Rogue poop

My littlest little is very rabbit-like, in that her poops often look like this…

poop

So today, while hubs was changing her bum, one of these pellets rolled out of the diaper.

We still can’t find where it went. Damn earth toned carpet.

So how has your day been?

Little Green Men

One evening, a long time ago, I saw what I think was a UFO in the sky.

Yes, I know….it’s all weird. It’s spooky. They’re not real, they don’t exist, blah ba blah ba blah. But my buddy and I saw a strange, super bright light whip and zip all over the sky. Then, 2 minutes later, the radio station that we were listening to received an assault of calls from people, who, just like us, had seen the same strange light in the sky.

To see the light in itself was too cool. But to have it be validated by a disc jockey on a popular radio station made it REAL. We were wired. In disbelief that we might have just witnessed something life changing, right before our eyes.

That was, until the DJ broke after the song set to tell us all “not to worry….that Environment Canada had verified it to be a weather balloon…..

Um, yeah. OK.

Nevertheless, I haven’t stopped wondering, and when stuff like this pops into my newsfeed, I love to check it.

alien

Coulda Woulda Shoulda

What’s the main ingredient in hand sanitizer?
…..
paranoia
Ahhhh…..the ‘coulda woulda shoulda’ revelation. That feeling, while examining scenarios, circumstances, predicaments, when one feels that another course of action, or even better, REACTION, would have been more suited to the situation. It leads you to mull. Re-examine. Go around and around, dissecting your words, the words of others, pondering, why? How? What could have been better?
It has everything to do with one of my most serious New Years resolutions to date, of which I’m committing to for 2015. A conscious decision to really make my choices in life count, for real this time. Mostly because being a mom of two littles, I have very very little time for anything. So therefore, logically, let’s put a real effort into making the time that you do have really count. Translation? Choosing the best words. The best reactions. The best people. The best path. Most of all, choosing happiness.
For example: don’t PVR that extra show. Because then you’ll feel obliged to watch it. And the pressure to watch it will inevitably take away from the effort that you are putting into making funny (and let’s not forget consistent) character voices for your daughter’s story time. You absolutely have to have continuity in the voices. Your kid WILL notice if one week, the gingerbread girl’s voice is squeaky, and the next week, it’s husky. And she will call you out on it. Trust me.
Anyway, I’m really trying to commit to this state of mind. So far it seems to be going well.
Truthfully, what inspired this post was an event that occurred almost 4 years ago. I was at the hospital, just having birthed my first child. To say that I was shocked and in awe of this is the understatement of the year. I remember looking at my new baby girl, totally rattled on adrenaline and remnants of laughing gas, looking around in disbelief that the hospital was actually going to let me take this little human home with me. I felt like I had cheated on an exam and had taken home a congratulatory A+.
We were waiting nervously for the go ahead to leave, and also waiting for that one test that they do, the PKU test (I believe?), that checks your kid for some nearly eradicated blood disease (which they had conveniently forgotten about, and subsequently, left us sitting waiting for 3 hours in a room). 
So I hid in the bathroom while the nurse took the blood.
Which is really weird in itself, because I don’t usually hide from anything. I remember standing there in that hospital washroom, staring in the mirror, not fully recognizing myself – only knowing that some little human that I didn’t even know yet had succeeded in really stressing me out already. I wasn’t so much upset about it….I just felt very….peculiar. It was like I was trying on a new costume, that sort of fit, but didn’t quite feel right yet. Peculiar.
When I finally came out of the bathroom, I felt sheepish that I wasn’t there for my baby’s first needle. I felt guilt, already, less than 24 hours in.
So I made a joke, made light of it. Told the nurse with a giggle “I hid in the bathroom cuz I hate needles”
You know what the *%# said to me?
“Paranoia will destroy ya” all snarky and stone faced.
I remember looking at my husband, puzzled. Not sure if this was a joke. Not sure if she was trying t be funny, or trite, or if she was just plain insensitive. Maybe I was missing the point? Never mind that I had just laboured for 10 hours, been sliced and diced, cried and lost all dignity, and I was the one who felt responsible to lighten the mood about my little hiding in the bathroom joke? Only to be sarcastically shot down by this nurse that clearly needed a coffee break, or a hug, or something.
So coulda woulda shoulda? I’ve gone over the situation so many times. What I should,have said to her, instead of just staring at her, wide mouthed, until she left out hospital room. In one scenario I call her a name. In another, I cry and return to the bathroom, sulking over the prospect of a paranoia ridden life that will inevitably ruin my and my child’s future, in another scenario, I just give her a hug. Because that’s probably what she needed most.
But in all seriousness, what am I going to tell my kids about people like this? That feel the need to kick you while you’re down, or that simply just don’t know their timing when it comes to offering their opinions.
All I know is that when one of my kids is having a meltdown, even though I want to scream at them, I find the most effective thing is to just get down and hug them. It takes them down a notch, and decompresses the situation.
Coulda woulda shoulda. Teach kindness. Try harder to make that moment count. Don’t look back on the coulda woulda shoulda situations, because they’re everywhere. Just make it count in the present. That’s all.

Conversations with a 3 year old

Sometimes chatting with my toddler makes my brain hurt. There always seems to be an endless barrage of “why’s” and “why not’s” (usually in the incorrect context, btw). But then she makes me double over with laughter thanks to some cheeky or quirky comment, and I remember that she’s brand new and life for her is too! I have to remember these moments because before I know it, she’ll be moving out and off to college, and all I will want is to transport myself back to these days where her view on life is as fresh and wonderful as it will ever be!

Here are some of my fave conversations

3 year old: “Do we have a horse?”
Me: “No”
3 year old: “Why?”
Me: “Ummmm….because we don’t have room in our yard?”
3 year old: “why?”

….you get the idea

3 year old: (aggravating her baby sister, baby sister starts to wail)
Me: what did you do to her?
3 year old: I just smashed her
Me: why?
3 year old: because I’m a naughty princess

3 year old: (sipping her milk) mmmmm….this milk is so cold. So silky

(Me, noticing the 3 year old has colored all over her face)
Me: when did you do that?
3 year old: on Friday
(Keep in mind it was Monday)

3 year old: mommy will you rub cream on my legs?
Me: sure love (I start massaging her feet and legs)
3 year old: thanks mom. That feels fantastic

Happy Friday everyone 🙂

The Blackout

                                      Ahhh, the blackout.

The phenomenon that happens to all new moms, and plagues us for anywhere from 2-10+ years after your child is born. For some, it never goes away.

It’s that moment when you walk into a room with the intention to do/grab/make/change something, and like a magician waving his magic wand, “POOF”…..the thought is gone.

Gone. Evaporated. Vanished into thin air.

You stand there in the blackout, trying to remember why you entered the room. What was it you were coming in here to do? Ok, let’s retrace our steps. You back out of the room, searching for triggers that will remind you why you went in there in the first place.

But sadly, it’s gone. Sometimes forever.

My fave is when you’re mid conversation with someone, and like a crow that is attracted to a shiny object, something draws your attention elsewhere, and you forget MID SENTENCE

When do we determine if a complaint is just a complaint, or a cry for help?

What I mean is this……

When we text our husband and tell him that today, managing a toddler that pees on the floor and an infant that has an ear infection is almost unmanageable? And he responds that he’s already paid for golf, so he can’t cancel now?

He assumes you’re just having a bad day, and that your complaint is only a complaint, and not a cry for help?

Or when you text a family member to joke “want to come over?”, when you know full certain that this said family member will most definitely not come over, due to being “very busy today” doing stuff that you think is dumb stuff, but that secretly you would give your right arm at this point to be able to muddle around luxuriously doing this “dumb stuff” instead of lugging around a crying, snotty 22lb sack of sand all day long?

The family member gives you the standard canned “pep talk” (soon they’ll be 16 and you’ll wonder where the time went, I’m sure the Advil will kick in soon, I didn’t have any help when I was your age etc) and you reply that you were “only kidding, you’re doing fine, just complaining” and that your asking them to come over and help has turned into a joke so to deflect the real disappointment that they can’t detect your cry for help.

Responses like these always make you reevaluate the difficulty of your situation (it can’t be that hard, or else they truly would sense it and come to my rescue), and you reach, for the 50th time today, into the seemingly bottomless pit of your reserve of patience, and pull out a bit more, just to make it through the next few hours.

Reading over this, it all seems quite melodramatic.

But trust me, in the moment, while one can’t be soothed and the other has locked herself in the bathroom, and you’re surviving on stale triscuits and cold coffee, it tends to feel like the end of the world.

There’s my complaint for the day. Trust me, that’s all this is….a complaint.

Xox Me

I wish

I wish people would smile more, and complain less

I wish that the feeling you get on that first real sunny day of spring lasted all year

I wish I liked country music

I wish cake was good for you

I wish I didn’t have to worry about pesticides on my strawberries, GMOs in my cornflakes or radiation in my salmon

I wish people would put down their phones and play with their children

I wish time would freeze

I wish cancer didn’t take little children

Rest in peace, sweet Connor. Heaven has another angel today