Terrible Twos.

Terrible Two's is an understatement.

It should be called the apocolyptic two's.
Or the absolute-edge-of-sanity-two's
Or the one-more-day-like-this-and-I'm-going-to-shoot-myself-in-the-face-two's.

You catch my drift.

It's amazing how sweet and kind and bright little Carter is.  Sometimes I look at the two of us together and I have myself convinced that I am doing a great job; I am the best mom in the world.  Eat your heart out.  Sometimes I see him holding hands with Mike, walking through the parking lot into the grocery store and my heart just swells with pride and love. 

Sometimes.

Other times, I have days like today.  The whining and nagging and screaming starts at 8 in the morning and does not relent until 8 at night.  No matter what I do.  I make every effort in the world to please my son.  Oftentimes, I go overboard and make life far too easy for him, sometimes I know I don't discipline him, sometimes I give him treats even though he's being a total brat just to shut him up.  But I also know that I am a cool mom and I am always trying something new to keep him entertained and engaged, and I always try to incorporate education into all of our activities.  I am not perfect, not by a long shot.  And on days like today, that is never more evident.

I took the short man and the baby (baby strapped to my chest, 2 year old holding my hand) to the grocery store up the street to get tomatoes and onions.  I've done this on good days and everything's gone fine.  Great, even.  But today was bad.  He insisted that we take his lightning mcqueen car, and then he insisted on pushing it on the sidewalk alllllllll the way to the grocery store.  Fine, whatever.  I guess.  Oliver is teething so he's not being an angel either, but whatever, he's pushing the car, everything's fine.  We eventually get there.  Carter is grabbing all kinds of fruit and yum yum's, as he calls every sugary thing he can find, and just dropping random shit all aver the grocery store.  I pick some things up, but having 20 pounds strapped to your chest and a 2-year old who won't hold your hand is severely limiting when you never excercise and you smoke cigarettes, so some things just stay on the ground.  And some tomatoes end up beside the baby food.  What?  I'm not super-woman.  I'm just trying to get through a grocery trip sp I can make my hard-working husband some dinner for a change.

Eventually, I wrangle the three of us to the express lane; all the while wondering what happened to the sweet little baby that I gave life to in March 2010.  Then, as Carter spots the Kinder eggs, I realize that that sweet little baby is gone.  My 2 year old terror is now asserting his own independence in a world that just doesn't agree with him.  But, remembering that we handicap our children when we make life easy for them, I choose the tantrum over giving in.  What a scene.

Dirty looks from every direction.  3 people ahead of me in line while I just pray that not every last one of them is paying with debit (which they are) while Carter throws himself on the floor kicking and screaming and embarrassing me.  Sticking to my guns.  No matter what.  He runs, I run, baby starts crying because he has smacked his head into my bonier-than-normal collarbones as I pick up Carter and now have to carry over 50 pounds, plus a full grocery bag 6 blocks home.

Yippee.

Carter is freaking out the entire way home and when we get there, I remember my mother's tried and true method and I carry that little bugger all the way upstairs and into his bed.  And I say to him you get all of your crying out, and when you're nice and calm you come out of your room and give mommy a kiss, okay?

Well it wasn't 40 seconds later whan he emerges from his room, red and bleary-eyed and looking for some kisses.  Nice and calm. 




For about 10 minutes.

The Time The Dresser Fell On Carter

This morning was a morning like any other morning.  I woke up, dreading what lie ahead of me for the day.  The whining.  The refusing to eat.  The long walk to the park.  More whining.  Long walk home from the park.  More refusing to eat.  Begging for freezies.  Begging to help me with the laundry.  Throwing shit.  Drawing on shit.  Carter being Carter.  No day is ever easy, but I weather the storms like any other stay-at-home mother.  AND - say what you will, it is MUCH harder to be a stay-at-home mother than it is to be a mother who has a day job.  I just had to get that off my chest. 

So actually, all in all, the morning was going well.  Oliver was happy (Oliver is always happy) and Carter wasn't whining too much, and I was thinking about packing a picnic and heading to Gage Park with the kids and the dog.  I decided to mull it over in the shower.  I put Ollie in his crib to watch his Ocean Wonders aquarium, and Carter just had the run of the house as usual.  Cars was on.  So I have myself a shower.  I'm conditioning my hair and singing Psycho Killer, and then I hear screaming.  Not regular run-of-the-mill-Carter-being-a- shithead kind of screaming, but painful screaming.  I take a second to process the fact that I'm really wet and naked and I have no idea what's going on or where it's happening, and I just poke my head out and I notice that Oliver's dresser is... not upright. 

I make a mad dash.  I am totally naked.  Carter is wedged between Ollive's crib and dresser, and the weight of the dresser is pretty well just resting against his forehead.  I'm being calm.  I am aware that when you make a big deal out of these things, it tends to scare kids and make things a million times worse for them.  So I'm the hero.  I lift the dresser with one hand and scoop out my baby with the other.  I check him over for any serious damage.  He has a mark across his temple and his eye, it might turn into a black eye.  But he seems okay.

I, however, am not okay.

I call everyone whose number I know by heart.  My baby just got crushed by a piece of furniture and I have to get him to the hospital!  Horrible things are running through my head!  Concussions!  Internal bleeding!  Aneurisms!  Ebola!  You name it - and no one answers the phone.  I have no money for a cab and now I'm just angry because I know that certain people I've called are deliberately ignoring my call.  So I turn to facebook and make a big, embarrassing, F-bome-ridden status update that I later deleted pleading for help.  Everything is fine at this point - Carter is eating a freezie and just being a little sooky because his new jungle gym fell on him.  Shit happens.  He's being a champ about it.

But you know what happened?  My not-as-close-as-we-should-be friend Katrina called me and offered to drive us to emerge, and just check on us to see if everything's okay.  And that meant a lot to me.  And even though I'm not extending my deepest gratitude in a traditional way, I am broadcasting it on my blog and I'm sure she'll read this and know that it meant the world.  I am going to make myself a good friend to her - even if she doesn't want me to. 

And throughout the day, an outpouring of concern and similar "bad mother" stories flooded my facebook inbox, from some rather surprising sources.  And I learned a couple of valuable lessons today.

1.  Dressers should be anchored.
2.  Some family members may not answer the phone because they have a headache, or because they have the flu for the tenth time this week, or because they're scared you want to bring your busy, loud little boy over to interrupt their TV show (I'm not talking about my parents, who are wonderful grandparents who happen to be in another province today)
3.  Freezies are a magic cure-all.
4.  Support can come from unexpected places and...
5.  It's time to be a better friend.

OH!  And also,
6.  It may be better to shower before bed rather than in the mroning, because all the bad shit goes down as soon as I turn my back for 5 seconds.  Of course.

Thanks, guys.

o_0

Wow.  Today isn't very awesome.
I must be going through something.  I just feel sickly.  Like a terminally ill patient.  I'm hungry but I don't want to eat anything.  The baby is driving me up the wall.  He's bored and nothing I seem to come up with is entertaining him in the least.  We went out.  Went for a walk to Tim Hortons in his special car.  We sat and shared some soup and I let him have a timbit.  He's had one short nap... and when he started waking up I felt like jumping off a building.
He just wants to get into everything now.  Everything.  He climbs up on all the furniture constantly and there's just nothing I can do about it!  I keep moving him and saying no, putting him somewhere else with a toy or something but he does it again.  and again.  and again.
I'm lonely at home today by myself too.
I got this great book yesterday that I can't even start reading because I can't take my eye of this kid.  He just climbs on everything.  What are you supposed to do with that?  And of course I never blog anymore so I have to do that... so while I have him temporarily occupied I'm doing this instead of reading my fantastic-sounding new book.
I should be cherishing my time with Carter that I have left before I have to leave him for a week... but right now I just wish he would fall asleep for 3 or 4 hours.  Or go to a friend's house and bother the shit out of some other kid's mom for a while (someday!!!).
Well.  He's crying again.
Have I mentioned he doesn't eat anything anymore?!  And when he does it - God, he's picky.
So I've also had it up to here with making 3 different meals for him 6 times every day.
In the end he will always eat cold cuts and cheese.  So.
My heart is beating really hard and really fast and I feel like screaming at somebody but nobody has done anything wrong.  Maybe when Mike comes home he will leave something out of the fridge and I can get my anger out by screaming about botulism or something.
I'm doing the very best I can with my life and I just feel like I'm failing everything.
Fucking bi-polar.
Some days and other days.  If only I could put it into words.

I'm going to go eat this orange and spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to appease my baby and how to avoid hearing anybody speak, until I can finally curl up in bed and start this whole circus over again tomorrow morning.

I need this vacation.  Badly.

will do.

my 300th post!

The other day my brother and his wife had to move, so I was given the tremendous opportunity to babysit my sweet little niece Payton.  I was pretty excited.
Payton is almost 5 months old.  She's still a sweet little thing and she is just beginning to develop her own personality - my favourite part of babyhood.
Carter is 13 months old, so in comparison he is almost like a little kid.  Hardly any baby left in him.  So of course part of me is beginning to want another baby.  It's just human woman instinct.  Survival of the species and all that shit.  The need to keep procreating (and forgetting how much pregnancy sucks).
Anyway.
Payton was here and for the first 45 minutes or so, everything was great!  Carter was talking to her, she was smiling, I was starting to think this dual baby thing wasn't so hard after all.
But Carter got jealous.  And once Carter got jealous, there was no keeping the peace.
I couldn't hold the baby without Carter getting all bent out of shape.  He was screaming at me, giving me shit, throwing an absolute fit!  And I couldn't put Payton down because she had gotten hip to the game and decided that she was going to throw a fit if I paid Carter any attention.
So I was bouncing back and forth between crying babies like a pinball.
This went on for such a long time.  I thought I was going to get a break when Carter took a nap but he couldn't take his eyes off Payton.  She stole his mommy.  He was going to have to sleep with one eye open.
Eventually he got over-tired which only made things worse.  So I put him in his crib and let him cry himself to sleep (I never do this!)  And he eventually did.
Then Payton fell asleep.  But she woke up after 20 minutes in a great mood so we hung out and had a great time until my mom came home and saved me from the insanity.
Anyone who knows Carter will tell you that he is not the kind of kid to throw kinipshin fits because he's jealous of another kid.  But they would be wrong.  Because that's exactly what kind of kid he is.

Anyway, I'm just glad I realize now that I don't want to have another baby until Carter is old enough to pour his own cereal.

A Letter To Myself: Calm The Fuck Down

Dear Me,

It's so easy to be unhappy.
It is too easy to look at someone else's life and think: wow, I wish I had the guts, I wish I had those experiences, I wish I had that talent, I wish I had that outlook, I wish I had that job...
It can be especially hard when your brain doesn't really know what it wants, what's best for you or what will make you happy.
It can be hard when your brain just doesn't want you to be happy.
There is a never-ending war going on in your head between what your chemistry naturally does, and what you know you want.  It takes bravery to know the difference.  It takes love for life to actually do something about it.
The thing is... when you are feeling on top of the world, when everything you do feels right and when all you want is to love everyone around you - that is good.  That is real.  That is happiness.  And when you're feeling like you just want to run away and leave everything behind, that is not real.  That is cowardice and sadness catching up with you because you haven't been maintaining yourself appropriately.
Shitty fucking shit happens to everyone.
Everyone has regrets, and everyone wishes they had made the most of the time they had before they carved their future out in stone...

But what you have is magnificent.
Self:  You have made so many bad decisions in your past (granted) and you have come out the other end of all of those bad decisions beautiful, smart, caring and gifted.  Not everyone can say that.
You may wish sometimes that you had explored the world while you had the freedom and opportunity and desire.  You didn't.  and if you truly had wanted to, you would have.
It's easy to feel trapped when you settle down and have a baby and decide to be there every day and be the best parent possible - because that means that you're there no matter what.  That kind of pressure can be overwhelming and you shouldn't feel guilty about feeling it.  But you have always trusted your instincts and your passions and they have led you to the place you are in.  You flew into that cage and you shut the door yourself (and it wasn't easy to do).

You have this incredible boy.
You can see it in him all the time: you.  Little pieces of yourself surface in this itty bitty creature, and he has so much to discover.  Isn't that exciting?  He has to learn so much, and most importantly he has to carve out some sort of self out of this lump of a body that you gave to him.  You gave him this chance to live and to experience and to love in a world where life is decidedly given less and less each day.  You gave birth.  Remember?  Remember the exquisite pain and the car ride to the hospital?  Remember when he came out and didn't cry at all?  The doctors were worried - they didn't let you hold him, remember?  But he was fine, he was great: he was ready to be here.  And you were ready to have him.  Remember when you first looked into his eyes?  You thought he would look so much different.  He was already his own person.

You took him home.  You cried when he would refuse to sleep.  You mixed a million bottles full of formula.  You watched him grow, bang his head on every single thing and you kissed every boo-boo and you changed every poopy diaper.  You were his mommy.  And nobody could have loved him any more than you.  And you know it.

It's so easy to be unhappy when it's what your brain naturally wants to do.  It takes so much more strength and courage to look misery in the eye and tell it to fuck off.  You have made this life, and it is full of love.  It may not include exotic places right now, it may not include a big move to Montreal.  But it includes a home.  It includes the luxury of late nights and glasses of wine.  It includes watching your son learn to walk and talk, and learning that his favourite food is chicken nuggets and his favourite person is his daddy.
His daddy.  That's another thing.  You really made a good decision there.

Relax.  Stay on your meds.  Know that when life gave you lemons, you made lemonade and know that when you were faced with a decision, you made it.  No one else.  And it got you this incredible family, and they're waiting for you to go to bed and make them pancakes in the morning.

You did good.  Calm down.

Carter and the Black Kid.

My kid hates all the baby gates.  Hates 'em.
Let's say Carter didn't have all these gates around the house.
Where does he think he's going to go?
He's always staring out the back door, or the front window, and you can see that he is contemplating his great escape.
Sometimes I wonder.  If I just opened all the gates, and the back door, where would he go?  Would he bravely set off into the world (and get hit by a car or eaten by a coyote, surely) or would he make it to the sidewalk and decide that he doesn't really want to go out there without mommy's guidance?
I would surely hope for the latter.
But how much do our babies really think they need us?  How much are they really aware of?  Are they even aware of how much they depend on us to survive?  Who do they even think we are, when they're still babies?  I guess they know we're important.  But why do they think we ended up together, in this house with all the gates?  What in the world are the babies thinking?

We were at the wal mart supercenter last night.  Carter normally doesn't pay much attention to other people, but bigger kids?  Oh, he loves big kids.  There was a black kid behind us in line, he was probably 6 or something.  Carter just looked at him and laughed and laughed and laughed.  What the hell was he thinking?  I don't think he'd ever seen a black kid before, so he was probably a little taken aback by that, surely.  But what else?  Was he all like 'dude!  How did you get out of that shopping cart?  Why are you letting them keep that hat on your head?  How did you unbuckle yourself?'
This black kid loved Carter too.  They just laughed at each other the entire 7 minutes that we stood in that check out line at wal mart.  Then, when they walked past us in the parking lot, Carter gave him a big smile and a wave.  He loved that black kid.
Apparently, when I saw a black guy for the first time, he was at our house and I ran under the kitchen table and hid from him for god knows how long.  But eventually I grew to love him very much.  I don't remember any of this.

On second thought, I am probably (or most definitely) over-estimating his abilities to think real, rational thoughts.  I've seen him play, after all.
When I pull this, the drawer opens.
When I push the drawer, it closes.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Close.
FUNNEST GAME EVER!!!

And then he discovered the dropping shit on the floor game.
Wow, this toy is cool and everything, but what will happen when I drop it?
Oh, mommy picks it up.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop again.
HAHAHAHAHA!  FUN!
Oh, sad face, mommy's not giving the toy back anymore...

And it's even more fun with food.
Mmmmm, timbits!
(throws timbit)
(mommy replaces timbit)
(throws again)
WHAT A FUN GAME!
.....
what, no more timbits?
I'll just start crying, then.

my cute kid - photos

a bow and arrow.

That's it, the kid is a year old now.  And I haven't uploaded pictures yet.  Whatever, I'll do it when I feel like it.  It's a huge pain in the ass because I don't have the USB cable (and haven't since I got the camera) so.. I don't want to explain it.  Just trust me that it's a real bitch to upload photos.

I am (obviously) very congratulatory of myself for surviving an entire year of motherhood!  And I am thriving!  I'm doing so much better than I thought I would, and Carter is surprisingly well-adjusted.  Hitting milestones in a timely fashion, smiling more than any other baby I've ever seen, saying BABYCAKES (he says it, I swear to you.  Sounds like GAY KAY, but he's saying BABYCAKES).  Mike and I are still in love with each other.  I'm exactly the size I was before I got pregnant (except for the bingo arms.  I do have  a slight case of the bingo arms).  At any rate, I did it guys!

This got me thinking about what my role is as a parent.
We were at Sears today and I was giving Carter some water to drink, and it dawned on me: he doesn't belong to me.  He stopped belonging to me the second that cord was cut.  I was his way in to the world.  I was the vessel that carried him to his first breath, and that is what my purpose has been.  It's not as sad as it sounds.  I want him to be his own person.  I don't want to own his feelings, or his thoughts, and I don't need to feel heartbroken when he sets off on a life of his own, without me.  This will eventually happen, of course.

He is the arrow.  And I am the bow.  And my job is of tantamount importance.  I steadily hold myself.  I take aim for as far as I possibly can.  And only when my aim is perfect and I am confident in my shot do I take it.  And that's what parenting is, to me.  Well, of course it's a lot more complicated than that, but that is the best metaphor I can think of.  A bow and an arrow.  One is hopeless without the other, and yet they are mutually exclusive and separate pieces altogether.

I think if people thought about things the way my over-reaching mind thinks of things, they would probably take their positions in life a lot more seriously.

this is right now.

The House is a Mess.

Why is my blog losing followers?
I'm going to disable the following function, that way my feelings don't have to get hurt all the time by complete strangers.  I hope you're all happy.

So the dogs are driving me fucking nuts.  Well, actually the dogs are really just the beginning.  My parents have been gone for over 2 weeks now.  And the dogs go absolutely apeshit when my mom isn't home.  They don't know what to do with themselves.  They're like a couple of weirdos at a televangelist church.  You probably didn't understand that one, but in my mind it made perfect sense.  They are a couple of televangelists and they can't find Ted Haggard.  They're completely flipping out.  Babycakes, right now, is panting insanely, staring at me and whimpering for no reason I can figure.
They make themselves so sick with worry and stress that they shit and puke on the floor in the middle of the night.  And I have to clean it.
And then there's the brood of boys in the house who are all seemingly incapable of picking up after themselves.  I was resisting at first.  Let them live in their own filth, I said to myself.  But sure enough, things got so bad that I had no choice but to scrape the moldy dishes, wipe every surface with ammonia and wash barf out of carpets (baby and dog).  Plus, Carter began taking the wheels off of Ryan's tiny skateboard toys and crawling around with them hidden in his cheek.  So something had to be done.
The absolute lack of respect and gratitude from everybody in this family is staggering.  I am taking care of everything and at the end of the day, I usually have to deal with Mike trying to get in my pants.  Not cool.  Not cool at all.  He doesn't get it.  Anybody else would have stolen a credit card and gone to a hotel to save their sanity.
Being in this position has made me decide to get an IUD.  I think that's the one that they implant in your arm and you can't get knocked up for 5 years.  I want that one, whatever its name is.  If I had another boy and had to deal with another man's bullshit and disgusting habits, I would probably end up on a slab of some description.
Oh well.  That's what's going on the last little while.  I am also planning a small party for Mowgli's first birthday.  I can't believe how much fun some mothers have doing this sort of thing.  I think I'd rather just rent a big bouncy castle and call it a day.  Turns out, they're not cheap.

What came first, the drinking or the blogging?  I hardly recall.

The Night Sean Kingston Wouldn't Let Me Sleep.

I have this really weird thing that I do.  Like musical Tourette's.  Only with really annoying songs.  And so for the last few days I have been randomly blurting out Somebody Call 911!  (To the tune of the Sean Kingston song, of course)



That awful song.
So I be in the kitchen, you know how I roll.  I be doing the dishes or something.  Then I'll just be like SOMEBODY CALL 911!  And then continue with the dishes.  It makes Mike and Carter laugh and it always makes me feel awesome.  I have also done this with other songs, such as: Sweet Caroline, Shake That Laughy Taffy, Tear in my Beer, and The Bed Intruder song (Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife).  It's funny, it is.  Maybe it doesn't sound like it here, but trust me.  It's funny.  Anyways.

Last night I had a hard time falling asleep.  Again.
The Sean Kingston song is stuck in my head.
I almost get to sleep, and then it's like the black man in my head just shouts SOMEBODY CALL 911!!  And it fucking pisses me off.  Of course it's my own fault.  Whenever I do anything that amuses myself it's like my brain won't let it go.  Believing that I'm funny sometimes is what gets me through most days. SOMEBODY CALL 911!  *grooooooooan*
And as everyone knows: Me, Mike and Carter all share a tiny little bedroom (but we bought a house so this semi-creepy arrangement will be coming to an end shortly).
Carter - whenever he has a couple of boogers up his nose - makes a flat C tone whenever he exhales in his sleep.
So.
Somebody call 911!
*baby nose whistle*
SHAWTY A FIRE BURNIN ON DA DANCE FLO!
*baby nose whistle*
OOO OH OHHHH!

Oh the humanity of it all.
And then of course I start thinking about the fact that I have to blog about this fucking Sean Kingston song, and then I'm even more awake, trying to work out the format of my humourous post about really annoying dance (dance?)  Top 40 songs.
Eventually my brain quiets down a little bit.  But then as soon as it does the baby with the musical boogers wakes up screaming for no reason whatsoever.
And then I get up and eat a banana.  And then I try to go back to bed but I have to brush my teeth because it's just such an awful taste to go to sleep with.  So I go do that.  And I go pee while I'm at it.
I fall asleep about 4 hours after I first try.

And I forgot to mention, Mike snored the entire time.

And sometimes I turn songs into literal plays on words:

I don't know. That's just the way I am.

Dear Carter

So I was staring into your crib last night and I was thinking about life and death.  And I started wondering if I'm scared to die or not.  I know I'm going to die someday; long before you, if I'm lucky.  I am not scared of death, I decided, but I am scared that I am not appreciating my life as much as I could be.  And I don't mean that I wish I accomplished everything I thought I would when I was a little girl.  This is a waste of time: I am not that person anymore.  When I say appreciating life what I mean is: If I died today, would I have played with you enough?  Will I have left enough love behind for you that you will always know you had a mother who would have done anything for you?  Should we be cuddling every second of every day?

I suspect that no matter how many hours cuddling or playing or reading to you in bed I log, it will never be enough for me.  That's the sad realization I came to last night while I was gazing at your snotty face, watching you sleep.  I did this thing.  I had you.  It's something that almost every woman will go do at some point, having a child.  But it probably feels like the same thing to them too - like they just did this incredible thing and nothing they ever do after the deed is done will ever measure up to the standards that this perfect little creature has demanded of you.  You are magical.  With you in my life, nothing I ever do could be considered a waste.  I hate to put this on you, because I know it's kind of heavy, but I live for you.  After I squeezed you out (and squeezed I did) you became the center of the world.  I would like to thank you for saving me from myself.

This blog is here, primarily, for you.  It is here so that one day - even though I will have changed and probably start lying to you the way mothers seem to end up lying to their children - you will read this blog and you will know who your mother was.  Who she really was.  Or is.  Whatever.  I have always longed to have known who my parents really are as people, and not just my parents, but that ship has sailed.  If for some reason I shouldn't be around anymore to give you everything you need, you have all of my neurotic crap to read to remind you that I love you.  That I have a sense of humour about life and also a very tragic way of relating things.

You're in your play pen.  Standing up and staring at me, and chewing on the edge of it with your 4 new top teeth.  Your nose has been running for 4 days solid and today you had zoodles, baloney and cheese for lunch.  And I am going to take you out of the play pen now, and we will go have a nap together.  Because I'll be damned if I'm going to take this precious time with you for granted.  My beautiful boy.

Things I Wish I'd Known

• If you don't eat vegetables, you will have a hard time trying to poop.
• You can make any drink or dessert fancy and luxurious with just one thing: whipped cream.
• It's a good idea to be measured every time you go bra shopping.
• The best lipstick shades are the ones within 2 or 3 shades of your natural lip colour.
• A real friend is one you can go months without speaking with while still knowing that they think of you and love you.
• Try not to depend on anyone else unless you absolutely have no choice.
• People like you more when you don't give a shit.
• Don't trash another person when they're not around just so you can fit in - what goes around comes around.
• Everyone will disappoint you; it's important to forgive.
• Never buy something just because someone else looks great in it
• When you tolerate mistreatment, you're making yourself look like an idiot.
• Nothing is sexier than a woman who is comfortable in her clothes.
• When there is nothing else to discuss on a date - bring up Neil Young.
• You can never really know another person.
• A cup of tea can alleviate 75% of all problems.
• A glass of wine can alleviate 99%.
• You will always wish you travelled more.
• Loving yourself seems easy but will take a lifetime to truly cultivate
• When grown up problems have you miserable, read a children's book (I recommend The Little Prince)
• You may lose control over your thoughts and feelings, and you may feel hopeless and alone, but it will always pass.
• Get used to the idea of dying early on.
• If there is a God, you will not find Him in a church.
• Trust one person completely.
• Home is where you decide to make it.
• Don't abandon your hobbies, regardless of how busy you are
• Love is worth the heartbreak and experience is worth the risk of failure.
• Quality over Quantity.
• Less is always more.
• If you have to cry, go outside.
• Always carry a 20 dollar bill.
• Talk to old people, they have a lot to offer.
• You may need medication.  Take it and don't be embarrassed.
• Treat your body the way your lover treats your body.
• Mothers usually do know best.  But not always.
• Don't be so polite.  Nobody else is anyway.

Total Physical Exhaustion.

I bought new shoes today.  And 2 new tops, one of which I've had my eye on for weeks and was lucky to snag at the Vintage boutique that I love.  That was today.  Carter came alone and we spent the afternoon together.  Strangers made him cry, the wind made his boogers crusty and his Tombly Boo fell in the mud.  But he had a really good time, and I'm glad we spent the day together!
Now, I have started a new job at a bar in Stoney Creek.  This was my second week there, and I am making peanuts.  No money at all.  It's pitiful.  But I love my boss and the people that come into the bar all the time and I get to wear whatever I want! (I am a really big fan of not having to wear what employers tell me to wear.  Big fan.)  Anyway.  Yesterday I worked for 13 hours straight and got dicked around by drunken assholes who didn't want to pay me, and I had an anxiety attack in front of my boss, her boyfriend, and the seedy clientele who, very shortly after, left abruptly and without tipping me.  Yesterday was a horrible, horrible day.  So I know I haven't been around much the last little while, but I need to relax right now.  Just for a while.  And then I will be back.

Rules for Mike.

Unspoken rules are the glue of any relationship.
For instance, it's a rule that men will think about sex all day, every day, in every and all situations, and many times you will not make cameos in his fantasies.  Which is fine.  But if Mike admitted this to me, he would be fantasizing his way all the way to a homeless shelter with a black eye.  But that's just men.  They're filthy.  Everybody knows it.
The set of rules that go along with being with me every day are actually kind of amusing.  I spent all day yesterday recognizing my high-maintenance tendencies and jotting them down so that I could share them with internet-world this morning.

• I may rub you with my bare feet all I want.  But if you so much as touch me with your dis-coloured, fungus-ridden toe nails I will punch you in your sleep.
• I may snore.  But you will have to wake up and switch to sleeping on your stomach when your snoring wakes me up.
• You will call and order the pizza.  I will never call and order the pizza.  
• I will walk by and you will try to smack my bum.  and any time I don't manage to avoid your sexual harassment, I will give you a wet willy when you're least expecting it.
• I may complain about anything, everything, cry and agonize and you will hold me and bring me chocolate.  You may only complain sarcastically.  And then I will assume everything is fine.  My mental stability is much more questionable than yours is, darling.
• I will pick the movie.  All the movies you like are shitty.
• Whenever I want to make an unnecessary purchase just to make myself happy, you can't say anything.  You have to let me regret it myself, later.  This will happen, so just trust the process.

The post in which I begrudgingly admit that I still need a little work (on the inside)...

I've given the whole New Years Resolution thing a lot of thought.

And I have decided that it is bullshit.

After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I could not attempt to be any better than I already am, because it would be futile and would only result in disappointment.

Okay, I have one resolution: let go of the anger.

Here's a secret: I am a very angry lady.  And I can hold a grudge with the best of them.  But when I make a mistake, I expect others to forgive me.  Albeit, some things are completely unforgivable and I refuse to even entertain the thought, but I should probably stop thinking about all the shitty things that have been done to me and focus on the good things that happen every day.
For instance, Carter is saying mama all the time now.  *Insert big, shit eating grin here*
Oh, and I still love my job (and my 2 week hiatus).
Mike is a wonderful guy whose expectations of me remain startlingly low.  Thank God.
I had a very Chanel Christmas.  That was awesome.
Yes, good things happen all the time.  So I need to let go of the anger.
I will not harbour negative thoughts.  My mind is a peaceful, tranquil sea of calm happiness.

I'm still angry.  Maybe I will just shut up about it from now on.  Yes.  Good plan.

So anyway, yeah, fuck resolutions!  Things are going great just the way they are.
Except I am still in this basement.
Maybe in 2011 I should consider working more.  Working harder.  Saving money.
Yes.  Another good plan.

Alright, maybe I'm not perfect.  But at least I've got love.  And Chanel.

Merry Merry Happy Happy!

I'm spoiling my son.

I totally am.  I'm ruining him completely, OMG I don't want to be a terrible mother but I hate when he cried HOW DOES ANYONE MANAGE?!

I've been bad for taking the path of least resistance when it comes to Carter since day one.
Remember when I had to keep him in the Snugli all day, every day?
Remember when he was teething and I let him sleep with us because I couldn't listen to him cry in utter despairing loneliness and pain all night long?
I am a sucker.
And today, I bought him a toy at Sears just to shut him up.  And it didn't even work.
Sigh.  But I love him and he knows exactly how to get what he wants out of me.

Anyway, this is also a note to say MERRY CHRISTMAS to all my readers.  I have been pretty chincey with the posts lately, but Christmas preparations have kept me super busy and much too tired to come up with blogging material.  I know what you're thinking; you actually have to think up this bullshit?  Yes.

Oh!  I went into Zara for the first time ever the other day.  Looky:

: o  !!!!!!!

I don't know when I became this superficial fashion whore but I suspect my time spent as a stay at home mommy has something to do with it.

Anyway, merry christmas and I love you.

GIFSoup

GIFSoup

these days.

It took me a while to accept my place as Carter's mom.
I don't know if this is something all mothers experience or what.  Maybe I had such a hard time because the pregnancy was unplanned, and in the blink of an eye my fun-loving independent lifestyle was gone, and I was in my parents' basement with Mike.  No more independence.  No more freedom.

When Carter came along, I still tried desperately to cling to friendships with people I knew weren't going to want much to do with the new and improved me.  I guilted my old friends into spending time with me and when I went partying, all I could think was what am I doing here?  Who are these people?  But I'm entitled to have fun sometimes too.  I need to get out once in a while too.  So that's what I was doing there.  And who cares who those people were?  They were just there to make me feel like I had friends.

The truth is, I do have friends.  And I don't use them to go out and get shitfaced with me when I'm stressed out and want to feel like the old me.  I'm not the old me anymore.  I'm a better me.
And the friends that I have ask about my son.  They ask how I'm doing.  They understand that I have almost no time for anything anymore.  We don't see each other a whole lot but I know that they are there.  And when push comes to shove, I can ask them for absolutely anything.  There are only a couple of you, and I'm sure you know who you are.  So thank you for letting our friendships evolve along with myself and my new role - mommy.  It means a lot.

Going out and dancing and having some drinks is fun.  It's awesome to do once every few months or so. But I can do that with my husband.  I can do that with my sister-in-law, my brother, even my mom if I begged her long enough.  Maybe not, actually.
And even if I don't wear a dress, heels and false lashes, I still know how to have a good time.  It's just a different kind of good time these days.

Carter and I walk to Tim Hortons and sit for a while with a tea...
My family and I will go to Chapter's for a few hours.
Going to dinner at my mother-in-law's house.  Mmmm.
Car rides.  To any place.
Visiting Teaopia and choosing a few new and exciting varieties of tea...
Having a glass of wine and watching Hell's Kitchen.
Reading a really heavy book.
Making something I never thought I'd be able to - roast beef.  (It was so tasty)
Strolling around downtown Oakville.
Gelato.

This is my life now!  And it's fun, it's happy, and it's full of love.  Why the fuck did I think I needed to get drunk downtown with a bunch of strangers?!

Having Myself a Merry Little Christmas.

So!

Having a baby has made me a little more crafty this Christmas (I know it's still so far away - and that's good because I really haven't gotten any gifts for anyone yet - but celebrating early and long are the only ways to really enjoy the holiday at all).
Mike and I spent a whole lot of money at Michael's getting stuff for me to make festive holiday-type things, and prepare to package the delicious caramel bars I'm making for everyone as gifts.  I really wanted to try watercolours and buy a set of colours, some brushes and a book, but I just didn't have the money.  Sigh.
I'm so excited for Christmas with Carter.  Mike is too.  So excited, in fact, that he already gave C his big Christmas gift already (the laugh and learn stride-to-ride car) because he just couldn't wait.  Now he has to go buy him another one.
Here's what I did.

Pretty awesome.  I know.
And now, here is what I want for Christmas.  You can e-mail me at lindsayoquinn@gmail.com if you need my address.  ;)

Me and Carter's Favourite Stories