Friday, December 30, 2011
Santa shops at Costco...
Well, we managed to navigate our way through another Christmas holiday, enjoying the fun of the season while simultaneously trying not to go crazy. The kids were fantastic- even though their routines and schedules were discarded like the bows, tags, and ribbons adorning their gifts, they stayed in great humour throughout the late nights, early mornings, and crowded rooms. As usual, they were spoiled beyond belief; bringing home an incredible haul of toys, clothes, books, and "babies." We anticipated our families and friends supplying the bulk of their Christmas loot like they tend to do, so Santa brings them a few large gifts to share, stuffs their stockings and Mommy and Daddy wraps up their practical gifts. This year Santa left them a kick ass kitchen/BBQ set with about 1000 accessories that will, with any luck, take Saku an entire year to steal and eat one by one. I love the fact that our kids are still small enough that we can give them practical gifts that they need anyways, and they don't realize that we shafted them with a shitty, unfun present. We gave Dryden a new dresser for his bedroom; Noelle received an electric fireplace for her frigid bedroom and Santa stuffs their stockings with toothbrushes, toothpaste, cool band aides, diaper cream, socks, hats, mittens, bibs, and cold medicine. Ok, I made that last one up...but you get the point. There will eventually come a time when I will have to buy them less lame stocking stuffers and buy that other shit like other parents: whenever the kids need it. Until then, enjoy unwrapping that bottle of shampoo little ones- Santa knew you ran out!
Friday, December 23, 2011
T'was The Night Before Christmas....at The Pomainville's
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Upside down yogurt containers were everywhere- each containing a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the windowsill with care,
With the hopes that Nicholas would put some good shit in there.
The children were (more or less) nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of chocolate pudding danced in their heads.
And Nick in his boxers, and me not feeling my best,
Had just collapsed into bed for a much needed rest.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter
I waddled from the bed to see what the fuck was the matter.
Away to the window, which I had recently washed,
Tore open the curtains, and scraped off the frost.
Our thousands of Christmas lights glistened off the snow,
That Nick had spent hours shoveling, with a slight drunken glow.
When, what to my sleep-encrusted eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
The driver was missing (who drives a sleigh? What a dork!)
And perched on our roof, behind that, was the Stork.
"Nick!" I yelled, "Wake the hell up- I think the baby is here!!"
Nick rubbed his eyes drowsily, whispering, "it's far too early for that m'dear."
"Now Nicholas! Now Dryden! Now Noelle and Saku!
Get out of bed- go pack your bags- we still have so much left to do!"
Put our stuff in the van, the hospital we must give a call,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
And then, with some straining, I could hear through the ceiling
The stork and the reindeer were wheeling and dealing!
As I drew in my head, thinking that Christmas was canned,
Down the stairs ran my Nicholas, shotgun in hand.
He climbed up on the roof, and stared that stork down,
Nick told him to back the hell up, and turn right around.
We weren't ready for Baby, at least not on Christmas Eve,
We hate unannounced visitors... it's my #1 pet peeve.
The stork's eyes, how they were terrified- his bladder let go
He was backing up slowly, his head shaking "no"
Now Nick and I are reasonable, on this you must agree,
But Baby coming early would ruin Christmas you see.
So Stork, you frig off, we still have 20 more days,
We'd like to have Christmas, at home, with the kids anyways.
The stork scrambled away, squawking like a whiny little elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
Nick climbed down the ladder, and came back in the side door,
And about Baby coming early, we would have to worry no more.
We checked on the kids, and hopped back into bed,
The arrival of morning we were starting to dread.
As I snuggled down deeper, Baby still safe in my belly,
Nick turned on the TV and we both watched some telly.
My eyes started to close, and Nick whispered to my right,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
Merry Christmas My Friends! xo
Upside down yogurt containers were everywhere- each containing a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the windowsill with care,
With the hopes that Nicholas would put some good shit in there.
The children were (more or less) nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of chocolate pudding danced in their heads.
And Nick in his boxers, and me not feeling my best,
Had just collapsed into bed for a much needed rest.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter
I waddled from the bed to see what the fuck was the matter.
Away to the window, which I had recently washed,
Tore open the curtains, and scraped off the frost.
Our thousands of Christmas lights glistened off the snow,
That Nick had spent hours shoveling, with a slight drunken glow.
When, what to my sleep-encrusted eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
The driver was missing (who drives a sleigh? What a dork!)
And perched on our roof, behind that, was the Stork.
"Nick!" I yelled, "Wake the hell up- I think the baby is here!!"
Nick rubbed his eyes drowsily, whispering, "it's far too early for that m'dear."
"Now Nicholas! Now Dryden! Now Noelle and Saku!
Get out of bed- go pack your bags- we still have so much left to do!"
Put our stuff in the van, the hospital we must give a call,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
And then, with some straining, I could hear through the ceiling
The stork and the reindeer were wheeling and dealing!
As I drew in my head, thinking that Christmas was canned,
Down the stairs ran my Nicholas, shotgun in hand.
He climbed up on the roof, and stared that stork down,
Nick told him to back the hell up, and turn right around.
We weren't ready for Baby, at least not on Christmas Eve,
We hate unannounced visitors... it's my #1 pet peeve.
The stork's eyes, how they were terrified- his bladder let go
He was backing up slowly, his head shaking "no"
Now Nick and I are reasonable, on this you must agree,
But Baby coming early would ruin Christmas you see.
So Stork, you frig off, we still have 20 more days,
We'd like to have Christmas, at home, with the kids anyways.
The stork scrambled away, squawking like a whiny little elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
Nick climbed down the ladder, and came back in the side door,
And about Baby coming early, we would have to worry no more.
We checked on the kids, and hopped back into bed,
The arrival of morning we were starting to dread.
As I snuggled down deeper, Baby still safe in my belly,
Nick turned on the TV and we both watched some telly.
My eyes started to close, and Nick whispered to my right,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
Merry Christmas My Friends! xo
Friday, December 16, 2011
Shit, that's right- I have a blog!
Wow...have you ever misplaced something or packed it away, and then forgotten that you ever owned it in the first place? My husband feels that way about the Wii and Playstation...and that's a little how I feel about this blog. I got busy doing life stuff, and forgot about it completely until tonight. I might not have even remembered it tonight either if it wasn't for me going into labour. (I can hear my mother-in-law in my head right now as she's reading this: "Going into labour? What the hell is she doing blogging? Call Nicholas and Get To The Hospital!") Back up: I didn't actually go into labour. I have developed a serious sensitivity to gluten, dairy and numerous other foods since the beginning of my pregnancy; I foolishly shared a brownie/cakey thing with Dryden for dessert after lunch and my body is now calling me on my cheat, telling me that the brownie hates me, hates everything about me. This is totally on par with something I would do: mistake indigestion cramps with the beginning stages of giving birth; and I thought to myself that it would make an amusing blog entry. And then I thought, "holy shit- I forgot that I have a blog!"
I was a little disappointed that I wasn't actually going into labour. I'd love to have the baby a few weeks early and have her here before the holidays. My husband, however, is conflicted. He doesn't have any holidays left at work for this year, so he'd like her to wait until 2012 to make her arrival. But he also acknowledges the benefit of claiming her as a dependant for the entire year of 2011 if she comes in December. As the sole breadwinner in our family, his logic is amazing. After I realized that (a) I am an idiot and that (b) tonight was not Baby Time, I immediately began to get that tight, panicky feeling in my chest. What if the baby does come early? I am completely unprepared. I figured I'd get through Christmas first and then tackle preparing for a new human being to come live with us- but what if we don't get the luxury of such laid back planning? I haven't unpacked any of the baby clothes, our bassinet was ruined during our move here in August, I lent my breast pump out and it perished in the line of duty, I have no itty bitty diapers (newborns can fit in size 6 Pampers, right?), I couldn't even tell you where our baby car seat is, I haven't arranged for a caregiver for the two older kids while we're at the hospital, and I haven't even thought about packing my bag for the hospital yet. I have no lists of "Things to Do For Baby" compiled yet, the baby monitors are in the toy box I think (where did I put the cords for them??), we threw out all the pacifiers when Dryden outgrew them...oh my god. I think I'm having a meltdown. 40 weeks is a deceiving amount of time to be pregnant. Its long enough that you get comfortable and forget that there will be a stage after being pregnant, that eventually you have to prepare for an actual, real, live baby to arrive. And that you have to take care of him/her. All the time.
My sister made me my baby shower book when I was pregnant with Noelle and in it contained "The Birth Order Of Children." It was funny when I read it then. I actually get it now.
"The Birth Order Of Children"
1st baby: you begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your pregnancy is confirmed.
2nd baby: you wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: your maternity clothes are your regular clothes.
1st baby: you practice your breathing regularly.
2nd baby: you don't bother b/c you remember that breathing didn't do shit last time.
3rd baby: you ask for the epidural in the eighth month.
1st baby: you pre-wash all clothes, color coordinate them, fold them neatly into various drawers.
2nd baby: you check to make sure the clothes are clean and discard the ones with stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, right?
1st baby: at the first sign of distress, whimper or frown, you pick up the baby.
2ns baby: you pick up the baby when his screams threaten to wake your first born.
3rd baby: you teach your three year old to rewind the mechanical swing.
1st baby: if the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away to take home, boil, and sanitize it.
2nd baby: when it falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice.
3rd baby: you wipe it off with your shirt and pop it back in.
1st baby: you change the baby's diaper every hour, regardless whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: you change the diaper every 2-3 hours as needed.
3rd baby: you try to change the diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging around their knees.
1st baby: you take baby to Baby Gymnastics, to Baby swimming, to Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: you take baby to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: you take baby to the grocery store and the dry cleaners.
1st baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you rush the child to the ER and demand x-rays.
2nd baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you carefully watch for it to appear in the diaper.
3rd baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you deduct it from their allowance.
1st baby: you spend a good bit of every day just gazing lovingly at your newborn.
2nd baby: you spend quite a bit of every day making sure the older kid isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the newborn.
3rd baby: you spend a little bit of each and every day hiding from the children!
I was a little disappointed that I wasn't actually going into labour. I'd love to have the baby a few weeks early and have her here before the holidays. My husband, however, is conflicted. He doesn't have any holidays left at work for this year, so he'd like her to wait until 2012 to make her arrival. But he also acknowledges the benefit of claiming her as a dependant for the entire year of 2011 if she comes in December. As the sole breadwinner in our family, his logic is amazing. After I realized that (a) I am an idiot and that (b) tonight was not Baby Time, I immediately began to get that tight, panicky feeling in my chest. What if the baby does come early? I am completely unprepared. I figured I'd get through Christmas first and then tackle preparing for a new human being to come live with us- but what if we don't get the luxury of such laid back planning? I haven't unpacked any of the baby clothes, our bassinet was ruined during our move here in August, I lent my breast pump out and it perished in the line of duty, I have no itty bitty diapers (newborns can fit in size 6 Pampers, right?), I couldn't even tell you where our baby car seat is, I haven't arranged for a caregiver for the two older kids while we're at the hospital, and I haven't even thought about packing my bag for the hospital yet. I have no lists of "Things to Do For Baby" compiled yet, the baby monitors are in the toy box I think (where did I put the cords for them??), we threw out all the pacifiers when Dryden outgrew them...oh my god. I think I'm having a meltdown. 40 weeks is a deceiving amount of time to be pregnant. Its long enough that you get comfortable and forget that there will be a stage after being pregnant, that eventually you have to prepare for an actual, real, live baby to arrive. And that you have to take care of him/her. All the time.
My sister made me my baby shower book when I was pregnant with Noelle and in it contained "The Birth Order Of Children." It was funny when I read it then. I actually get it now.
"The Birth Order Of Children"
1st baby: you begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your pregnancy is confirmed.
2nd baby: you wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: your maternity clothes are your regular clothes.
1st baby: you practice your breathing regularly.
2nd baby: you don't bother b/c you remember that breathing didn't do shit last time.
3rd baby: you ask for the epidural in the eighth month.
1st baby: you pre-wash all clothes, color coordinate them, fold them neatly into various drawers.
2nd baby: you check to make sure the clothes are clean and discard the ones with stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, right?
1st baby: at the first sign of distress, whimper or frown, you pick up the baby.
2ns baby: you pick up the baby when his screams threaten to wake your first born.
3rd baby: you teach your three year old to rewind the mechanical swing.
1st baby: if the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away to take home, boil, and sanitize it.
2nd baby: when it falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice.
3rd baby: you wipe it off with your shirt and pop it back in.
1st baby: you change the baby's diaper every hour, regardless whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: you change the diaper every 2-3 hours as needed.
3rd baby: you try to change the diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging around their knees.
1st baby: you take baby to Baby Gymnastics, to Baby swimming, to Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: you take baby to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: you take baby to the grocery store and the dry cleaners.
1st baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you rush the child to the ER and demand x-rays.
2nd baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you carefully watch for it to appear in the diaper.
3rd baby: when s/he swallows a coin, you deduct it from their allowance.
1st baby: you spend a good bit of every day just gazing lovingly at your newborn.
2nd baby: you spend quite a bit of every day making sure the older kid isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the newborn.
3rd baby: you spend a little bit of each and every day hiding from the children!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
How To Build A Better Mouse Trap
I come from hardy stock: we were raised in the country, calling an old fixer-upper of a house "home." Seeing a mouse dart zig zagging across the kitchen in the Fall was fairly common for our family. My sister and I weren't screamers; we calmly put down our crayons, closed our Zellers coloring book and told which ever parent was home that we had a mouse. If our three older brothers were home, this announcement would be like a call to arms- prepare for battle- get ready for the hunt. They would arm themselves with whatever tool or weapon they could find (and that Mom and/or Dad would let them weild) and set up elaborate plans to kill or capture the mouse. My parents went along with this routine, which I now fully understand as a parent myself, because it kept three rambunctious and mischievous boys occupied for hours. We eventually got a cat when I was 10 (he is still alive, despite being older than dust in cat years) and we no longer had a mouse ritual; the cat would find them, play with them until they died, and that was it.
I was not surprised in September (after moving into our very own old fixer upper in the country) when, upon entering the kitchen to replenish juice boxes, a tiny grey fluff with a tail zipped across the floor, frantically searching for a crack, any crack, in which to escape. I got the juice from the fridge and went back outside. I sat beside my husband on the deck and said, "oh yeah, the dentist called to confirm your appointment on Monday. And I just saw a mouse in the kitchen." After the kids were played out and ready for naps we went inside, where once again, we were greeted by the little grey mouse. I pulled open our Tupperware-landfill-drawer and took out a yogurt container, walked up to the mouse and *plop* trapped him under it. "Wow! You really are a country girl..." my husband said, slightly amused and slightly relieved that I wasn't hysterical. My husband caught one more tiny mouse later that day and then nothing else. We thought we had gotten off rather easily and were quite pleased with ourselves.
Last night, after suffering through a No Nap day with two increasingly grumpy toddlers, all I wanted was some peace and quiet. I tucked the little ones in bed, made a tea, turned off the T.V. and as many lights as I could without stumbling around in the dark and retreated to the living room. Saku was snoring on the couch and I was goofing around on Pintrest (yes, that is where I have been all month instead of blogging. I'm sorry. I think I got most of it out of my system. I joined a support/craft group....we meet Tuesdays after my Pepsioholics meeting...) Suddenly, through my DIY daydreaming haze I heard the telltale sound of itty bitty teeth nibbling in one of my kitchen cupboards. I looked over at Saku- who was still snoring and farting on the couch- and mentally traded him in for a cat. I went into the kitchen, turned on a single light, got a empty yogurt container and opened the cupboard door. There, right smack dab in the middle of space was a tiny mouse, who instantly froze when he saw me (thinking I was a Tyrannosaurus Rex and couldn't see him if he didn't move?) I *plopped* the yogurt container over him and congratulated myself on being more awesome than a creature the size of my thumb. Now, although I am not (ahem was not) afraid of mice, I still find them disgusting and dirty. They give me the willies. I wanted to go through the food in that cupboard to see if anything was chewed or opened so I could toss it. The first thing I picked up was a long forgotten box of Special K Blueberry cereal from the back of the shelf (I don't recommend it BTW) which I peeked into to see if the bag was still clipped shut and WHOA holy shit!!! Out jumped another fucking mouse- right at me! All of my Country Girl training was instantly forgotten and I dropped the box of cereal and yelled...probably swore. Loudly. I can't be sure because instead of running away from me, this badass mouse was coming towards me. I let out a couple of girly screams and did the universal "There's-A-Mouse-On-The-Floor" dance. Saku, finally roused from his frigging beauty sleep and from drooling on my throw cushions, came running to my defense...until the mouse turned on him and sped towards his big furry paws. He too let out a girly scream (I swear) and ran back to the living room, which is a step up from the kitchen and obviously far safer from an invading mouse army. And that is where he stayed for the rest of the night. Wuss. I couldn't tell you where the mouse disappeared to. I can tell you where all the food from that cupboard went though- right to the compost pile. I was supremely grossed out. The cupboard was empty- save for the solitary upside down yogurt container/mousey jail so I left the door wide open and went back to the living room and positioned my chair to face the empty abyss from which the mice come (could totally be the title of a movie, yes?) Ten minutes later, don't I see the little bugger in there again trying to knock over the container (which I cleverly weighed down) to free his buddy. I ran over there with my container (Saku followed me, all excited, but stopped abruptly at the living room step) and got into position...until the I-have-a-death-wish mouse turned and ran straight at me. BAH! Yogurt container went flying and I made it to the living room step in about two enormous jumps (not bad for a pregnant lady eh?) and stood panting beside Saku- who was giving me a smug "told you so" look. WTF was up with this mouse?! Now I'm thinking, "does he have rabies?" Back to my chair, and I added oven mitts and an old wooden spoon to my arsenal. And Doc Martins...that I tucked my pants into (shut up and stop laughing- this is serious!) Sure enough, 25 minutes later The Steven Segal of the mouse world was back trying to free his trapped buddy. And true to form, he ran towards me instead of away to safety- but I had boots and oven mitts on this time bitch and I kinda held my ground. He played chicken with me until the last possible second and then zipped over towards the wall and started climbing my curtains!!!!!! ( Did you know mice could do this? I didn't.) I. Went. Postal. "Do you know how expensive these were?! Get off my fucking curtains!!" I yelled at him and attacked with the spoon. He flew off, landed hard, and zipped between a crack in the baseboards. I was pissed now- it just got personal. This back-and-forth continued until 11:30 pm; I was starting to get really discouraged: I was being outsmarted by a goddamn mouse. Finally, probably due to his exhaustion not my reflexes, I was able to catch the dare devil under the yogurt container. I put something heavy on top and called it quits. Nick could figure out how to get the lids on the containers without freeing the mice; my part of the hunt was done. My husband set our only trap in that same cupboard when he got home from work (good christ, why didn't I think of that?) and it got another one before we even went to bed.
Neither of us slept at all last night; every sound was thought to be the arrival of new hoards of mice, I kept sitting up and shaking out the duvet cover in case there were mice on it, Nick checked the kids' rooms every hour. Nick was disgusted (he did not grow up in a fixer upper, and to him, a house with mice in it is a dirty, gross home) and I had a sever case of the willies. We got up tired this morning and right after breakfast we bundled the kids up and went shopping for poison and traps. Lots of traps. We kept the cupboard empty, smeared peanut butter on a handful of traps, and put a child safety lock on the door. As I write this blog, two traps have snapped in there. I know this because Saku marched right up to the living room step...and waited for me to go look. Worst. Guard dog. Ever. Nick has already started trolling MLS to find a new house, and I am seriously considering hitting up the animal shelter this weekend to adopt a pet that will actually have my back during the next stand off...
I long for the good old days when our house was just old and crappy, not old, crappy, and infested, and when I was confident that I would not shriek and pee myself a little when a tiny grey fluff with a tail darts across our floor. Sigh.
I was not surprised in September (after moving into our very own old fixer upper in the country) when, upon entering the kitchen to replenish juice boxes, a tiny grey fluff with a tail zipped across the floor, frantically searching for a crack, any crack, in which to escape. I got the juice from the fridge and went back outside. I sat beside my husband on the deck and said, "oh yeah, the dentist called to confirm your appointment on Monday. And I just saw a mouse in the kitchen." After the kids were played out and ready for naps we went inside, where once again, we were greeted by the little grey mouse. I pulled open our Tupperware-landfill-drawer and took out a yogurt container, walked up to the mouse and *plop* trapped him under it. "Wow! You really are a country girl..." my husband said, slightly amused and slightly relieved that I wasn't hysterical. My husband caught one more tiny mouse later that day and then nothing else. We thought we had gotten off rather easily and were quite pleased with ourselves.
Last night, after suffering through a No Nap day with two increasingly grumpy toddlers, all I wanted was some peace and quiet. I tucked the little ones in bed, made a tea, turned off the T.V. and as many lights as I could without stumbling around in the dark and retreated to the living room. Saku was snoring on the couch and I was goofing around on Pintrest (yes, that is where I have been all month instead of blogging. I'm sorry. I think I got most of it out of my system. I joined a support/craft group....we meet Tuesdays after my Pepsioholics meeting...) Suddenly, through my DIY daydreaming haze I heard the telltale sound of itty bitty teeth nibbling in one of my kitchen cupboards. I looked over at Saku- who was still snoring and farting on the couch- and mentally traded him in for a cat. I went into the kitchen, turned on a single light, got a empty yogurt container and opened the cupboard door. There, right smack dab in the middle of space was a tiny mouse, who instantly froze when he saw me (thinking I was a Tyrannosaurus Rex and couldn't see him if he didn't move?) I *plopped* the yogurt container over him and congratulated myself on being more awesome than a creature the size of my thumb. Now, although I am not (ahem was not) afraid of mice, I still find them disgusting and dirty. They give me the willies. I wanted to go through the food in that cupboard to see if anything was chewed or opened so I could toss it. The first thing I picked up was a long forgotten box of Special K Blueberry cereal from the back of the shelf (I don't recommend it BTW) which I peeked into to see if the bag was still clipped shut and WHOA holy shit!!! Out jumped another fucking mouse- right at me! All of my Country Girl training was instantly forgotten and I dropped the box of cereal and yelled...probably swore. Loudly. I can't be sure because instead of running away from me, this badass mouse was coming towards me. I let out a couple of girly screams and did the universal "There's-A-Mouse-On-The-Floor" dance. Saku, finally roused from his frigging beauty sleep and from drooling on my throw cushions, came running to my defense...until the mouse turned on him and sped towards his big furry paws. He too let out a girly scream (I swear) and ran back to the living room, which is a step up from the kitchen and obviously far safer from an invading mouse army. And that is where he stayed for the rest of the night. Wuss. I couldn't tell you where the mouse disappeared to. I can tell you where all the food from that cupboard went though- right to the compost pile. I was supremely grossed out. The cupboard was empty- save for the solitary upside down yogurt container/mousey jail so I left the door wide open and went back to the living room and positioned my chair to face the empty abyss from which the mice come (could totally be the title of a movie, yes?) Ten minutes later, don't I see the little bugger in there again trying to knock over the container (which I cleverly weighed down) to free his buddy. I ran over there with my container (Saku followed me, all excited, but stopped abruptly at the living room step) and got into position...until the I-have-a-death-wish mouse turned and ran straight at me. BAH! Yogurt container went flying and I made it to the living room step in about two enormous jumps (not bad for a pregnant lady eh?) and stood panting beside Saku- who was giving me a smug "told you so" look. WTF was up with this mouse?! Now I'm thinking, "does he have rabies?" Back to my chair, and I added oven mitts and an old wooden spoon to my arsenal. And Doc Martins...that I tucked my pants into (shut up and stop laughing- this is serious!) Sure enough, 25 minutes later The Steven Segal of the mouse world was back trying to free his trapped buddy. And true to form, he ran towards me instead of away to safety- but I had boots and oven mitts on this time bitch and I kinda held my ground. He played chicken with me until the last possible second and then zipped over towards the wall and started climbing my curtains!!!!!! ( Did you know mice could do this? I didn't.) I. Went. Postal. "Do you know how expensive these were?! Get off my fucking curtains!!" I yelled at him and attacked with the spoon. He flew off, landed hard, and zipped between a crack in the baseboards. I was pissed now- it just got personal. This back-and-forth continued until 11:30 pm; I was starting to get really discouraged: I was being outsmarted by a goddamn mouse. Finally, probably due to his exhaustion not my reflexes, I was able to catch the dare devil under the yogurt container. I put something heavy on top and called it quits. Nick could figure out how to get the lids on the containers without freeing the mice; my part of the hunt was done. My husband set our only trap in that same cupboard when he got home from work (good christ, why didn't I think of that?) and it got another one before we even went to bed.
Neither of us slept at all last night; every sound was thought to be the arrival of new hoards of mice, I kept sitting up and shaking out the duvet cover in case there were mice on it, Nick checked the kids' rooms every hour. Nick was disgusted (he did not grow up in a fixer upper, and to him, a house with mice in it is a dirty, gross home) and I had a sever case of the willies. We got up tired this morning and right after breakfast we bundled the kids up and went shopping for poison and traps. Lots of traps. We kept the cupboard empty, smeared peanut butter on a handful of traps, and put a child safety lock on the door. As I write this blog, two traps have snapped in there. I know this because Saku marched right up to the living room step...and waited for me to go look. Worst. Guard dog. Ever. Nick has already started trolling MLS to find a new house, and I am seriously considering hitting up the animal shelter this weekend to adopt a pet that will actually have my back during the next stand off...
I long for the good old days when our house was just old and crappy, not old, crappy, and infested, and when I was confident that I would not shriek and pee myself a little when a tiny grey fluff with a tail darts across our floor. Sigh.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
31 Day Challenge
Today was boring. Like poke your own eyes out kind of boring. Like change your marital status on Facebook just to get messages kind of boring. Like you could easily daydream for eight hours straight and not miss anything when you snap out of it kind of boring. I think that I have a touch of cabin fever, or Autumn induced anxiety, or restless leg syndrome. Or perhaps I'm stuck in another rut (I am getting fatter so it's harder to climb out of these pesky ruts...). I've become complacent again- content to let life merely happen instead of exerting the effort into making life fantastic; I vow to spice things up a considerably. I love this time of year- the smell and the ensuing crunch of leaves on the ground when stepped on, the bite in the air that welcomes jeans and sweaters out from the depths of closets everywhere, the aroma of chili and freshly baked bread coming from my kitchen. October is therefore the perfect month for me to challenge myself to get off my ass and quite simply put- be more damn fun. Here is my "31 Day Challenge" to do at least one different thing every day of this coming month.
In October I Will:
1st- Plan a free/uber cheap outing with Nick and the kids
2nd- Take the kids (and maybe the dog if I'm feeling stupid) for a walk down our road.
3rd- Play Wii's Just Dance 2 with Dryden for an hour.
Speech class with Lynn.
4th- Start and complete a craft project from my "Crafts I Love But Will Probably Never Do" list
5th- Go visit someone I haven't seen in a while.
Call Neesha just to chat.
6th- Write a letter to a friend.
7th- Decorate the house for Fall.
Take the dog for a walk.
8th- Date Night with Nick (Saturdays will soon be reserved for date nights with the Habs so I have to hurry)
9th- Take the kids to the park.
10th- Schedule a play date (for me and/or the kids.)
Speech class with Lynn.
11th- Visit someone else I haven't seen in a long time.
Call Karley just to chat.
12th- Dig out my scrapebooking stuff and work on finishing that last album.
13th- Do an outside craft with the kids.
Write a letter to a friend.
14th- Lunch date with Nick.
15th- Go to McMaze for a wagon ride and pumpkins.
16th- Go for a drive for poutins/ ice cream
17th- Do a Halloween craft with the kids.
Speech class with Lynn.
18th- Make a "blanket fort" in the living room and set up a tea party.
Call Ashley just to chat.
19th- Go for a walk solo.
Write a letter to a friend.
20th- Go visit someone I keep promising an outing with...lots of choice there actually :)
21st- Full on Spa Night: bubble bath, candles, Pepsi, new book, mani/pedi, facial, anything else I can manage before getting sleepy
22nd- Throw our annual B.Y.O.P Halloween Party!
23rd- Go out for breakfast- maybe invite some brave friends to join us?
24th- Have Erica/ Nyesha over for a play date lunch.
Speech class with Lynn.
25th- Go visit someone, anyone really.
Take the kids for a walk- definitely no dog this time, I already know it.
26th- Write a letter to a friend.
Call Marie to gossip...er...to chat.
27th- Play Wii with Dryden for an hour.
28th- Start and complete a craft project.
29th- Plan an outing with Nick
30th- Plan an outing with Nick and the kids...and maybe the dog. We'll see.
31st- Go visiting to hand out Halloween goodies to family and friends.
Take the kids trick or treating with Marie and Erica.
In October I Will:
1st- Plan a free/uber cheap outing with Nick and the kids
2nd- Take the kids (and maybe the dog if I'm feeling stupid) for a walk down our road.
3rd- Play Wii's Just Dance 2 with Dryden for an hour.
Speech class with Lynn.
4th- Start and complete a craft project from my "Crafts I Love But Will Probably Never Do" list
5th- Go visit someone I haven't seen in a while.
Call Neesha just to chat.
6th- Write a letter to a friend.
7th- Decorate the house for Fall.
Take the dog for a walk.
8th- Date Night with Nick (Saturdays will soon be reserved for date nights with the Habs so I have to hurry)
9th- Take the kids to the park.
10th- Schedule a play date (for me and/or the kids.)
Speech class with Lynn.
11th- Visit someone else I haven't seen in a long time.
Call Karley just to chat.
12th- Dig out my scrapebooking stuff and work on finishing that last album.
13th- Do an outside craft with the kids.
Write a letter to a friend.
14th- Lunch date with Nick.
15th- Go to McMaze for a wagon ride and pumpkins.
16th- Go for a drive for poutins/ ice cream
17th- Do a Halloween craft with the kids.
Speech class with Lynn.
18th- Make a "blanket fort" in the living room and set up a tea party.
Call Ashley just to chat.
19th- Go for a walk solo.
Write a letter to a friend.
20th- Go visit someone I keep promising an outing with...lots of choice there actually :)
21st- Full on Spa Night: bubble bath, candles, Pepsi, new book, mani/pedi, facial, anything else I can manage before getting sleepy
22nd- Throw our annual B.Y.O.P Halloween Party!
23rd- Go out for breakfast- maybe invite some brave friends to join us?
24th- Have Erica/ Nyesha over for a play date lunch.
Speech class with Lynn.
25th- Go visit someone, anyone really.
Take the kids for a walk- definitely no dog this time, I already know it.
26th- Write a letter to a friend.
Call Marie to gossip...er...to chat.
27th- Play Wii with Dryden for an hour.
28th- Start and complete a craft project.
29th- Plan an outing with Nick
30th- Plan an outing with Nick and the kids...and maybe the dog. We'll see.
31st- Go visiting to hand out Halloween goodies to family and friends.
Take the kids trick or treating with Marie and Erica.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Death by Play Dough & Other Random Thursday Occurances
A few things to note today. As Mommy, I have an official proclamation to make: Hear ye! Hear ye! From here on in, we at the Pomainville residence, will no longer be purchasing, or accepting, food scented play dough. Furthermore, play dough will only be played with on the dining room table, out of reach of enormous 100lbs dogs who cannot tell the difference (or don't care that there is a difference) between actual cherries, and a blob of soft, red plastic-y shit that smells vaguely like cherries. Nick's attention was diverted for 30 seconds while he dove to save Noelle from doing a face plant off the sofa and smashing any remaining teeth she still has in her little mouth; while his back was turned, Saku ate 1/2 a pound of play dough off the kiddie table that Dryden was playing with. Dryden, in turn, pitched a fit because he wanted his toy back (watch for it in the yard tomorrow my little friend) and kept making the sign for "more." Cute as that was...we only had the one container of play dough in the house...which was now inside the dog...which we now have to watch like a hawk to ensure that he doesn't barf on our brand frigging new carpet that we just had installed yesterday [ he has this quirk- he will only barf on carpet. I've watched him sprint around the house looking for a carpet to up-chuck on instead of heading to the door.] Also, I have two loads of freshly washed and dried laundry that has to be redone as Dryden insisted on wearing half of it while sitting on top of the other half as he ate a filled-to-the-brim blueberry fritter. Keep in mind, this was all accomplished in the 45 minutes that I was gone to my ultrasound.
I had yet another ultrasound today; they couldn't get pictures of the heart last time and the umbilical cord was between the fetus' legs so we weren't able to tell if the kids were getting a new brother or sister (I was betting on a boy- I was positive that I saw him flip the technician the bird...) So I waddled in there today, my fingers crossed. My legs were crossed too- I had to pee sooo badly. She was able to get all the heart pictures she needed and the little pound-of-butter sized baby waited until the last minute to open its legs and clue us in to what we'll be bringing home in the New Year. Before she told me (I can't tell what anything is on those ultrasounds. I usually just nod and say "oh yes, I see, the bladder, right...) the technician asked what we were hoping for: a boy or a girl?
This is a loaded question that Nick and I have been asked over and over again. We respond that it really doesn't matter, we just want a healthy baby and we always get The Face in response. The Face says, "What a crappy, unoriginal answer..." I know it is- I hate it when people give me bland, orchastrated answers like that too; however, to us a plain, regular old baby sounds great regardless of what color we get to dress it in. A boy would be fun for Dryden- a brother to play with, another boy to get into mischief with, a built-in buddy. The Pomainville brothers. It has a nice ring to it. They'll be sharing a room so the blue walls wouldn't need to be changed. Yeah, a boy would be great!
How about another daughter? I simply won't lie; deep in my heart of hearts, I would love another daughter. I don't know how to say this without diminishing the sheer amount of love I have for Noelle and the pure joy that she brings me every single day, but I would consider myself truly blessed to know the experience of having a typical daughter as well. I realize that I am asking to have my (triple layer, death by chocolate, covered in fudge icing) cake and eat it too, but if I am to be honest...then a daughter is what I was hoping for. When Noelle was born, I enjoyed her as a baby, but I also dreamed about the future: sports tournaments and dance recitals, slumber parties and spa trips, first dates and prom, sending her off to university, helping her plan a wedding, maybe holding her first child. It was fun to fantasize while I was up late, feeding her in the dark, deep silence of night. When we were first told that Noelle was special, I took a few days to secretly, and privately mourn the loss of the future that I had seen for her. My heart grieved for those milestones that I now knew she wouldn't experience. After a few days, I got over it. I don't know how, I don't remember what was said to me, or what I did to look past it but I did. And have never looked back. Why would I dwell on the things she can't or won't do? That seems stupid to me. I honestly look forward to the Noelley Milestones: play groups and new friends, first day of school and swimming lessons, pet and music therapy, graduating high school (who am I kidding- I'll be so fucking proud even if it is from the special class. Noelle will have an entire cheering section in the auditorium that day), and traveling the world with her father and I. I know she might not accomplish all of these things- I also know she'll accomplish one's that I haven't even thought of for her yet- that's what's so great about Noelle: she is such an unknown that we eagerly wait and watch every day to see what she will do, or at least try to do. I know that if we had another little girl I wouldn't compare the two- how could I? It would be like comparing warm brown butter glazed apple tart with lemon chiffon whipped cream to...vanilla ice cream. The first is far more complex, the second, a crowd pleaser. Pair them together though, and amazing! (Can you tell that I am pregnant? Everything relates back to my current cravings lol)
I waited a beat before answering the ultrasound technician and replied, "I kinda want both." She laughed and said, "Well, will you settle for a daughter? You'll have to try for a boy next time. Congratulations."
Wow. A little girl. I went home and was greeted with the play dough mayhem and shared the news. Nick and I were happy; Dryden is tickled that he'll have his very own baby (we've yet to break the news that she won't actually be his) and Noelle just made the sign that she wanted "more" chocolate pudding. She'll be happy that all her favorite baby toys will be resurfacing soon. Today, life seems pretty good. We're all happy and healthy- something we know never to take for granted- the kids hardly fought at all this afternoon, and Nick and I have a firm grip on the most important grace we've been given: the ability to accept the things that we cannot change and the knowledge that everything happens for a reason. Nick was able to sum up exactly how I felt when he said, "Now we'll have one of each: a boy, a girl, and a Noelley." xo
I had yet another ultrasound today; they couldn't get pictures of the heart last time and the umbilical cord was between the fetus' legs so we weren't able to tell if the kids were getting a new brother or sister (I was betting on a boy- I was positive that I saw him flip the technician the bird...) So I waddled in there today, my fingers crossed. My legs were crossed too- I had to pee sooo badly. She was able to get all the heart pictures she needed and the little pound-of-butter sized baby waited until the last minute to open its legs and clue us in to what we'll be bringing home in the New Year. Before she told me (I can't tell what anything is on those ultrasounds. I usually just nod and say "oh yes, I see, the bladder, right...) the technician asked what we were hoping for: a boy or a girl?
This is a loaded question that Nick and I have been asked over and over again. We respond that it really doesn't matter, we just want a healthy baby and we always get The Face in response. The Face says, "What a crappy, unoriginal answer..." I know it is- I hate it when people give me bland, orchastrated answers like that too; however, to us a plain, regular old baby sounds great regardless of what color we get to dress it in. A boy would be fun for Dryden- a brother to play with, another boy to get into mischief with, a built-in buddy. The Pomainville brothers. It has a nice ring to it. They'll be sharing a room so the blue walls wouldn't need to be changed. Yeah, a boy would be great!
How about another daughter? I simply won't lie; deep in my heart of hearts, I would love another daughter. I don't know how to say this without diminishing the sheer amount of love I have for Noelle and the pure joy that she brings me every single day, but I would consider myself truly blessed to know the experience of having a typical daughter as well. I realize that I am asking to have my (triple layer, death by chocolate, covered in fudge icing) cake and eat it too, but if I am to be honest...then a daughter is what I was hoping for. When Noelle was born, I enjoyed her as a baby, but I also dreamed about the future: sports tournaments and dance recitals, slumber parties and spa trips, first dates and prom, sending her off to university, helping her plan a wedding, maybe holding her first child. It was fun to fantasize while I was up late, feeding her in the dark, deep silence of night. When we were first told that Noelle was special, I took a few days to secretly, and privately mourn the loss of the future that I had seen for her. My heart grieved for those milestones that I now knew she wouldn't experience. After a few days, I got over it. I don't know how, I don't remember what was said to me, or what I did to look past it but I did. And have never looked back. Why would I dwell on the things she can't or won't do? That seems stupid to me. I honestly look forward to the Noelley Milestones: play groups and new friends, first day of school and swimming lessons, pet and music therapy, graduating high school (who am I kidding- I'll be so fucking proud even if it is from the special class. Noelle will have an entire cheering section in the auditorium that day), and traveling the world with her father and I. I know she might not accomplish all of these things- I also know she'll accomplish one's that I haven't even thought of for her yet- that's what's so great about Noelle: she is such an unknown that we eagerly wait and watch every day to see what she will do, or at least try to do. I know that if we had another little girl I wouldn't compare the two- how could I? It would be like comparing warm brown butter glazed apple tart with lemon chiffon whipped cream to...vanilla ice cream. The first is far more complex, the second, a crowd pleaser. Pair them together though, and amazing! (Can you tell that I am pregnant? Everything relates back to my current cravings lol)
I waited a beat before answering the ultrasound technician and replied, "I kinda want both." She laughed and said, "Well, will you settle for a daughter? You'll have to try for a boy next time. Congratulations."
Wow. A little girl. I went home and was greeted with the play dough mayhem and shared the news. Nick and I were happy; Dryden is tickled that he'll have his very own baby (we've yet to break the news that she won't actually be his) and Noelle just made the sign that she wanted "more" chocolate pudding. She'll be happy that all her favorite baby toys will be resurfacing soon. Today, life seems pretty good. We're all happy and healthy- something we know never to take for granted- the kids hardly fought at all this afternoon, and Nick and I have a firm grip on the most important grace we've been given: the ability to accept the things that we cannot change and the knowledge that everything happens for a reason. Nick was able to sum up exactly how I felt when he said, "Now we'll have one of each: a boy, a girl, and a Noelley." xo
Monday, September 12, 2011
Will Work For T-shirts
Miss Noelle was tired tonight. She fell asleep on my lap shortly after supper and remained sleeping and snoring softly after I tucked her into her big girl bed- a rarity. Now the question was: how to keep Dryden quiet so Noelle doesn't wake up (her bedroom is on the main floor, unlike the rest which are up on the second floor.) So I packed some snacks and drinks and took Mister upstairs. He was pouting miserably, stomping his displeasure out with each step up the stairs thinking he was being shipped off to bed. He perked up visibly when we passed his bedroom and continued down the dark hallway. "Oooo Momma's [room]" he said with a smile. I tucked him into our bed with his numerous babies and stuffed dogs (all of whom are unoriginally named "Saku"), put his snacks beside him on the bedside table, and popped in a DVD. I don't even feel the least bit guilty for letting Shrek babysit my youngest for the remaining hour and a half of the day. I, personally, am sick to death of Shrek so I took advantage of some spare time and spare energy - another rarity lately- and tackled part of my To Do List: I finished unpacking our bedroom.
I unpacked and organized my purged hoard of books and put them on the bookshelf and I finally finished unpacking my clothes. But I couldn't stop there. My dresser, closet, and armoire were bulging, threatening to burst the very next time I opened them. Dryden was busy, content to sing along and roar along with Shrek so I tentatively opened that can of worms: I organized my clothes. I put all the stuff that's slightly snug away (I'm the eternal optimist for my post-baby body), piled my sweaters according to color (don't feel bad, I hate me too right now) and unpacked my maternity clothes. I've definitely already dipped into that stash- do not be fooled; however, I was avoiding unpacking the entire box, choosing instead to root blindly around in there and wear whatever I managed to liberate from the box without taking the lid off completely. I purged through my assortment of shoes as well. A pair of flats, and a pair and a half of sandals (?) didn't make the cut. Their funeral will be held this Wednesday. Please, no flowers. And lastly, I went through my embarrassingly large collection of t-shirts. I tossed almost all of my "work" t-shirts (these are splattered with paint, plaster, modge podge, glitter, grout etc), an alarming number of tops that had a hole right at the belly button (they were otherwise fine...weird) and tons of Ts that were clearly too well worn to keep, some weren't even recognizable as usable tops. Am I the only one who keeps T-shirts until they almost disintegrate? Until they are almost...see through? If I'm not, then here's a shout out to all my other t-shirt hoarders...and if I am the only one- please don't judge.
I kinda forgot about Dryden while I was on my mad purge-a-thon. I caught a glimpse of him from beyond the pile of discarded clothes; he was fast asleep under our duvet...drooling on Nick's pillow. I carted him off to his room, making a second trip for all his babies/puppies- I kissed all of them too (I have a feeling Dryden zonked out before he could complete that part of his bedtime ritual) and tucked everyone in for the night.
Tomorrow, I might tackle the linen closet. Or not.
I unpacked and organized my purged hoard of books and put them on the bookshelf and I finally finished unpacking my clothes. But I couldn't stop there. My dresser, closet, and armoire were bulging, threatening to burst the very next time I opened them. Dryden was busy, content to sing along and roar along with Shrek so I tentatively opened that can of worms: I organized my clothes. I put all the stuff that's slightly snug away (I'm the eternal optimist for my post-baby body), piled my sweaters according to color (don't feel bad, I hate me too right now) and unpacked my maternity clothes. I've definitely already dipped into that stash- do not be fooled; however, I was avoiding unpacking the entire box, choosing instead to root blindly around in there and wear whatever I managed to liberate from the box without taking the lid off completely. I purged through my assortment of shoes as well. A pair of flats, and a pair and a half of sandals (?) didn't make the cut. Their funeral will be held this Wednesday. Please, no flowers. And lastly, I went through my embarrassingly large collection of t-shirts. I tossed almost all of my "work" t-shirts (these are splattered with paint, plaster, modge podge, glitter, grout etc), an alarming number of tops that had a hole right at the belly button (they were otherwise fine...weird) and tons of Ts that were clearly too well worn to keep, some weren't even recognizable as usable tops. Am I the only one who keeps T-shirts until they almost disintegrate? Until they are almost...see through? If I'm not, then here's a shout out to all my other t-shirt hoarders...and if I am the only one- please don't judge.
I kinda forgot about Dryden while I was on my mad purge-a-thon. I caught a glimpse of him from beyond the pile of discarded clothes; he was fast asleep under our duvet...drooling on Nick's pillow. I carted him off to his room, making a second trip for all his babies/puppies- I kissed all of them too (I have a feeling Dryden zonked out before he could complete that part of his bedtime ritual) and tucked everyone in for the night.
Tomorrow, I might tackle the linen closet. Or not.
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