They're too smart for my own good...

Hubs was in Buffalo last night, leaving me to fend for the kiddos alone. After a supremely nutritious dinner of no-name mac & cheese and easter chocolate I took them upstairs for an abbreviated bath. (It was supposed to be a loooonnng bath, during which I would flit in and out of the room while simultaneously cleaning up and doing laundry, but they splashed half the water out of the tub onto the floor and I had a temper tantrum.)

I had heaved Bad's futon mattress down the stairs and set up a big bed in front of the telly so that we could have a cuddly sleepover downstairs, but my monsters were more inclined to use it as a landing pad, jumping repeatedly off the sofa. After admonishing them repeatedly to "just lie down already!" I threatened to make them sleep upstairs in my bed.

"NO MOMMY! NO! We want to have a sleepover!"

"But nobody is being good!" They both immediately fell into bed beside me, and Bad climbed on my chest, looked into my eyes and said, both earnest and straight-faced, "Yes Mommy! YOU is bein' good."

From there the night dissolved into laughter, and tickles, and cuddles, and sleep.

The Longest Month

February may technically be the shortest month, but it's so spectacularly crap-tastic that the misery it inflicts on me makes it drag on forever. The days are cold and grey and ugly, and while they linger, so am I.

I've been trying to pull myself out of this funk, to make myself write to you about good things, but really I only want to complain. I want to complain to you that my husband refuses to fold towels the way I've shown him. Complain that no amount of expensive cream or Vaseline will stop my hands and heels from cracking. Complain that I've been putting on weight since Bad was weaned and I don't know how to make it stop.

I'd pushed all these half-written raving blog posts out of my head and started to list my blessings; but then, this morning, the unthinkable happened. We ran out of jam.

Now, I've never been big on jam before; but this summer, on the most beautiful June day, we took the kids to pick strawberries. We bounced along on the wagon ride out to the field, and the berries were tiny and firm, jewel-bright and bursting with forgotten strawberry flavour. Within minutes we'd picked 10 pounds. And if they'd bothered to weigh Bad along with our containers on our way in and out, they may have charged us for a pound or two more.

Strawberries are disgusting frozen, so 10 pounds of berries meant jam. I googled recipes, and then I googled for help understanding the recipes. And then the kids and I sliced berries and boiled them up with nothing but sugar and fresh lemon juice. We bottled it up, and printed some labels.



Just taking the jar out of the fridge made me smile, and the jam itself was amazing. Every time I spread a little on a fresh muffin or scone it took me back to that day. Like a little bit of sunshine for breakfast. Bad wanted to eat it with a spoon. And now it's all gone and I'm kicking myself for giving any away. I blame February.

Silver Linings

I woke up this morning with my nose as stuffed up and useless as if it had been filled with cement. My head was pounding. My tongue was thick with the disgusting film that breathing through your mouth all night brings. I moaned in distress, "I'm sick!" Through my haze of misery I detected a little niggling at the back of my brain. I lay still and let it swim to the front where I could catch it - drugs. Drugs! Glorious drugs! Bad is weaned. For the first time in almost 3 years, I can take a decongestant. I can take painkillers stronger than a regular Tylenol. For the first time in 3 years, and after countless colds and sinus infections suffered in stoic and drug-free silence, I can take medicine! What's more, I can take it without first staging a finger-wagging internal debate. Yay! I'm off to Shoppers now, to lay claim to my own little slice of pharmaceutical heaven.

xo Badness

Look what I got!!

We had a wonderful Christmas at the House of Bad. The kids were thrilled with all of their presents, and even more thrilled at having a house full of family. I got some wonderful things, but I want to show you my favourites, both of which were courtesy of my Dad this year.

He MADE me this Santa.



And gave me this memory.



Thanks Dad.

It's a good thing I have no shame....

For the first time ever, after almost 3 years (total) of nursing, I have a clogged milk duct. It is painful, and I am trying to prevent it becoming full-blown mastitis. So that's why, when the courier came to the door just now, he was able to peer through the window and watch me standing at the counter, shirt up, hand-expressing breast milk into the kitchen sink.

No bikini for Badness

I was holding my shirt up and lamenting the condition of my stomach to Hubs this morning. "I knew that the skin would never be the same after Bad was born, but I think it might be getting worse now that I'm losing weight. I think the fat was helping to plump things out. It's saggy and wrinkled! Wah!!"

Hubs lifted his shirt and patted his own tummy and said, "I think your tummy's cute, but you don't have the sexy firmness I do."

"I want skin like the Princess!" I whined.

I hadn't realized that the girlie was listening in until she piped up, "Mommy, but my skin is SO soft!"

"I know....that's why I like it." I crouched down to look at her and she patted my cheek. "Don't worry mommy, you can touch my skin!"

"I can?"

"Sure!" And off she pranced, having solved all the problems of the world.

I want skin like the Princess....wah!!! And I could do with a dose of her attitude, too.

Why? Why?!

This morning, much too early, here at the House of Bad:

Me: Princess? Where are you?

Princess: In the kitchen!

Me: What are you doing?

Princess: Shaking off my hands. They got wet.

Me: How did they get wet?

No answer

Me: Princess...how did your hands get wet?

No answer again, but I notice her eyes keep darting to my glass of water.

Me: (incredulous) Did you put your hands in my water?

Princess: Well it was right there!

Me: So? I don't put my hands in your drinks, do I? Why would you do that?

Princess: Mo-o-om! My hands were really not clean!

Me: And you think I want to drink your dirt?!

No answer

Me: If your hands catch fire and my drink is the closest source of water, you can put them in it. Until then, use the sink to wash them! Or get a baby wipe if you're lazy.....can you please take this glass to the kitchen and get me a new drink? And use a clean glass....

Princess: Ok mommy. That's just what I was going to do anyway.

Me: Hmm. Thanks.

I have a feeling it's going to be even harder to get down those 8 glasses a day now....yuck!

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.

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!

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....?

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?

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!!

Badness Jones' Emporium of Baked Delights....

My tummy hurt last night. After two days of baking and eating and cooking and eating and presents and eating and laughing and visiting and eating and eating and eating, I felt like my stomach was full of lead weights. I woke up this morning still full.

It was a wonderful Christmas. Santa came and spoiled my children. The expressions on their faces were priceless as they madly tore the paper off their gifts. I cooked a turkey dinner with all the trimmings for Hubs' family on Christmas Eve, and was in charge of dessert at my sister's house on Christmas day, so it felt like a bakeshop in here on the morning of the 24th.

Double Espresso Chocolate Torte

Apple Pie and Pecan Pie

Everything turned out wonderfully - I used orange juice as the liquid in the pastry, but I also used butter instead of shortening, and it was hell to work with. I'm giving you the recipe for the chocolate torte, because it was impressive and delicious, but also ridiculously easy and low effort.

On the Twenty's Signature Double Espresso Chocolate Torte

500g bittersweet chocolate, chopped (they recommend Callebaut, and that would probably make it even better, but I just used the extra-dark bars from President's Choice and it was still fabulous)

1 1/3 c. whipping cream

3/4 c. unsalted butter

6 eggs

1 c. sugar

3 tbsp. coffee liqueur

Preheat oven to 225 F. Butter a 10" springform pan, and line with parchment. Put chocolate in a large bowl. Heat butter and cream together in a saucepan just to a simmer, and pour over chocolate. Let sit 1 minute, and then whisk until smooth.

Whisk together eggs, sugar and liqueur and pour into chocolate mixture. Blend thoroughly. Pour into springform pan and bake for 2 - 2 1/2 hours until edges are set and center is still slightly soft. Cool at room temperature, then refrigerate overnight in pan before unmolding and cutting.

Eat. Moan with delight.

Christmas Dog

Is Santa still here?

No - but he brought exactly what she wanted.

OH - I cherish each and every one of your comments, but I would just like to register my astonishment that my last post, a post about the interior of my fridge, garnered more comments than anything else I have written here. I love you, but y'all are wierdos. Thank-you! I'm so relieved that it's not just me.

Better than a Lump of Coal

Everyone is making their lists for Santa now, but there is a very good chance that there will be nothing under the tree with my name on it. Hubs hates to shop. I'm almost convinced that he married me for my shopping prowess. I buy and wrap for the kids, his family, my family, our friend's kids, the Princess's teachers, the next door neighbours.....am I forgetting anyone?

Hubs just has to buy for me, and, at his request, I make him a list complete with the store addresses and websites. He leaves it to the last minute and I either get handed the gift still in the store's carrier bag, or get nothing at all.

However, on the rare occasions that Hubs decides to put his heart into giving.....wow. The first year that we were together Hubs went to Tremblant skiing with his friends on Valentine's Day. He offered to cancel his trip when he realized what he'd done, but I told him not to be stupid. I could handle Valentine's Day alone. The day he got back he called me and asked me to come to his house for dinner....and to bring a swimsuit. (I was like, wtf?) When I got there he'd taken a big roll of paper and covered the walls, and drawn palm trees all over them. He'd made a beach (with sand!!) on the floor, and a fire so that it was toasty warm. He was playing island music and he had the yummiest picnic for me....with champagne! How fast can you say "forgiven"?

The next year I was stressed out at college, with projects piled on every surface in my apartment, and a full-time job besides. Hubs waited until I finished school for Christmas break, and then he arranged with my employer for me to get the time off so he could surprise me with a trip to the Bahamas! His plan was to pack my bags for me and just drive us to the airport, but (thankfully!) he lost his nerve when confronted with my wardrobe and he gave me 24 hours notice to pack. In my panic to get ready and look stunning, I purchased a gorgeous pair of Armani sunglasses for almost $400. I really couldn't afford them...but they're still in my glovebox and I smile everytime I see them.

When I found out that I was expecting the Princess I was driving a little two-seater Honda CRX. Hubs had a Civic that he hated because it was too boring. Hubs is a car guy. I was more than happy to take the Civic and let him buy a new car, all I wanted was a back seat, a cup holder, and power steering! Hubs started shopping. Car shopping, he likes. He must have test driven 25 cars. One day he called me at work and told me to stop at the Mazda dealership on the way home....he's bought me the brand new car I liked. He drove the car he hated for three more years.

I spent the last month of my pregnancy with the Princess dropping hints about jewellery. I really wanted something from Tiffany's. There was no way Hubs was going to go to Tiffany's, I mean, it's downtown for one! He did buy me a very pretty silver locket. I guess I could moan and complain about the gifts I won't get this year, but I choose to be grateful instead. For the very precious gifts I've already been given.

O Christmas Tree!

My sister and her family came up on Saturday, and we all went out to Drysdale's to get our Christmas trees. They bought themselves a lovely big SUV to celebrate the birth of their baby in the spring, and I must say that Hubs and I have found it very useful for buying furniture. Even better, our tree fit in it, so we didn't have to move any child seats and now they can spend the next four months vaccuuming needles instead of us! (Hi, and thanks again guys, you lurkers!)

Hubs protests more every year. He feels that the number of ornaments we have is getting out of hand. I used to do a more restrained, 'designer' tree - but as a child I loved the colour and tackiness of it all, and since the Princess was born I've let the decorating take on a more and more 'Who-ville' type vibe.

There's the tree topper I coveted through

October, November and December one year,

and finally purchased for 75% off in February.

Disco balls, and colourful flocked baubles from Ikea.

There are also many special ornaments Hubs and I bought on our travels before we had children. Even more precious because we haven't travelled much since the kids were born!

Including a blown glass coke bottle from Las Vegas,

a reggae angel from Bahamas,

this gnome from Montreal,

and a fisherman from our honeymoon in PEI.

We always give the princess an ornament on the day we get the tree, and have started to do the same for Bad. This year, she knew what to anticipate, and was so excited to pull all her ornaments from the box, and delighted to open her new one.

This is the special ornament from the Princess's first Christmas.

There's Humpty-Dumpty, that I bought at Harrod's

and gave her when she was two.

and this year, another frog prince.

This is what we gave the Boy last year, when he was 4 days old,

and this year.


Waiting for the tree to defrost was terrible, so we baked some cookie ornaments
to make the house smell spicy and sweet.

There are decorations the Princess has made, and I'm looking forward to adding some by Bad.

there are ornaments from my childhood,

and from Hub's....

We couldn't forget the candy-cane!

And what do you get when you pile it all up on the most beautiful tree in the forest?

The story of a life and a love and a family.
Memories for my children to make and to keep.

The Gospel According to Dora....

Ok, maybe I'm opening a can of worms here, but here's an old story, the back story, and a question. Old story first:

On Good Friday, I had to explain to the Princess (then 3 1/2) why there wasn't any school. "Well today is the anniversary of the day Jesus died.....do you remember who Jesus was?"
"No Mommy." Shit. Mother of the Year slips my grasp again.
"Well, I'll have to get some stories about him to read to you."
"OH! MOMMY! I'll get my Dora book! It has sooo many stories! Maybe there's one about Dora and Jesus in there!"

Don't worry, I already feel the shame. How could this have happened? The backstory:

Hubs and I were both brought up nominally Christian. Hubs went to the Anglican church as a kid, and then went to a Christian boarding school. Which turned him off religion forever. The story of the school's closing was recently picked up in the Globe and Mail - search 'Grenville'....they'll explain better than I can. (to clarify - Hubs was miserable there, and feels religion was used as a weapon, but he didn't suffer or witness the abuse mentioned) I have less excuse. Hubs is happy for me to take the kids to church....he wants me to, he just won't come. I suspect that he wants me to take them so that he can be alone with the television for an hour. I haven't taken them, even though the church is literally across the street and down two houses, because I am tired and don't want to add to the time I spend alone with my children. I like hanging out with Hubs on Sunday. I like leaving the kids in his care and lounging on the sofa with coffee and a book.

And that brings us to the question:

After the Easter incident, I bought a few books to read to the Princess, a story about Noah, and a children's bible, but she really wasn't interested. The question got pushed to the back of my mind. Christmas is bringing it back to the forefront. How do I educate her about religion? To be clear, my worries are educational and for her soul. She has beautiful manners and morals, you have only to look in her eyes to see that her soul is pure. If there is a heaven, she will go there. My own beliefs are tentative, un-formed - I don't want my children to follow in my footsteps, but to make up their own minds. However, I want them to have a background, a basic knowledge, of the bible and its stories....so much of literature assumes this of its reader that it is vitally important. If I can impart the right background, they will have what they need to decipher the metaphors around them and make their own decision about God. But....how do I do that? Do I need to take them to church? Every Christmas Eve I let the kids open a present - and it is always new pyjamas and a storybook. This year one of the books is the Christmas story. It's a start. What else can I do? What do you do?

Saving the Badass from a Fat Ass

So I was reading Shay's posts about running, and how proud she is of keeping at it (and you should be girl! You go! You inspire me!) and it made me realize how much I miss the days when I ran. When I could say I was a runner. I never ran races, not my thing, but 4 or 5 days a week I would lace up my shoes and run for at least an hour. I ran by myself, I ran with friends, I ran with our dog. I could sprint up the 100+ stairs from Davenport road to Casa Loma and not have to stop and rest. These days the stairs in my house sometimes leave me winded. (Well, I'm sometimes carrying the combined 60+ pounds of my kids up them!)

I haven't ran since I was a few weeks pregnant with Badness. I haven't run regularly since I was a few weeks pregnant with the Princess. It's funny how you get into and out of the groove. My favourite time to run is first thing in the morning. That's when I had the energy, the time, the motivation. By the end of the day, my motivation is for the sofa. During my pregnancy with the Princess I was violently ill every single morning (and afternoon, and evening) for 27 weeks. When it passed I walked, but I was too big and out of shape to run.

I miss it. I read Shay's post on Sunday and decided it was time to do it. (Flu be damned.) I ran upstairs to dig out some sweats and was immediately foiled - none of my long neglected sports bras were up to the task of supporting my still-nursing breasts. But I laced up my shoes anyway. I took the dog, took a begging Princess (in the stroller so she couldn't slow me down - this was for ME), and I walked. I walked with long, fast strides. I walked until my heart was beating loud and fast, walked until my muscles burned and my lungs were filling deep with cold, clean air. I walked until my mind cleared and my spirits lifted.

I'm going to walk again today after dropping the Princess at school and Badness at a sitter. And then I will go buy new gear. Tomorrow I will run. It has been a long time, and it won't be pretty. I will probably have to start with walking a minute, running a minute like at my first running clinic - but I will run.

This badass will be a fat ass no more. Thanks Shay.

7 More Things

I thought of some! Amazing how the mind-numbing tasks of day to day life help a girl think....

So - when I am made Supreme Ruler of the Universe you can expect the following:

1. To expound on the carpet theme, carpeting in bathrooms will be banned outright. Because, ewww! Extra task-forces will be sent to England immediately....come ON people, you built an EMPIRE, what are you thinking?!

2. All people working in retail or customer service will be required to actually HELP their customers. Without sighing. Anyone caught glaring at a customer for daring to want to make a purchase, therefore interrupting an oh-so-important phone call about what you did on Saturday night, will immediately be fired and made to work shovelling poop at a farm or zoo.

3. The home phone numbers of all telemarketers will be made public. So we can phone THEM during dinner.

4. Babies will sleep through the night. 'nuff said.

5. Chocolate will be declared a food group.

6. That lady at my daughter's dance class, the one who is always telling me how exhausted I look, and how I look so much better and full of life on the days I manage to wear make-up, will have her vile tongue removed and be given a job scrubbing out public bathrooms everywhere.

7. All Mommies will be granted a hot cup of coffee and a shower before entering into each day of servitude to their children - the REAL Supreme Rulers of the Universe.

Supreme Ruler of the Universe

First, to everyone who commented yesterday - thanks. You make a girl feel so good, if the world finds out about y'all, it's gonna put the Prozac guys out of business!

Now, the lovely and talented Jen at No Place Like It has tagged me for the 7 things meme. Not sure I'm all that interesting, but here goes:

1. I had my nose pierced back when that still had the power to shock. The night I met Hubs for the first time he told me I looked "like a freak". He still asked around to get my number... Once suburban kids everywhere started piercing all of their various facial protuberances I stopped wearing mine. The hole has long since filled in.

2. I have to eat burgers and sandwiches around in a circle, so that the yummiest centre bit is saved for last. I will lay the smack down on anyone who tries to steal a bite of my middles....I mean it, Hubs, I'm not taking any more of that crap from you!

3. Except for my kids. I will give them my middles and eat their crusts.

4. I am crazy scared of mice. Even the princess thinks it's ridiculous. We had a mouse last winter and while we were trying to catch it Hubs had to go away for a week....he asked me what I would do if I saw it or caught it while he was gone and to his horror I told him that I'd pack the kids in the car and take them to the Marriott for a week. I would've too.

5. I can roll my eyes back in my head so that you can only see the whites, and then make them quiver. Boys of all ages love this trick. I can also bend the top joint by itself in all of my fingers. Try it, not everyone can do this.

6. I abhor carpets in any colour other than neutral shades from cream to taupe. My first act upon being made Supreme Ruler of the Universe would be to outlaw the manufacture of all coloured carpeting, and appoint task forces to knock on doors and rip out all existing coloured carpet. I would commission huge incinerators to be built to burn it all. Pink would be burnt first. I would do this before addressing hunger or world peace. (You can go wild with area rugs people, my vendetta is just against the wall-to-wall.)

7. I always break the chain when sent chain letters and e-mails etc. So why should a meme be any different? I think I'm supposed to tag 7 people, so I will, but I don't want to know seven things about you. Let's call this the mini-meme - I just want to know what YOU'D do first upon becoming Supreme Ruler of the Universe. So:

Phoenix
Karen
Heidi
Veronica
Margaret
Chantelle
Type(little)a

and anyone else reading this, if you want to play, you're it. And rules shmules. Tag someone else if you like!