My Kids Are Making Slime

Without my help.

Possible parenting fail. Well, probable. Green Chlorophyll everywhere.

They cleaned it up. With a white towel.

They are learning how not to follow slime recipes, and I'm learning how to not be a control freak.

Good times.

Drumheller Day 6

The kids look like zombies, ha ha ha.

But I'm not laughing. We had a lazy start to the day, and headed off to the coal mine again. K2 didn't make it. Meltdown city squared! Hubby took him to the truck to cram some food in him while K1 and I continued on.

We then went to the Royal Tyrell Museum. Do not take your kids when they're tired, hungry, and whiny. I enjoyed the museum. I did not enjoy the tantrums.

Afterwards the grandparents took us for dinner to Bernie and the Boys restaurant, a haven for burgers and hot dogs etc.  It was a busy place for sure.
If you love greasy, salty, heart-attack-waiting-to-happen burgers, you'll love it. I feel like I've gained 10 lbs in water retention myself. I'm also hoping that the kitchen is cleaner than the bathroom. . .

As tired as the kids were, they still played hard at the playground until bedtime, and they still crashed hard regardless of the three marshmallows that they each had.

K2: Can I have some mushrooms?
Me: We don't have any mushrooms.
K2: Oh. Um, those white things that we had the other this morning?
Me: Marshmallows?
K2: Yeah!MARSHMALLOWS!

Drumheller Day 5

Had a wonderfully lazy morning. Played cribbage on the giant board by the playground while the kids played.

Went to do the interpretive trail by the Royal Tyrell. Ended up climbing across the valley, up some ridges and to the top of a mound. K1 learned all about the prickly cacti. Jeans recommended!

I learned that some leafy looking plants actually have a million little invisible-until-they-stick-in-your-fingers spines. I got all but one out and guess who doesn't have tweezers? Oh! Will check first aid kit shortly.

Continued on hiking up a narrow crevice. Beautiful views of the valley. And of the trail that we're not on, tee hee.

Eventually got back to the museum and drove to the coal mine trail.  Instead of taking the actual trail we followed the less-beaten path up on to the fields above. Tip: Learned that it's easier to come down when K2 holds the back of my belt vs holding his hand.

Walked back down and literally walked the kids in to the ground on the way to the coal mine (turns out we could have driven to it), which is another half hour hike. Tomorrow. As it was even K1 put himself to bed, which is a miracle unto itself.

Made pasta, and the sauce was the best I ever had. Fried ground turkey, onions, garlic, and some kind of Newman's Own pasta sauce. So good! Possibly helped that I was very very hungry. . .

Debated the feasibility of campground sex again.

Drumheller Day 4

Decided to hike the hoodoos today. Instead of getting up early to beat the heat, we slept in a bit. By the time we ate breakfast, which was pretty much a wine fest, and left, it was hot.

Hubby decides to stop at Mark's Work Wearhouse to get boots. A delay, but turns out to be good call. Go in to the Co-op mall to pee and get water. Drive 2 minutes and realize that I forgot my phone in the bathroom. Go back. It's exactly where I left it.

Finally get to the hoodoos and the people coming off the hill look like they're going to spontaneously combust. It's HOT.

K1, who's 6, and hubby climb all the way to the top. K2 (3yo) and I go up as far as my knowledge of being able to get back down will allow, which is still pretty far. Down is definitely scarier than up because  of the fear of sliding on loose rocks and not stopping.

Make it down safely and rest with well deserved ice cream bars.

Stop on the way back and cross an old suspension bridge across the Red Deer River.

Kids are now super tired and whiny, buy all attempts to get them to rest are futile and they're trying to kill each other.

Have a classic camping lunch of wieners and beans.
This may backfire on me. Literally. All night long.

Go to the pool, only to find out that a. the pool is closed to swimming for another 2 hours because of lessons, and b. K2 is not tall enough to go down the water slide by himself--and they won't let him down with a parent--and that was the whole reason for going.

So go to the water park and splash park. Come back for a snack. Have supper with Grandma and Grandpa. Kids want to go to the playground but we convince them to watch a movie instead. (What would we do on a real camping trip to the middle of nowhere?)

K2 falls asleep. Hoping K1 will easily because the movie is over and I'm tired.

This day has been an exercise in flexibility  (mine, mentally) and calmness when dealing with the champions of whine.

Drumheller Days 1-3 Continued

Day 2:

Leave Banff at a reasonable hour. Stop five times for bathroom breaks, including a complete bypassing of an actual rest area and instead pulling off on a freeway ramp.

The iPads are dead, so set the boys up for colouring. Listen to them scream at each other because they each have a fistful of pencils but K1 has the gold pencil crayon and therefore is BEING A MEANIE FOR NOT SHARING! Give back some partially charged iPads. Stop crying inside (me).

Get in to Drumheller for an early dinner. Set up camp. Grandpa takes the kids to the playground. Mom has a shower!

Go to bed. Fall asleep 2 hours later. For an hour.

Day 3:

Climb the BIGGEST dinosaur in the world! Go to the water park and the splash park. Climb the dinosaur again, but this time Daddy challenges you to do the stairs two at a time. You do it, and your quads do not thank you for it later. Ungrateful little bitches.

Roast potatoes and veggies and salmon in the coals. Best meal ever! (Except hubby wanted some sweet Tai chili sauce and didn't realize that I'd packed some. Oops.)

Kids learn the hard way that metal weiner roasting sticks get hot on the fire end. K1 has a nice cross-hatch pattern burned in to his finger, but that doesn't stop him from playing tag in the playground for an hour before bed.

Catch some marshmallows on fire. Shower while the kids fall asleep.
Debate the feasibility of campground sex.

Drumheller Days 1-3

Day One: driving from Home to Banff, specifically Johnston Canyon Campground, which according to Google Maps is a 7ish hour drive.

Google does not have kids, nor do they have to drive around town for an hour looking for those last minute camping items. They don't have to stop to pee every hour. New travel rule: if Mommy has to pee, everyone pees no matter what.

Saw some beautiful sights along Hwy 93--Ice Fields Parkway. Drove past the glass lookout that juts out over a valley, and it's so high that I was freaking out in the truck. I've jumped out of a perfectly good airplane, but that part of the highway was just freaky.

The rivers are the prettiest colour green.

Rolled in to the Campground about 8pm. Or so. 9 hours later, anyway. Just enough time to roast some hot dogs and to try to convince the kids that yes, Mommy really does mean it when she says that she gets cranky when she can't sleep. And to take K1 to go pee. Then an hour later to take K2 to go pee.

Note to self: get out the driveway on time so that we have time to run the kids in to the ground at some point along the way.

You're Making Me Feel Stupid

This is what my 6yo told me today.

I asked him how, and he said that I was telling him what to do.

In other words, I was micro-managing him while he folded towels.

I learned how to do that from my own mother. I listened to how I talked to my kids a little more closely after that.

I'm thinking maybe I could be a little bit nicer when I'm angry.

I'm not saying that they didn't deserve every punishment that they got for breaking up a large piece of Styrofoam ALL OVER THE FREAKING HOUSE, but I probably didn't have to yell so much.

Random Thoughts 2015-06-10

You can buy a kid a really cool remote-controlled car, or even a BMX bike, but he's still going to: see if he can cram his 5 year-old self into the box the car came in.

The Kazoo Catastrophe

Wow, I kinda dropped off the face of the Earth there for a bit, didn't I? Well I think I'm back. I want to be back. I'd love to be back every day, but that might make things a little crazy. Well, that might make me a little crazy. As it is, I finished the dishes and I thought, Self, you can reconcile your bank account like a good little girl, or you can write a blog post. I'm over a month behind in my bank rec. That's not going to be any different tomorrow, now is it? Kind of like sticky floors. They can wait.

Ah, the patience of chores waiting to be done.

On to the Kazoo Catastrophe.

I picked the kids up from daycare on Friday, and I thought that since it was K2's Birthday Party this weekend, K1 might like to stop at the toy store and pick something out for his brother (and yay, K2 gets to wander around!). 

I laid down the law of a quick visit to a toy store, and K1 (who's 4) agreed with them. K2 of course agreed, but he's just 2, so you always take that with a bit of skepticism. 

Now, this isn't just any toy store. It's not the big-box giant that sells what everyone else sells. It's not the mega-aisles at Wal-Mart. It's a tiny storefront that's jam-packed with real toys like Thomas the Train sets (the wooden ones) and Play Mobil and Melissa & Doug and creative toys (and I'm sorry, I don't have girls so I didn't look in that spot too clearly--probably special dolls and oh! Horses. They had lots of horses) and perhaps best of all, real sets of Lego. Not the sets that must be built a certain way and can only be made in to one thing, but actual boxes of random pieces! Like when I was a kid. Which feels like fifty years ago, but I swear it's not.

So, of course my kids gravitate towards the Thomas table that's set up in the back, and they're playing and not really looking at other toys, and so I drag K1 off to find a bath toy for K2, which he does and it's so cool that I want to have a bath just so that I can play with it (seriously, it's that cool). 

So then I try to round up the kids towards the front. I tell K1 that he has five minutes to pick something out to spend his allowance on, and of course he's too busy playing with the cool baby toys, so I decide that I'll pick, and I spy some Kazoos. Inexpensive, and they sound like fun.

I pay for the gift and the Kazoos, I (literally) drag the kids out to the car after prying toys that we haven't paid for out of their hands, ask K1 politely to get in to the car please, pick up K2 and realize that he's shit his diaper, ask K1 a little more firmly to please get in the car and for the love of all that makes Mommy happy please stop crying I said we had to go. I get K2 in to the back of the car, give K1 a lot of heck for not getting in to the car in a parking lot, hello, get him in the car, change K2's diaper without any wet cloths, yay, in the dark, double yay. Get him in his car seat, get K1 buckled in, and finally oh my goodness, Mommy where is our KAZOO?!

I pull out the kazoos, show the kids how they work (you have to hum to get noise, not just blow air through them), and get in the car. 

Hell. I'm in fucking Hell. But it's kind of a funny Hell, if you have a sense of humour.

I start driving. 

K1: I didn't WANT a Kazoo!

K2: Phhh. Phhhh. Mommy! Phhhh.

Me: Well, next time I say pick a toy, please pick a toy.

K1: But I don't want a Kazoo.. Whaaaawahaaawaaaa. Taaaake it baaaack.

K2: WhaaaaAAAAAaaaaazzzzz. KZzzzzzz. Phhh. Mommy!

Me: We can't take it back. You had your mouth on it.

K1: We can [hic] wash [hic] it!

Me: No. If you really don't want it, give it to me and you can get something else next time.

K2: Phhhh Zzzzzzz Phhhhh.

K1: NOOO! 

Me: Put it in my hand please.

K1: Noozzzzzz (crying in to the Kazoo).

Me: Hey, that sounds pretty good. 

The next twenty minutes are spent listening to K1 cry with and without the kazoo (with is much nicer on the ears) because he hates the kazoo but he doesn't want to give it back and he keeps trying to make music with it, and listening to K2 cry because he can't quite make it work, and every time K1 cries, K2 has to, and I'm pretty sure that by the time we hit the driveway they were both crying on purpose through the kazoo. Wackos. 

Moral of the story: Don't take your kids to a toy store for fifteen minutes on a Friday night when they're tired and hungry and you don't have the proper means to clean up poop, remove the poopy diaper from your car as soon as you get home or you'll hate your forgetfulness come the next morning, and if they tend to be whiny and cry-y on a drive home, get them a kazoo. Crying sounds much better.

Random Thoughts 2014-10-31

Happy Halloween!

I got tired of struggling to get K1 out the door in the mornings, so I decided to give him some responsibilities for the mornings. I was thinking that getting up without whining, getting dressed, going potty, and making sure that he had his favourite blankie would be great responsibilities for a 4yr old. I asked him what he thought his responsibilities should be. His response was, "I think that my responsibilities should be sleeping in the mornings."

Oh sure, I know that really, he only thinks that for weekdays. These guys don't believe in sleeping in on weekends. Ever.

I made an egg-nog cheesecake last night for no reason. I froze most of it. Don't be jealous.

I want to do the NaNoWriMo thing. 50k words in a month, and it's just a rough draft. So, basically, verbal diarrhea that gets cleaned up later.

If I do it on weekends, that's only 5000 words per day. What is that, like 10 pages? I can do that. I just have to let something else go:
1. Housework. My mom would freak out, but she judges as it is so I have to ask if I really care.
2. Kids. Nope. Try number one, above.
3. Cooking. Uh, no. Gotta eat or I get cranky. Gotta feed the kids or they get fucking whiny. Can't afford to eat out all the time unless I give something up like housing, so no.
4. Work. Kinda like living in a house and being able to heat it in the winter, thanks.
5. Exercise. I'm way too fat and out of shape to give that up. I should probably start, though.
6. Sleep. See number 3 above.
7.  Hubby time. He's really good in bed, so no.

I guess someone else can clean my house. And maybe cook. But I'd still have to do most of the writing at night, which would interfere with numbers 6 and 7. I might be able to combine 5 and 7 to save time...

I'm also really tempted to do it using my favourite muse.

That would be super fun. Coming soon: a book about white-ass vampires who have struggling writing careers in New York, but really they're also aliens who come from a planet that not only has one culture on their entire planet, but they also have the exact same political issues that we do! Sounds so totally awesome, I know.

I'm looking forward to the kids' gymnastics tomorrow. Especially K2's parent and tot. I love it when he freaks out and smashes his face to the floor and cries and screams because he's overwhelmed or frustrated or just plain isn't allowed to do exactly what he wants right now. Yup. I'm that parent with that kid. Fuck me I'm not looking forward to that. I have enough PMS on my own right now, thank you very much.

Breville is going to kick Kitchenaid's ass.

Well, my random thoughts are starting to go to sleep. Ciao.

Feeling Bad About Your Body?

I needed to read this today.

I'm blaming my hormones 99% on this one, but I've been feeling really fat and ugly these past few days. Been believing my own bullshit, as it were.

It's been tough of late because of a broken bone in the bottom of my foot that's been taking forever to heal, but I think that it's finally on the mend, but it's been two and a half years!

So what does 2-1/2 years of minimal exercise get you?

Well, if you take your almost-2yo to Parent and Tot Gymnastics and spend 45 minutes trying to keep your kid with his group, it makes you feel like you ran a marathon (and it makes you cry. In front of all the other parents), that's what.

The good thing that came out of yesterday?

I've realized that I need to relax just a little more in gymnastics. You know, let your kid do what he wants to so that it's fun, but at the same time keep him from interfering with the other classes going on around you, and you have to do that without touching or blocking the kid because that makes him cry and then you cry and you feel like a fucking failure as a parent, but hey, you are aware that you need to just calm the fuck down, Mommy!

The better thing that came out of yesterday?

My foot's not that sore!!

The rest of my body feels like it wants to die, but whatever. I can start (carefully) exercising again. Which is good, because the kids can run faster now, and some of the stores are pretty big around here.

The best thing that came out of yesterday?

Bedtime.

Because that's when my Confident Believer put the Scared Little Bitch to sleep.

Positive Thinking Day

Saturday was Positive Thinking Day.

Seeing that got me thinking about all of the Gratitude Challenge postings that are popping up all over Facebook. Since when is it a Challenge to be grateful? It's called having good manners, people, and it's as simple as saying "please" and "thank-you".

You know how you teach manners to your kids? You model the behaviour, that's how. You can tell them and explain to them what good manners are until you're blue in the face, but they're kids, so they're not listening to you. But they are watching you. Every move you make. Even when you're sleeping.

So, if you're modeling good manners, you're being grateful everyday, and that's pretty darn simple.

As far as positive thinking goes, if you're telling me that my kid is a glass-is-half-empty kind of guy and that we need to change that outlook in him, you might want to take a look at your own Glass Theory outlook on life!

Modeling. It's all about the modeling.

Random Thoughts 2014-08-11

Took the kids to an airshow on the weekend. It was an hour drive. It took two. Kids had to poop (but couldn't in the bushes on the side of the road), peed their diaper (changed while K1 was unsuccessfully attempting to poop in the bushes on the side of the road), or had blood pouring out of their mouths (Turkey Jerky. I hope. Couldn't find anything).

Showed up late enough that the entrance was free. Yay!

Kids more interested in running around and looking at the planes that were on the ground rather than the planes that were doing cool tricks in the sky. Oooooh! Then they found the digger and the tracked mini-bulldozer and the loader! That was the bestest ever part of the AIRSHOW.

Got home and later K1 went outside. Checked on him. Watched him pee off the deck, probably into his potatoes. Later found him hobbling out of the "bushes" in the backyard, poopy pants down around his ankles. 'Twas a successful poop in the bushes this time.

Cleaned the house. Filed all my filing. You should see my desk! A. You can see my desk! B. You should see my desk now because by this time tomorrow, you won't be able to. Mopped the floors, and really thoroughly, too. My body hates me now.

Grandma took K1 to the Exhibition. It was all good until his balloon popped. End of the world, that.

Reading some Alien-Human erotica. The sample left me feeling weird, but curious. I bought it. I'm actually skipping some of the sex to read the story. Does she get to keep the baby? Or are his people going to come and take it "home"?

Going through Gail Vaz Oxlade's (I probably spelled that wrong, but I'm too tired to open another tab and google her, event though that would probably be faster than typing this lazy-assed excuse) My Money My Choice levels. It's a free program. But you need to read a lot of excerpts from her books. Not so free.

Unless you get them from the LIBRARY!! Ha Ha! Take that, Gail!

Actually, she'd probably be proud of me.

Except they're due back in a couple of days, and I still need a couple of them. Renew renew renew. Because if I pay late fees, Gail will be disappointed.

Random thoughts 2014-08-02. As in August 2nd.

You know how most people have a hard time getting their kids to eat their vegetables? Well, I have a hard time getting K1 to eat in general except for when it comes to raw vegetables. All raw veggies should watch out! Especially the ones at fruit trucks. I had to weigh a couple of sweet banana peppers before they disappeared completely. Then, a trip to the grocery store opened my eyes to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I need to teach my kids a little better about how if you touch it, IE with your mouth, we pretty much have to buy it. I now have Indian Kalera [sp].

On the other hand, I don't want to harsh on their enthusiastic curiosity, especially when it comes to very. I'll let you know how the bitter melon turns out..

Ugh. I have a kid who gets up at 6:30. On a Saturday.

You know what else we learned at the grocery store? Kids' cereals are at eye level. Their eye level. You probably learn that in marketing 101. Or when you have kids.

The teachers in BC are on strike. The BC government says, hey, if they're still on strike in the fall, we're going to take a bunch of that money that we saved not paying any teachers in the spring, and we're going to give $40/day /5-13 yo child to parents to help offset daycare costs.

WTF? I took the yearly teacher's salary for my district, divided it by 10 months, then by 4 weeks/month, then by 5 days per week. Roughly, teachers get $190-350 per day. I think on average they have 25-35 kids per class. Let's pick 25. 25 kids x 40$ = 1000.00. Wait. Wait a second.  How long before those "savings" are used up? Every four days that the teachers were on strike pays for one day of childcare. Ish.  Oh right. The savings from high school students helps out with that.

Maybe the fuzzy math will all work out in the end.

I'd rather see the strike resolved, but like Christy Clark says, both sides have to be adults.

We're screwed.

Kudos to All the Single Moms out There

I don't know how you do it. I hope to everyone holy that you have a great support system.

I have the best husband in the world, and generally my kids are pretty good, but I'm still having a bad day. No, the kids haven't been bad. They've been kids. I'm just having one of those days where I'm exhausted for a variety of reasons, and I'm a bit too tired to maintain that perfect emotional fitness that we all strive so hard for (you know the one--it makes it "easy" for you to smile and speak lovingly and with perfect skills to your children even though it would be so much easier to yell at them. (I think that this effect was achieved in the 50's via Valium. I don't have any Valium)).

I'm going to admit it: I yelled. Not a lot. Not horribly or abusively. Maybe a little meanly.

I feel like a horrible parent.

All I want to do is cry. And be alone. And cry. Maybe not completely alone. Chocolate would be welcome, but I don't think that it would help much.

My husband knows this, and has been helpful tonight. It's still been hard and exhausting and tiring and frustrating and I feel nothing but shameful and useless even though I know that that's a lie.

How do single parents do it?

I think of friends of mine, and other people I know, and of people I don't know who are raising kids on their own, and I wonder, if I had to be a single parent, would I be able to rise above the frustration and the exhaustion and have kids who still love me at the end of the day?

I hope so.

Anyway,

I think that all the single moms (and dads) out there need some really big hugs.

And a friend or two who would be willing to watch your kid(s) for a few hours every once in a while so that you can sleep. Or cry. Or both.

101 Things to Do for your Children: #15: Let Them Grow Stuff

Number 15 of the 101 Things to do with kids is

If possible allow your child a plot of land or at least a flower pot in which to experience growing things.

K2 bought a seed potato a while back. I cut it into four pieces and he planted them. A few days later he dug a couple up to see if they were growing.

Now they're doing quite well. Three of them are, anyway. I'm not too sure what happened to potato piece number four. It's quite possibly rotting in the raspberry bushes somewhere.

I bought a couple strawberry plants, and as soon as the berries are ripe enough (any bit of red at all), they're picked. I think that they're even eaten. And I can't wait for the raspberries to be ready. I'm also hoping that the raspberries aren't too angry about the severe pruning job that they got this spring (which K2 got to help with as well--awesome!).

I think that this is a great Thing. It makes so much sense on so many levels. Your kids get to learn about where food comes from. They get to dig in the dirt. They get to learn how plants grow. They get to dig in the dirt and you can't get mad at them for it! They get to learn the responsibility of taking care of things so that they grow and flourish. And watering is fun, fun, fun!

I mean, after they get to dig in the dirt for a reason, and get really dirty which is the bestest fun ever, they get to water everything. Not just the plant, but the lawn around it. And the deck. And the sandbox. And maybe they can fill the kiddie pool a bit more while they're at it. And maybe now we can put the sprinkler on, Mom.

And while the sprinkler's on, you just go on thinking that we're occupied. Hey, is it okay that we moved these flowers over here? I know we already did it, so it must be okay, right? I think the sandbox needs more water, so I'll just move the sprinkler over there. Heck. Let's just put it right in the pool while we're at it. That'll help balance out the sand-to-water ratio that's in the pool.

Once everything's watered and tended-to, it's just a matter of letting the sun do it's thing, and we've had lots of sun so far this summer!

Now we just have to wait until the potatoes are ready for some more justified digging-that-happens-not-in-the-sandbox!

Random Thoughts for 2014-07-08 - I Should Really Start Writing this Stuff Down

Or I should start thinking out loud while recording myself on my phone. I have a lot of really funny random thoughts while I'm doing mundane things like driving, washing dishes, walking from the bathroom to my office, and trying to sleep.

Then I get here and my mind has a running commentary of, "La la la la, la la la la." Bitch.

I think I'm addicted to smut. I finished my last e-book last night (a Noelle Adams/Stacy Joy Netzel duet called Surprised by Family), and I'm jonesing. Seriously. I'm a little grumpy and looking for my next fix.

Sex-after-kids tip for you: Quickies. And, your kids don't even have to be in bed. More on that later, but to be nice, I should give you a TMI warning now. Give me a couple days to get back to you on that.

My desk at work: Immaculate.

My desk at home: Fucking dumping ground for everybody's crap. Oh. Wait. 99% of that shit is mine.

Sigh.

K1 decided that due to arm and leg pain (which always is considerate enough to show up at bedtime), he needed some mushroom soup to make it feel better. He had mushroom soup the night before, and wanted someone to put the leftovers in a container for later. So hubby took it to the kitchen and fucking ate it. Then containered up the leftovers in the pot. Okay, so no big deal, right? My mom used that last night to make a casserole-ish dinner, so there isn't any mushroom soup left.

"Who did what happened to my container?"

"Uh... How about some cottage cheese?"

"Okay."

After that, he still needed mushroom soup to feel better.

I had a "Go the Fok to Sleep" moment.

Ugh. I should probably get ready for work. So I'm not late. Or something.

Random Thoughts 2014-06-15

We were all in the car the other day, and we missed turning at a light because the guy in front of us took for freaking ever to check out the traffic situation before he left the line (it was good for the full 60 seconds it took him to make a decision). Hubby, who was driving, said something, or made some kind of noise.

K1: What, Daddy?
Daddy: Some people don't know how to drive.
K1: Why do some people don't know how to drive?
D: Because they didn't have Daddy to teach them.
K1: Oh. Did they only have Mommies to teach them?

Yep. Of course, this mommy taught daddy to drive, so, yeah.

I've become that person. The person who needs a cup (or two) of coffee in the morning, or she's a real meanie. It's half decaf, and half full-caf, which makes it like Half Ass, but since that's too expensive, I mix it myself.

I'm being micro-managed. By a close relative. I feel like I'm fourteen and I haven't done my chores, or something. Bad Spinny. But I'm not. Fourteen. I'm almost forty. Don't tell anyone. Does that mean that I'm being micromanaged because I'm being seen as a bad parent? Or housewife? Maybe I need to have a conversation.

I need to have a conversation with someone about my broken foot. It's getting pretty annoying. I might start using crutches again. Not at home, though. Too hard. You put one down on a Hot Wheel, and you might as well order up a wheelchair. Maybe I need something that I can strap to my knee, like a pirate peg-leg, and use that (with the rest of my leg still attached but hanging out behind) to hobble around on. Yo ho ho.

It's Father's Day today. I made waffles. That's usually Hubby's job. Oh, yeah, I still have to freeze the leftovers. His are better.

So, we're getting in the car to come home today, and K1 finds out that I'm driving.

K1: I want Daddy to drive.
Me: Why?
K1: He's a better driver.
Me: Oh? How come?
K1: His waffles are better.

I can't really argue with that logic. I'm laughing too hard.

101 Things to do for Kids: #44--Talk about Food

44. When food shopping, talk to your child about what you see -- from kumquats to lobsters. Talk about where food items come from. Talk about the people who help us by growing, picking, transporting, and displaying food.

We rock on this one.  K1 (who is four) helps me bake all the time, and he knows the difference between baking soda and baking powder. My kids have eaten tamarinds. They aren't for the faint of heart. We even planted some potatoes (K1 bought one from the plant store--totally his idea!). They were then promptly dug up a couple days later so that he could see if they had grown any bigger.

Ha ha. Potatoes. That reminds me of the time that I went to a conference regarding GMO foods, and a health-food-store owner told a story about a woman who walked into the store, took one look at the bin of dirty potatoes (he'd heard that they keep better if you leave some of the dirt on them), and started chewing out the staff; how dare they be so horrible as to let the potatoes get dirty!

Um, yeah, potatoes grow in the ground. In. Under. As in, you have to dig them up and wash them in order for them not to be dirty. Onions, beets, and carrots are like that, too, by the way. Tamarinds grow on trees. Or at least, they do in the picture on the box that they came in.

Anyway, now I'm reminded of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. I watched the episode from the UK; one girl could identify a few of the vegetables, but most of the kids could only tell you the colour. That is kind of sad.

(I was talking about this with a coworker, and she told me of the time that some British exchange students were billeted at her house for a weeknight; they had their usual meal of meat, potatoes, and vegetables. The girls were mortified that the family had gone out of their way to prepare them a Sunday dinner for them. I remember that being a standard dinner at my house--meat, potatoes or rice or pasta, two veggies (one green, one "yellow" (cauliflower was in the "yellow" category)) and a salad. Every meal.)

That (two paragraphs up) reminds me of the kids in Super Size Me who all knew who Ronald McDonald was, but couldn't identify Jesus. Actually, my kids probably don't know who Jesus is yet, either, since we don't go to church, but also don't know Ronnie. At least, I don't think that they do. Whatever happened to the Hamburgler?

Anyway, what I think that I'm trying to say on this one is that yes, kids totally need to know where food comes from (beyond a grocery store), but if the parents don't know, and aren't interested in finding out, and would rather buy a pre-made salad instead of making one, those kids are going to grow up thinking that all food comes from a shelf at the store, and all you have to do is open up the bag or the box and pop it in a microwave or oven to "cook" it. I guess at least that's a slightly higher skill set than going through a drive-through every day. I'll give them that.

I'm still all for teaching my kids from where real food originates, how it grows, and how to prepare it. K1 is really good at stirring; most of the batter stays in the bowl, now. K2 is pretty interested, too, and he's 18 months; he's constantly dragging a chair over so that he can see what's going on. Pretty soon I may even get K1 prepping meals, and not just baked goods. As long as it's fun, he's totally in to it. And he's learning some fractional math already, and he doesn't even know it!

Now if only he was as in to the cleanup part like his brother; you cannot keep that kid out of the dishwasher. Sometimes literally.

Speaking of cleanup, I should probably run.

Oh, and I dare you to leave a few tamarinds lying around your house when you have company coming!!

Tee hee.

Has it Really Been that Long??? Random Thoughts for June 4th 2014. BMBR: Smut

Really? May 8th was my last post? Seriously? WTF happened?

I knew I've been busy, but I didn't think I've been that busy.

(Looks down at her legs.)

Actually, that's a lot of hair... Maybe I have been that busy, because judging from the amount of hair that's on my legs, I have been super busy. To busy to shave, anyway. I have an amount of leg hair that's acceptable on tree planters, hippies from the Kootenays, and European Women. I was never a tree planter, I was too yuppy to be a hippy when I lived in the Kootenays (but I was too hippy for the yuppies, so guess how well I fit in there), and I was born in Canada to Canadian-born parents, so I can't really ride the European-Excuse wave.

And, it's been hot out lately, and I want to start wearing skirts to work, but let's face it, even Sasquatches would hand me a razor.

Okay, really, I don't care about hairy legs, and I think all women should feel comfortable enough with having hairy legs. Hair-free legs take less sunscreen, though.

I have been reading a lot. Of smut. Don't tell anyone. About the smut part.

Sure, you say. Too busy to shave your legs, but you can read smut. Uh huh. 

Okay, I have two kids who love to watch TreehouseTV, a husband who loves to watch hockey (It's fucking June. Playoffs should be over in March. I mean, it's hockey. If the ice has melted off of the ponds in the middle of Canada, hockey should be over. Or over by the end of March. I can give you til the end of March. But June? Come on), and two broken feet. Or something. I find out about the feet tomorrow.

So yay, I get to sit down on the couch for large portions of the day (or dose myself on great quantities of ibuprofen) so that I don't end up in excruciating pain, which means that the kids or the hubby hang with me, which means that they've picked the TV shows (otherwise it's Mommy do this and Mommy do that and all of that this-ing and that-ing equals Mommy being on her feet which doesn't really help the broken feet issue), which means that I surreptitiously hold my phone off to the side and read my Kindle.

And lately, I've been reading a lot of smut. My husband's not complaining.

BMBR: I've been reading Shana Galen and Mimi Jean Pamfiloff. Worth the ebook prices.

Read a Joanna Wylde novella called Be Careful What You Wish For, thank god, because it was okay, but I'm really glad I read that before committing myself to the expensive Reaper books that are waiting in Sample Land for me. I was excited for these books, but now, not so much. Maybe the writing got better by the time she wrote them. Sigh. Maybe I'll take one out of Sample Land. In the meantime, check out the cover of BCWYWF. You can judge this book by it's cover. I will allow it. I wish I had.

Did you know that Twizzlers come in rainbows? They make wonderful little caterpillar legs.

I made a caterpillar out of cupcakes for a birthday cake. So cute.

Huh. I've been sitting here for five minutes trying to think of another random thought, but I've actually been zoned out, so I guess my next random thought should be about bed. Or maybe checking out FB and seeing what the 18 messages/notifications are all about.

I bet at least ten of them are invitations to play FB games.

I'd rather shave my legs, thanks.