audience in my head hysterically laughed. I was...pissed right off, exhausted, tolerant, happy, impatient, lazy, contemplative, frustrated, bummed, exhilarated, refreshed, proud, thrilled, joyful, impatient again, curious, worried, anxious, lazy again, frustrated again, disappointed, sad, a little bit panicked, irritable, lonely, cautious, and now tense. There was also some hungry and thirsty in there, and I think once or twice I had to pee.

The point is, I had not anticipated how intense all my mom emotions would be, let alone how easily they would frantically run away...sometimes with me still attached. I can't keep up. The only constant is how much I love Lochlan...which isn't even constant, rather erratically and exponentially accelerating, which only increases my worry and general angst. See? Emotionally schizophrenic.

Days like today leave me so mentally worn out. I'm not sure how to take it all in...how does one absorb this? I feel like I have no room in my brain for anything unrelated to my mom-ness.

This unfortunately makes carving out time for Adam and I a much larger task than even I had expected. Although we've managed to slip in some quick lovely moments over the past days/weeks/months... the truth of the matter is that most things I do feel like chores. Mostly because they are chores, and in some cases gigantic life-dependent responsibilities.

Some activities do feel like a brief respite from chores (such as watching Big Brother Australia and a hot bubble bath) but these are basically survival tactics to which I cling for sanity. In any case, they usually get interrupted and almost always carry guilt right along with them.

I haven't yet learned how to be a whole person again. Right now I'm just a mom, very barely a wife, and basically nothing of a me but I know it'll get better...just gotta keep chugging along


(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

My hand is stuck in a jar of salsa right now. I'm just gonna leave it in there. This is who I am now. I'm tired of fighting.


Thursday, November 27, 2014

Well, blow me down...Lochlan James is now...

2 months 16 days
or 11 weeks 0 days
or 77 days
or 1,848 hours
or 110,880 minutes
or 6,652,800 seconds old

When you have a baby, you enter this strange vortex where time flies except when he’s crying. When he's crying time feels like it's so very slowly ticking by! There are other things that change as well once you've had your wee bundle for a wee while. Here are three things I've learned with a two month old...

You begin to revert back to your childhood bedtime
Remember when having to go to bed felt like a punishment and you went kicking and screaming? Or when you had to go to bed in the summer before it was dark? Ahhh, memories. With a 2 month old baby, you either quickly learn to sleep when he sleeps, or you slowly wither away into a sleep-deprived, former shell of yourself. Lochlan going to bed at 8:30? Sounds great, let me hop into my jammies! The little man is going to nap all afternoon? I’m all in, where’s my favorite blankie? Of course, on the flip side of this is that the 6 to 8 hours of continuous sleep that you used to strive for is now a distant memory that you sometimes dream about during your cat naps.

You will sink to new comedic lows, just to make your baby laugh 
Whether I am right or wrong, I consider myself to have a pretty sophisticated sense of humor. While it is true that I have a sweet spot for poop references and fart jokes, I tend to prefer something more cerebral. The problem here is that little babies do not have a sophisticated sense of humor...trust me, I've tried everything. Maybe they just don't have the mental capacity to follow a long set up, perhaps they miss the subtle twists and play on words or maybe they're just easily distracted. For example, just the other night we watched an episode of Mrs. Browns Boys together and he didn't laugh once, though he did fart a few times (which made me laugh, per usual). When a little baby starts to cry though, you will do anything to make him stop. This includes sticking out your tongue to performing grade school level slapstick. When I say anything, I mean anything!

You will be awakened at sunrise, every single day
Now I understand why babies don't have jobs (it’s because they stink at Excel, right?), but if they did, I believe that they would have a better appreciation for weekends. They would understand the joy, no the need, of sleeping in on Saturdays and Sundays. Instead, they wake as soon as the sun peaks it’s intrusive rays through every little opening in the window treatments. They coo their cute little baby coos and grin their cute little baby grins. If you ignore their performance then the encore will surely grab your attention. That’s the point when cooing turns into full on crying. So you get up and get the day started. After some standard baby maintenance (feeding, changing etc.), you get your breakfast and a cup of coffee. Once the caffeine kicks in, you feel better than expected so you decide to play with the little tyke. Guess what? He’s now enjoying his first of many naps.

I've also learned that having a two month old leaves me little time for blogging but I'm working on that...promise...but right now I've got to go and cuddle my sweet boy!












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