Ok wait, I got something!

I swear to the universe, I am going to write a Parenting book and it is only going to have one chapter, and one sentence. Here is an excerpt from my future book, free for all you blog faces (ok, it's the whole book, whatevs. Saves me actually having to find a publisher).

Chapter 1: Get a Dog

Seriously, get a dog. 

That's pretty much all my book needs to say. I can not even begin to tell you the amount of time my dog, Jo, has saved me. In terms of clean up I mean, it's not like she changes diapers or anything. But with the clean up, holy moly, I should rename her Molly Maid!! Especially with our youngest, Owen. Between his amazing arm, and the frequency, intensity and joy he gets out of chucking his food across my house, I can't decide if he is going to be the next John Elway (shout out Colorado!), or an amazing splatter paint artist. I don't care which one he turns out to be, as long as he uses his first paycheck to buy me new carpet (or better yet, hardwood floors).

Anyways, poor Jo has really taken one for the team. She used to be an amazing, slim, super Frisbee catching dog, but with each child, she has gained a few pounds due to her new clean up duty. I fear that after Owen, she might not be able to walk anymore. 

making sure there are no crumbs on their faces.

Ya, she can NOT fit in that bed anymore.

making sure this foreign object does not need to be cleaned up.

ok, sorry, how could I not put this here, it's adorable!

she even picks up Easter eggs for us! That is dedication.

She can barely get up or down these stairs now, so she definitely wouldn't be stopping on them!

Whoa, cake clean up overload!

Now she's a sell out. She naps with cats. And, for the record, that is just a doll she is smothering, not one of the children.

Uh...

I got nothin.

Winter fun...

I am so glad it's winter in Canada. Now I can finally play some of my all time favourite games. The other day for example, I played a top level game I like to call Fight or Flight Fantasy IV. It was like -67 degrees Celsius here, and good old Droid left the car on empty for me. As I started to fill 'er up, I thought, no way am I going to make it all the way, I am putting in $15 and that is it. That was like level one. I beat level one easy peasy, so I decided to dare myself to make it to $30. Level two was a little more difficult. I found myself staring at the counter, which was creeping up at mega slow mode, and some high, cold winds kicked in around me. I almost threw in the towel. But I held out and beat level two.

At this point I decided I could totally beat the boss and achieve full tank master level, but I had to develop some serious strategies. So I turned away from the counter and started to people watch. I totally enjoyed watching as I beat out a lady driving a Hummer. She maybe put in 5 bucks before she called it quits.  That's when I hit my stride, and before I knew it, bingo bango baby! Full tank master status! Mission full tank of gas on a mega cold windy morning complete!

I also seem to be playing Match That Grizzly Bear. That's where you see how much fat you can store up during the winter, and well, the term leg beard also comes into play. If you play it right, by spring, you look like a grizzly bear. I'm not actually a fan of this game, but I seem to be playing it anyways.

So ya... good times all around.

Paparazzi...

So today I decided to follow Droid around and take his picture a lot to see if he could handle the pressure of the paparazzi. He did pretty good to be honest, which is kind of a bummer because I was hoping for a major freak out so I could get some good shots for all you blog faces. He only got grumpy once when he was trying to watch the hockey game (he looks pretty grumpy in most of the pics, but that's just his face). And, just like Britney, Paris and all the major starlets, he did attempt to fake a wardrobe malfunction. Don't worry, I did not post that picture. I was looking for car smashing with an umbrella Britney, not going commando Britney.

Enjoy, and just imagine some major star, like Randy Quaid or something instead of Droid. These would be high price shots, man!!

                                     

You know what I love?

I love memories that are triggered by your senses.

For example, the smell of hand sanitizer always reminds me of when Dani (our daughter) was first born (she was in the NICU for 2 weeks so we used a whack load of that stuff!) Every time I smell it, I am transported right back to caring for that tiny little thing, and I can almost feel her so soft skin...

Every year around the end of winter, beginning of spring, I walk outside and there is this feel to the air, that reminds me of when Droid and I first met and I was realizing that I really was falling in love with this random dude I met on the internet (I know. I really can't believe I typed that sentence either. Even though it isn't as strange now as it was back then, we still cringe sometimes when people ask how we met. But that is another blog for another day) Anyways, that feel in the air reminds me of the excitement, hope and new beginnings I felt way back then.

But there is one memory triggered by my senses that I wish I could undo.

In University, I took a Mystery Fiction course. I don't know why, probably to impress Droid, but we were married at the time, so I guess I didn't realize I didn't need to impress him any more. We were reading the book The Black Dahlia by James Ellroy. It's based on the true story of a gruesome unsolved murder of a young woman. It really was a good read and was quite interesting. However, I sat down to do some research on the history and the murder in order to write my paper on the book, and I decided to have a snack while I did so. Craisons. You know, those yummy little dried cranberries?

Well, there I am munching on some craisons, googling away. And of course, horrible images come up on the screen!! Of the murder stuff! ugh! I feel sick to my stomach now just typing this out, thinking about craisons mixed with those images!!

So now, to this day, over 9 years later, I can barely eat craisons. And I try, because I like the little stinkers. But I kid you not, as soon as I look at them, I gag. I am trying to work through it, but seriously, just the other day, I opened up a new bag, and as soon as the smell hit my nose- I wanted to vomit. But, I still forced myself to put them on my salad (if you don't have any bad connections, they are mega good on salads!), but I know I made a face with every bite.

Ugh, even thinking about craisons right now I feel sick.

I'm going to go smell some hand sanitizer.

Pretty deep stuff....

If I was a cannibal, this is what my blog would say:

I am a people person. I feed off of people. Literally.


Gross. (that's not what my blog would say if I was a cannibal. That is what my blog says now)

Don't be mad at me...

I am going to ruffle some feathers here. Stir up some controversy. Some of you will feel very strongly about what I am about to say. And I'm sorry, but it needs to be said.

I am not at all a racist, prejudice, judgmental or ignorant person. I do not care about the colour of your skin, the religion you chose to follow, where you were born, where you live. Whatevs. We are all human beings, and that is all that matters to me. I do not even see those things when I look at you, I just see another human.

However, there is one group of people I just can't understand. And I don't know if I ever will. I am talking about those of you that prefer dark chocolate over milk chocolate.

Unfortunately, this group involves a lot of people very close to me. And I know they are going to be upset with me about this, but I can't help it. Dark chocolate is bitter. It's main ingredient is cocoa for goodness sakes. Sounds a little too much like caca for me.

Hey, by all means. You go ahead and enjoy your dark chocolate. I'm glad it makes you happy, and apparently it's "better" for you anyways. I'm just saying. I might make a face if I watch you eat it. And I will always kinda think that there is something wrong with you and that you must be in major need of a tongue transplant. I think instead of leaving my lungs to someone, on my donor card I'm totally going to offer up my taste buds. I think in the end, the person who receives my taste buds (or maybe it would have to be my whole tongue. I'm not a scientist or a doctor. obviously), will realize what I'm talking about and be extremely thankful.

(OMG I'm totally scared I just cursed myself by joking about donating my organs. But I'm going to go ahead and post this anyways)