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.

Fancy Dinner at the House of Bad

This morning at breakfast the Princess announced that tonight we were having a fancy dinner. Daddy was going to need to wear a tie. She had to go to school, so I was left in charge of the menu and general preparations. As soon as we came in the door at 4:00, she marched up to her room to begin her transformation:

I was happy to play along, but drew the line at wearing my wedding dress, as originally instructed, so after a sort through some old dresses at the back of my closet we compromised on this: The Princess was sad that Bad wouldn't be able to come, since he hasn't got a suit or tie, but was persuaded that a button down shirt and cords would be fancy enough for a baby. Unfortunately, Daddy didn't make it home....but did he ever miss out! Because the menu? For a fancy dinner, chez Bad?

Homemade multigrain waffles (from scratch, and heart-shaped - thanks to our $5 garage sale waffle iron) with fresh sliced strawberries, chocolate chip ice cream, real whipped cream, maple syrup and chocolate sauce. And yes, a chocolate rabbit was harmed in the making of this meal.

*disclaimer* - My children aren't always allowed to eat like this for dinner. Most of their meals are centered on pasta and/or cheese.

Blogger, 32, dies of heart attack

Oh alright. I didn't die. It was a close thing though. We live in a 100+ year old house, and for the first 3 years everything was fine. But this winter we've had a problem with mice. Just one or two at a time, and Hubs catches them, and everything is fine for a month or two, and then it happens again. The problem is that I am deathly, ridiculously, afraid of mice.

This morning was the limit. I went to shake the crumbs out of the toaster before making breakfast....and a mouse jumped out of the top! It ran under the microwave, and I, (in one of my prouder moments) left my children where they were in the living room and ran straight up the stairs. I jumped on top of the Princess's bed....where I crouched, alternating between shrieks and whimpers, until Hubs the Hero went down and killed the invader.

Needless to say, I will be asking for a toaster for my birthday this year. If anyone knows how I can get the 10 lost years of my life back, I'd be happy to hear from you.

xoxo Badness

Piece of Cake

I was really regretting my hasty offer to help the Princess bake a rabbit cake, instead of just buying one at the store. But the look on Bad's face as he climbed up on the chair and helped himself to the batter-covered beater changed my mind.


Happy Easter everybody - I hope the rabbit finds you!

I think I'm supposed to be honoured....

Last night at bedtime, lying in the dark beside the Princess:

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know who's going to be my flower-girl at my wedding?"

"I have no idea."

"YOU! And you can wear your wedding dress from when you married Daddy!"

She gave me a huge glowing smile that said I was being bestowed a great gift. She'd better change her mind though, or I'm going to look beyond ridiculous...

The diamond that's this girl's best friend

I've lost another pound in the last 2 weeks, and while I'm very excited to tell you that I've dropped almost 2 pant sizes, something even better has happened.

I had to take off my engagement and wedding rings when I was 7 months pregnant with the Princess, and haven't been able to fit them on since. (That's pushing 5 years for those that need help with the math!) Countless people have told me to just get my rings re-sized, and Hubs was threatening to pawn them if I didn't, but that would have felt like accepting the weight as permanent and mine. I wouldn't have been able to blame it on the babies anymore.

But! Pa-dah!

Hmm...looks like I oughta get those babies cleaned and polished....and what's with those red and chapped dishpan hands? Winter, begone!

kids are so literal....

"Bad! Get off the table! Tables are not for babies to stand on, they're for food! If you stand up there someone might come along with a big fork, think you're breakfast, and take a bite out of you!"

I plunked him on the floor, put on a pot of coffee and went to get dressed. I'd barely pulled up my jeans when I heard a shriek. I leaped down the stairs, still half-dressed, and ran back to the kitchen. There was Bad, standing on the kitchen table again, holding his stomach and shrieking. The Princess just grinned, evil glint in her eye, holding a fork.

Me and my big mouth.