Hair-brained

I am not a complete girlie-girl. I like clothes and make-up, but I'm willing to leave the house wearing sweats with a bare face when pressed for time. I've recently realized, however, that in the past year or so I've let myself go. I was sitting in the bath on the weekend and noticed one of my hairs on the edge of the tub. I picked it up to throw it out, and then took a closer look. The top half of the hair was dark, and only the bottom was my familiar blonde! I counted back on my fingers - it had been almost 12 months since I'd last had highlights or a cut! My self-image is incredibly intertwined with the state of my hair. I don't mean that I'm one of those women who spends hours styling and straightening their hair each morning, but despite numerous experiments with cuts and dye over the years, I always come back to the same look. I have long, blonde, curly hair. It has darkened somewhat over the years, hence the need for highlights, but is still firmly in the blonde camp. I don't necessarily look bad with a different colour or cut, I just don't think that I look like me.

Hubs and I had the most fun wedding. Ever. Seriously - ask anyone there. We had a big white tent put up in our backyard. We hired a fabulous dj and turned the stone patio Hubs had just put in into a dance floor. We spent most of our money on booze (the bartender from Hubs' rugby pub volunteered to tend bar for free, of course he ended up taking home one of my single friends, arguably the hottest girl at the wedding, so he made out alright) and the most fabulous caterer. We had the perfect August day, and all our guests came casual and relaxed. The minister was almost 2 hours late (we inadvertantly scheduled our wedding for the same weekend as Taste of the Danforth, despite living right around the corner) but it didn't matter. We opened the bar, the caterers brought out delicious hors d'oeurves, and the dj played some tunes. It was almost a shame to interrupt the party for the ceremony.

But here's the thing. You will never see a photo of our wedding. We didn't hire a professional photographer, but we have hundreds and hundreds of shots taken by our guests. Hubs regrets not hiring a professional, and although I nod my head along with him, I am secretly thrilled that we didn't. I hate all of the wedding photos. I had terrible hair. At the time of our wedding I was growing out a really short haircut, and some red hair dye. My hairdresser tried to make it blonde for me, and it helped, but it still wasn't right. In retrospect, I should have put the wedding off for a year until my hair was right. Still, best party ever.

I made it to my hairdresser on Tuesday. She had a good laugh at the state of my coiffure, and my state of panic, but she made me a blonde bombshell once again. Gentlemen may not prefer blondes, and blondes may not really have more fun, but I prefer ME blonde, and I fully expect to have a lot more fun now that my hair is as it should be once again.

Florence Nightingale

Yesterday morning.....

Me (muttering to myself): Ugh. Hubs gave me his cold. I think I'm going to throw up.

Princess: Oh poor mommy! Once when I was sick you made me a special bed on the sofa and you gave me a bowl and I put my throw-up in that! So it's okay mommy, I'll take care of you! What colour bowl do you want to put your throw-up in?

As it turns out, I wasn't sick, but I'm awfully lucky to have such a good and willing nurse.

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I'm down another 2 lbs, for a total of 10. Good thing too, because the Princess spent an hour and a half trying on all of her bathing suits and summer clothes yesterday, so she could decide what to pack for 'Flor-da'. (We're not going until April) I'm going to need to go shopping for something fabulous just to be seen with her!

Badness loves herself a sale!

If any of you have kids and have a Children's Place near you, they're having a huge sale. I got jeans for the Princess (with the adjustable waist) for $3 a pair. And a winter coat for Bad for next winter, and fleece jammies for me that match the kids Christmas ones for $9.99. Lots of stuff for 99 cents, and 50% off their sale prices on all kinds of things. Go. Go now.

Muffin top

I promised this muffin recipe to Anna, and decided to post it here in case any one else needs something yummy and healthy to keep on hand to feed themselves....and any greedy little snack swiping children they might have lurking about.

It started as a recipe in the LoonySpoons cookbook, but I found it had a lot of annoying ingredients and dirtied too many dishes so I've changed it. A lot. It's even better now. The original recipe was for 12 large muffins, but I make 18 - 24 with the same amount of batter. They're the perfect size for little kids and mommies trying to eat well, and daddies can always have two. If you make 18, and don't add any extras, each muffin has 89 cal (or 2 points), I also figured out the fat and fibre for you, but I've lost the piece of paper.

1 1/4 c rolled oats
1 1/2 c milk or water
1 1/2 c flour (wholewheat for preference, but all-purpose is fine)
1/4 c wheat germ (optional)
1 c unpacked brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 egg
1/2 c unsweetened applesauce
1 tsp vanilla

Optional: 1 c extras - chocolate chips, unsweetened coconut, chopped nuts, dried fruit, or a combination

Preheat oven to 325 F

Pour milk or water over oats in a medium bowl (if you're using quick cook oats, cold liquid is fine. If you're using the large flake kind, heat the liquid up in the microwave for a minute or two first)

In a large bowl combine flour, wheat germ, sugar, baking powder and soda, salt, and cinnamon.

Whisk egg, vanilla and applesauce and add to oat mixture. Stir.

Add oat mixture to the dry ingredients and stir just to combine. Stir in extras if using.

Line muffin tins with paper cups or spray with non-stick spray. Divide batter among cups. Bake for 25 min, or until cake tester comes out clean.

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The plain ones look a little small and sad, but they don't taste that way. They're moist and a little sweet. People not trying to lose weight like them buttered, with cheese, or the Princess's favourite - spread with Nutella.

A Girl and her Dog....

Yesterday some of you thanked me for reminding you not to get a dog. I feel a little guilty. I can't deny that it can be a huge pain, Sally has cost us big time in both time and money - but she was our first baby. We got her from a shelter on the Friday before Thanksgiving, 2 months after we were married. She was 9 weeks old. Her entire litter had been abandoned, and she was the last puppy adopted. We weren't the first to adopt her, but the first family returned her because their son was allergic. We brought her home and she did nothing but sit in my lap for days. She wouldn't even respond to a cookie or ball. Hubs worried that she was too placid. Um....no.

The dog is a runner. A jumper. A world-class chewer. I won't bother to inventory the household items she destroyed in the early days before we crated her. (Always and only when we left her alone...she had a massive case of separation anxiety that lasted almost 5 years.) Suffice it to say that the list includes a sofa and a fire extinguisher.

The Princess was born when Sally was 2 years old. We weren't sure what behaviour to expect from our pooch, but any jealousy she may have felt was overruled by her immense joy at having me home every day on maternity leave. She soon became extremely protective of 'her' baby, and would run to me and bark whenever the Princess cried, and then back to her station at the side of the crib.

Do they look guilty to you too?

The love was mutual. The Princess's first word was 'dog'. And then 'Oh! dog'. And then 'Sal'. She finally deigned to learn 'mom' and 'dad' sometime after that. In the mornings, when the Princess woke up, she would look around the room and call "Dog! Dog!" If I said "Sally's in the other room honey," my girl would start to cry. I'd call "Sally!" and the minute we heard the jangle of Sally's tags the Princess would laugh and clap.

Puppy Love

Just after we'd moved to our new house, when Sally was 3 and the Princess was 1, we dropped Sally off at the beauty salon for the morning. When we got home I put away our coats and looked around for the Princess. She was sitting in Sally's crate, tears running down her cheeks, crying, "Oh dog....oh dog.....oh dog." I had to laugh at those confused little tears.

Hallowe'en '04 - A sheep and a wolf in sheep's clothing

Our dog is good with kids, and has the patience of a saint. When the Princess was about 16 months old she dropped her cookie on the floor and Sally ate it. The Princess was furious. I still see this scene in slow motion. She stood up and grabbed both sides of Sally's mouth and pulled them outwards. She put her nose to Sally's and screamed. And screamed. I was sure she was going to be bitten and I raced across the room to them. Sally just waited until the baby let go, shook her head, and left the room. She hasn't taken food from her since. So yes. The dog is a pain in the ass. But she's our pain in the ass. I can't believe she's 6 already.

Road Trip

We took the kiddies and the dog and went to visit my parents for the weekend. I love going home. Mostly, I just love my mom and dad, but there a bunch of practical reasons I love it there too:

1. I have someone to talk to when Hubs is reading the paper or taking a nap.

2. I always get to pee by myself. My mom will always hold the kids, and unlike Hubs, she never lets them come and get me from the bathroom.

3. My parents are great cooks. They always have yummy food in the house, and if they're out of something my mom is happy to go to the grocery store 3 times in one day.

4. I have time to read.

5. There are 2 extra people to chase Bad and rescue him from danger.

Sigh. I wish they lived closer.

It was a lovely weekend, except for the drive home. Somehow, even though it was discussed, the Princess didn't go pee before leaving my parents. We were barely 1/2 an hour from my parents house when the pee-pee dance started. We made it to a Timmy's just off the highway, but stopping made the dog wake up and start howling, which made Bad wake up and start howling.

We got back on the 401 (at that point a 6-lane highway) and the idiot dog jumped over the backseat and onto the Princess. Hubs pulled over, wrestled Sally into the back, and tied her leash to the seat. We'd barely gone 100m when she jumped into the backseat again - but this time she was tied up so she was strangling herself and thrashing to get free. Everyone was howling. Hubs pulled over again, got the dog in the back again, and I crawled into the backseat between the car seats so I could keep the dog off the kids. I had to turn around and push her down 5 times before we'd even got started again.

We'd gone about 200 m when Hubs says "Where are my glasses?" He pulled over again, searched the console and his pockets and hit the dash in frustration. "I heard a crunch when we pulled away the second time. I must've run over my own damn glasses!" I was almost ready to let the dog take her chances in traffic, but Hubs has a huge soft spot for our stupid canine. "I don't know what got into her...she's never done that before. Bad was crying, she must've wanted to help him...that's the only thing I can think of...." You're sweet Hubs. But delusional.

Halfway home we stopped at a friend's to meet their new baby girl. (I love me some other people's babies!) The Princess and Sally both got tired out running around with their friends, and slept the rest of the way home, for which Hubs and I are eternally grateful. We must have missed the weather report because it was sunny when we stopped, but snow squalls when we left again. Luckily our friends called us 10 minutes after we'd left to warn us that the highway we would usually take home was closed due to a massive 100 car pile-up. We had to take back roads, but at least we weren't stuck sitting for hours in traffic with no options.

Hubs is a very calm driver in snow conditions but ever since having babies I've become a nervous wreck. It irritates him when I'm jumpy but I just can't help myself. I was sooo glad to see our dear house. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. If only it were that easy.

Oh - and the Monday 'Fatness Jones' update - I lost 2 more lbs this week, for a total of 8. Yay me!

The Universe is having a laugh at my expense.....

Remember my saga with the passport photos? I got the applications filled in and signed by a guarantor, and took them to the passport office today. The government rejected the boy's passport photo. Apparently the diameter of his face was almost 1/16th of an inch smaller than they require. I know! How could I have missed such a glaring fault?

I took him back to the photo place and every time I sat him on the stool in front of the camera he started to cry. They finally got a photo, but when they printed it the outline of his head was blue. They tried to convince me that it'd be fine, but I've heard that before. I made them take it again, and bribed Bad not to cry with a Kit-Kat. Blue halo again. The photographer had no clue what was causing it (actually, the photographer had no clue. Period.) but assured me that it would be fine. I have serious doubts about this, and told her that if this photo is rejected I'll be getting it taken elsewhere and will expect a full refund.

I went back to the passport office. I'm going to be getting photos taken elsewhere and expecting a full refund.

After we got home I noticed that Bad is cutting 4 molars today. Good times.

Blech.

That's how I'm feeling today. That's how this blog has been lately. I posted here today, just in case you haven't had enough blech to suit you.

Snow Rage

The kids and I spent an hour outside building a snowman yesterday. The Princess was very excited, and very proud, because she rolled the biggest snowball all by herself. Snowmen have been a big deal around here this winter, because I was a bad mommy last year, when Bad was a newborn, and didn't take her out to play in the snow at all. All summer I heard, "but all my friends at little school know how to make a snowman Mommy....and I don't! When is it going to snow again? When? Do you PROMISE you will help me build a snowman? PROMISE?!"

Didn't she do a good job? It's the coolest snowman I've seen this year....

So maybe I'm angrier than I should be, but a couple of d**kheads decided to push and kick it over on their way home from school yesterday. I guess they thought it was funny to make a 4-year old shake with sobs that she didn't get to spend enough time with her snowman....that she didn't get to show it to her daddy....that it didn't get to melt on it's own 'like Frosty'. I guess it made them feel tough. They'd better just hope I don't catch them....I don't know what I'd do to them, exactly....but it needs to be bad....give me some ideas....?

The good, the bad, and the ugly....but not in that order

It was a long weekend. The boy was up coughing again, and my husband has a cold. He didn't drag himself out of bed until 11:30 yesterday. I don't seem to recall being allowed to sleep in when I was sick....and he was on holidays. Apparently he has a Man cold, and that's different.

I didn't get out to run either. I walked a couple times. But! I ate really well and I lost 6 pounds! I posted on the weekend about losing 5, and then I got on the scale before posting this morning...just in case...and I'd lost one more! If I keep this up I may just get over my phobia of scales.....

And Bad! Drank out of a bottle yesterday! 5 ounces! I may actually be able to wean him before he starts Kindergarten! Woohoo!

Eeeewwww.......

"Mommy, Mommy! Your son got something from the bath-rooomm!

The toilet brush. Yuck. Why does he always do this to me?

And a big mmm-wuh! for all of you too...

On the way to school today, the Princess was walking beside Bad as he rode in the stroller. She reached down and took his hand. He looked up at her and said "mmm-wuh!" She looked at him and made a kissing sound. His smile went right to his eyes and he said it again, "mmm-wuh! mmm-wuh!" She blew him more kisses. They went back and forth, kissing and giggling, holding hands, all the way to school.

Just when I think my heart is going to break with hurting, they patch it back together with pure joy. They do it every time.

Insomnia is a Blogger's best friend....

My inimitable friend Karen has tagged me to do the Think Different challenge. To take something negative in my thoughts or life and think it different. To think it better. I'm flattered that she thinks I have such a post in me! I'm too lazy to tell you all the rules, but she is a far better blogger than I, so you can go and read them along with her entry.




I complain a lot about sleep in this blog. And in real life. My sleep deprivation is real, but I know that it is also temporary. Somehow, I have to keep that fact at the forefront of my mind, as a talisman to get me through the day. I complain about Hubs sleeping in and not getting up to help me and the kids start the day. It irks me. The truth is that he's not all bad. Hubs works about a gazillion hours a week at the company he started last year. His dedication and stamina astound me. I sometimes complain that he loves his company more than us, but I think he works so hard for us. So that I can stay home with the kids while they're small. So that we can build a better life. I am proud of him.

Hubs isn't going to start getting up at the crack of dawn with us anytime soon. I need to just accept that and move on. The kids have accepted it, the dog has accepted it, they don't even bother going to his side of the bed. I need to be thankful that I have a husband who works hard, and is such a good dad once he does wake up. No one can win the argument we've been having. I am busy. Hubs is busy. I am tired. Hubs is tired. Life with 2 small children, a fledgling company, a century home and a black dog is bound to have some ups and downs. It's time to just stop bickering and move on.

Thanks Karen.

Someone call a doctor....it's my heart

We've been having some discipline problems with the Princess lately. Tantrums, defiance, pushing her brother; all behaviours that are out of the norm for her. I think we got to the root of it this morning.....make that 3:30 this morning.

"Mom! Mommy!" I stumbled out of my bed and went to hers. Climbed under the covers and gave her a cuddle. Ten minutes later we heard a wail from the other room. I kissed the Princess's head and climbed back out of bed to go and feed the boy. As I left the room I heard an anguished cry:

"Mommy, you were mine first! You were mine first!" I picked Bad up and brought him into her room so that we could talk while I nursed him. (I tried to get some spousal assistance, but it was patently NOT forthcoming.)

"I like when you're with ME Mommy."

"I like being with you too sweetheart."

"You spend too much time being with Bad. I liked it when you were all mine."

"I miss having more time with you too hon, but your brother needs me. I love you both."

"When Bad be's naughty you pick him up and laugh and play with him. Why don't you do that when I be's naughty?"

Could I get some help picking my heart up off the floor and putting it back together now, please?

Christmas, you b*tch!

Um, remember how I said I wanted to lose 25 lbs? Well I got on the scale again on Saturday, and it appears that I want to lose 32. I gained 7 lbs! on the holidays. Sigh, I guess these weren't such a good idea. Moving on. I spent all last week getting ready to lose weight. I emptied the house of crap, I planned meals, I shopped for all manner of fruits and veggies. I made low-fat muffins to freeze, and a huge pot of vegetable soup to keep in the fridge that I can eat guiltlessly when needed to get me through the first week. I bought myself a pretty little notebook to write down everything I eat. I've made it two days, and already I feel virtuous. The trip we're planning to Florida is providing a nice little incentive to get on with it already. I don't think I'll be able to lose all of it by then, but I would like to lose the first 20. So make me accountable friends. I'm going to step on the scale every Monday and tell you how I've done.

Running update: A combination of snow, ice and a hacking cough like a 3-pack a day habit have kept me from running. I fell down our front stairs holding Bad on Christmas Eve and banged up my leg, but I'm lucky I didn't hurt any joints. I have been walking almost daily, and now that the snow is melting I will speed up once more.

And if you're not sick of my diet talk yet....

Weekly Winners...It's been a Bad week...

Go check out the rest of Lotus's wonderful Weekly Winners Meme, there are always some fabulous participants. I can't for the life of me get the link button to load this morning.....I guess Blogger's hacked off with me again about something....I'm pretty sure Blogger's a man....

The obligatory spaghetti face shots -

Aren't you glad he's pointing at ME to clean him up?

He DOES have blocks

Peek-a-boo!

Don't I look handsome?

Thanks for the new sweater Grandma! Mommy bought me shoes to match!

It lives!

Some of you may be saying to yourselves "um, yeah Badness, it's some paperwhites....so?" You have obviously never witnessed the peculiar phenomenon of a plant that shrivels up and dies the moment I walk into a room, choosing the speed and relative painlessness of suicide over the unwitting but inevitable long, drawn out tortuous death it would receive at my hands.

The Princess and I were given a kit for forcing paperwhite bulbs at a baby shower in late November. She was thrilled, and I was quaking in fear. I have black thumbs. My hanging baskets die every year, and they stay up, dry and brown, mocking me, until after Hallowe'en. The Princess still bemoans the death of the beautiful purple flowers she chose to plant there. She wanted to grow the paperwhites so I planted the bulbs, despite my misgivings. And lo and behold! I kept them alive long enough to see them bloom! They didn't flower in time for Christmas - though they would have if I hadn't left the box on the counter, afraid to touch it, for almost two weeks. The Princess claps for every new flower....score one for mommy.

Bonnie and Clyde

My sister and I are planning to take all the babies to Florida for a week in March or April. This means getting a passport for Bad, and since the Princess's expires at the end of March, getting hers renewed. I went to Wal-mart yesterday to pick up photo prints I'd ordered online, and there was no line-up at the photo studio. I decided to get their passport photos taken.

Wal-mart guy: "I can't take her picture."

Me: "Why not?"

Wal-mart guy: "She's wearing white. She needs to be wearing a colour. But no black. Preferably red or green."

Me: (after the big discussion about WHY) "Alright, I'll just run into the store and buy something." I mean, it's Wal-mart, what's a t-shirt here worth? $5? It's way easier than coming back.

Wal-mart guy: "You can do it anytime, it only takes 5 minutes."

Me: (Thinking: If you think that, you have obviously never tried getting these two out the door) "No, I don't want to have to come back later, I'll just go grab something and come right back."

Wal-mart guy: "OK."

We went straight to the children's section and grabbed a plain purple t-shirt (purple's kind of like red, and even if it is only $5 I would like her to wear it again). We stood in line, paid, and were back at the photo studio within 10 minutes. The lights were all off. There was a big sign saying someone would be back at 3:00. It's 1:00 now. WTF?! He went to lunch?!! Let me just say that my kids got to learn some pretty good swear words from their mommy.

I loaded the kids back in the car and we headed to the Supercentre to return a shirt for my mom. As we were walking in I noticed that there wasn't a line-up at their photo studio. I asked about the passport photos, and they told me there was nothing wrong with the Princess's shirt, but it'd be 10 minutes or so because the photographer who usually does the passport photos is upstairs in a meeting. Fine. I returned the shirt and went back. The girl was still upstairs, but another photographer took their pictures. (That's not as simple as it sounds, the kids aren't allowed to smile, they have to be looking directly at the camera and their head has to be positioned so that they're not casting any shadows. Frankly, it's ridiculous). The guy goes to print the photos and realizes he has to change the cartridge in the printer. He tells me to come back in 10 minutes.

We go. We come back. He sheepishly tells me that he didn't adjust for the lighting properly and the photos have to be taken again, but it's okay, because the passport photo girl is back. She asks me if I have any Cheerios. What? For Bad...apparently he has to have his mouth closed in the photo. I drag the kids through the grocery checkout and get a candy bar to feed Bad so he'll close his mouth. (The Princess's half is a bribe so she'll consent to having her photo taken. Again.) 10 more minutes of cajoling Bad to look in the right direction and we have our pictures.

I hope the government is happy. All that effort for photos that make my beautiful children look like escaped convicts:

Watch out for these two - they're obviously to be considered armed and extremely dangerous!!

....but it's not a resolution....

I hate scales. I have a phobia. When I was pregnant I refused to look at the scale during all my weigh-ins, and the nurses knew not to say the number out loud. There was never a problem. During labour with Bad, the anesthetist asked my weight, and perplexed when I didn't know, continued asking. Finally Hubs yelled "She stood backwards on the scale! What's not to get? She'd never tell you the truth with me in here anyway....just look it up in her chart!" God love him, he knows me.

Around the time I wrote this post, I sucked it up and stood on the scales Hubs uses to weigh packages for shipping. Gah! I knew I hadn't lost all the baby weight, but....gah! I decided then and there that I would lose it all before my birthday. I've put off starting until now, because I like me some Christmas goodies, and sick of food after all that gluttony seemed a good starting place. I thought about starting a second blog to chart my food intake and progress, and calling it 'fatness jones' but if any of you did that I'd march over and smuck you upside the head for being mean to my friend, so I'll do my journalling offline and just give you a weekly update.

I blame some of the weight on Hubs, some on the Princess, and some on Bad, but as none of them has held me down and forced Oreos down my throat I guess I'll just have to own up to some of that blame myself. I'm gonna drink some water and walk the dog now....might as well get started!