Wow. Another week gone. Seems faster and faster.
MasterP and I have another week and a half, and then he is in daycare for four half days, and then I'm back to work.
He's 11 months old today. Yesterday, he took a step on his own. He fell right away, but it's beginning! First step! Woooo!
And, of course, there was JT and Janey's birthday party on Saturday night. First, I must start with the fact that I went feeling ok about myself. I had dug out some prebaby jeans that were fitting, and a trendier shirt, a normal bra (HAH!), my 'pakey' coach bag and my new metalic ballet flats and was thinking I was doing a reasonable job of having ok bar clothes for a mother of two who's been married for nearly 8 years. I was even practicing flirting on the drive in. That's not hot, but a girl should be prepared, you know.
Sadly, I realized several things as I entered the bar: first, while I think that 8:30 is a perfect time to start drinking, apparently, it's not so cool to start before 10. Or, at least, the bar doesn't open before 10. (Luckily for me, my one drink can still be had.) As well, in the time I've been away from the scene doing things like working, having babies and stuff, bar clothes have certainly changed a bit. As I mentioned to another party goer, I'm very happy I'm no longer single. I don't think I can afford that many strapless bras. Finally? While the clothes have gotten fancier, the bathrooms are still just as grotty as they always were.
That being said, there were some definite highlights for me:
1. Seeing the folk I work/ed with and being reminded that really, they're a pretty fun gang.
2. Seeing Miss Emm and her fascinator. Dude! Way to bring it!
3. My somewhat successful forays into the world of flirting. Happily, only one conversation turned awkward such that it required the 'getting a drink' lie.
4. JT's finally calling me 'bella' too. Yay!
5. The random gentleman blocking my exit from the parking garage, who, as he wandered past me with his gang of friends, told me 'Look nice tonight!' despite my stink eye and the two car seats. Seriously, thanks. You're pretty awesome too!
6. And my favorite - Madalone, B and myself very seriously discussing what to drink. Which ended with Madalone ordering shooters and the phrase "I dunno. Six??"
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Heartbreak at the Casa Valentine
So sad.
Husband's friend J has been a regular visitor at the Casa Valentine for a while now. J has been a single guy, and a giant fan of motorcycles, so the guys have been spending the occasional evening fixing stuff up after a communal dinner.
Now. J's a really good guy. He's funny, kind, loyal, helpful, and smells great. He's not quite my style, but for MlleL, he's hung the moon. He was, in fact, her special guy. She loved his visits, and lavished him with three-year-old affection each time he came, sitting next to him at dinner, sitting on him while he checked out the computer (J is also Husband's LAN guy from work), teasing him and bugging him all evening. He came to her birthday party, and calls her sweetheart.
Until last night.
Last night, J brought his special lady over, and everything was changed for MlleL.
As I tucked her into bed last night, we had this conversation:
"I'm sad."
"I know, baby. I'm sorry."
"Do you think she plays games?"
"Well, yeah, honey, I think she plays grown-up games."
"Does she have lots of toys?"
"Well, sweetheart, I guess she does."
"Grown-up ones?"
"Probably. She's a mama too. Her little girls aren't little anymore."
"They're big kids too?"
"Yeah, but you know, J still loves you."
"......"
I mean, how do you explain what she has that I don't to a three-year-old?
Husband's friend J has been a regular visitor at the Casa Valentine for a while now. J has been a single guy, and a giant fan of motorcycles, so the guys have been spending the occasional evening fixing stuff up after a communal dinner.
Now. J's a really good guy. He's funny, kind, loyal, helpful, and smells great. He's not quite my style, but for MlleL, he's hung the moon. He was, in fact, her special guy. She loved his visits, and lavished him with three-year-old affection each time he came, sitting next to him at dinner, sitting on him while he checked out the computer (J is also Husband's LAN guy from work), teasing him and bugging him all evening. He came to her birthday party, and calls her sweetheart.
Until last night.
Last night, J brought his special lady over, and everything was changed for MlleL.
As I tucked her into bed last night, we had this conversation:
"I'm sad."
"I know, baby. I'm sorry."
"Do you think she plays games?"
"Well, yeah, honey, I think she plays grown-up games."
"Does she have lots of toys?"
"Well, sweetheart, I guess she does."
"Grown-up ones?"
"Probably. She's a mama too. Her little girls aren't little anymore."
"They're big kids too?"
"Yeah, but you know, J still loves you."
"......"
I mean, how do you explain what she has that I don't to a three-year-old?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Further conversations with Mrs. Maiden
When I received this fabulous creme from Mindy, and tried it out on my upper arms to see if it would help with the kp I've had all my life (hey Mindy? so far so good!!):
"Now I guess we'll see how MasterP likes it."
When I told her of achieving my summer goal early:
"Watch out for your knees."
When I told her the amusing story of Mr. Valentine (senior) arriving at our house Sunday night to babysit while Husband took me out for my surprise birthday dinner date (!!) and announcing that Husband's cousin R "might get married next month!" (more on this later)
"Just send a big gift. You shouldn't go. I never went to Uncle F's kids' weddings - Husband isn't that close to them, right?"
The Beer Fairy had kids? I don't think it's quite the same, Mom. I mean, Husband has two first cousins here in North America. They're important to him. The first time we'd met the Beer Fairy was at Mindy's wedding five years ago.
"I'm just supporting you."
Thanks, Mom.
"Now I guess we'll see how MasterP likes it."
When I told her of achieving my summer goal early:
"Watch out for your knees."
When I told her the amusing story of Mr. Valentine (senior) arriving at our house Sunday night to babysit while Husband took me out for my surprise birthday dinner date (!!) and announcing that Husband's cousin R "might get married next month!" (more on this later)
"Just send a big gift. You shouldn't go. I never went to Uncle F's kids' weddings - Husband isn't that close to them, right?"
The Beer Fairy had kids? I don't think it's quite the same, Mom. I mean, Husband has two first cousins here in North America. They're important to him. The first time we'd met the Beer Fairy was at Mindy's wedding five years ago.
"I'm just supporting you."
Thanks, Mom.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Peeves - a cautionary tale
I have a peeve that makes me crazy. Makes me just about lose rational thought.
It's when I come back to my car in a parking lot and find that the person who parked in the spot next to me after I've left my car has left me a foot of clearance between my car and their unfailing SUV or minivan.
I've been known to leave nasty, sarcastic notes thanking the driver for their thoughtfulness. It's not big of me, I know. But it's better than keying their car, which I have also considered as I try to contort my body and that of MasterP to fit us into our respective seats.
But I have a new example of what not to do: yesterday, I saw someone take the lower road. Clearly, rational thought had been lost in the face of their greatest peeve.
A car was signalling a right turn from a stoplight, and, as the driver didn't accelerate in a speedy manner, the car in front of me took the opportunity to zip left in front of it. The right turning car was required to brake to avoid collision.
What happened next was nothing short of, well, mortifying for the wife who was trapped in the car with her beloved. Her beloved honked at the car in front of him. And continued to honk, never removing his hand from the horn as he tailgated the offender for 5 or 6 blocks until the offender turned off the road we were all on. Every driver stared. People walking on the sidewalk stopped to watch. Not be outdone, the offender beeped his horn and waved at her beloved as they drove away.
The last we saw of the beloved as he drove away was his middle finger, waving out the window. An over-reaction? Maybe. I mean, probably, yes. But just how long had this been building up?
It's when I come back to my car in a parking lot and find that the person who parked in the spot next to me after I've left my car has left me a foot of clearance between my car and their unfailing SUV or minivan.
I've been known to leave nasty, sarcastic notes thanking the driver for their thoughtfulness. It's not big of me, I know. But it's better than keying their car, which I have also considered as I try to contort my body and that of MasterP to fit us into our respective seats.
But I have a new example of what not to do: yesterday, I saw someone take the lower road. Clearly, rational thought had been lost in the face of their greatest peeve.
A car was signalling a right turn from a stoplight, and, as the driver didn't accelerate in a speedy manner, the car in front of me took the opportunity to zip left in front of it. The right turning car was required to brake to avoid collision.
What happened next was nothing short of, well, mortifying for the wife who was trapped in the car with her beloved. Her beloved honked at the car in front of him. And continued to honk, never removing his hand from the horn as he tailgated the offender for 5 or 6 blocks until the offender turned off the road we were all on. Every driver stared. People walking on the sidewalk stopped to watch. Not be outdone, the offender beeped his horn and waved at her beloved as they drove away.
The last we saw of the beloved as he drove away was his middle finger, waving out the window. An over-reaction? Maybe. I mean, probably, yes. But just how long had this been building up?
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Awkward
Conversation had at the reception after the funeral:
"You're the one who speaks Polish, right?"
"Me? no. I don't speak Polish."
"Well, what languages do you speak?"
"Uh, well, English, I guess, and you know, bureaucratic French, for the most part...."
"Yeah, that's what happens. My kids only speak English as well.... You were born here?"
"Uh, yeah. In Canada, you mean? Yes. I was born in Canada."
"They were born here too. Lost their language as well..."
Well, I suppose, had I ever found Polish, it'd have been a damn shame for me to have lost it.....
Does this shorter hair make me look Eastern European?
"You're the one who speaks Polish, right?"
"Me? no. I don't speak Polish."
"Well, what languages do you speak?"
"Uh, well, English, I guess, and you know, bureaucratic French, for the most part...."
"Yeah, that's what happens. My kids only speak English as well.... You were born here?"
"Uh, yeah. In Canada, you mean? Yes. I was born in Canada."
"They were born here too. Lost their language as well..."
Well, I suppose, had I ever found Polish, it'd have been a damn shame for me to have lost it.....
Does this shorter hair make me look Eastern European?
Friday, September 5, 2008
Hey, Republicans?
First: It's not a war unless there was an act of war signed by both houses. (here's a hint - there hasn't been one for quite some time { June 5, 1941 - the US declared war on Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania in WWII.}) It's a policing action, 'military engagement', or an invasion of a sovereign nation based on lies, suspicion, and oil. Your pick.
Second: What's the deal with wearing things at a convention (or other special events, cheese heads, I'm thinking of you) that you might otherwise never wear? It's easy to imagine getting swept away in the moment, but come on. How cool did you think the elephant's ass hat would look?
Second: What's the deal with wearing things at a convention (or other special events, cheese heads, I'm thinking of you) that you might otherwise never wear? It's easy to imagine getting swept away in the moment, but come on. How cool did you think the elephant's ass hat would look?
What to say, what to say?
Disjointed is the word of the week, my friends...
I've been thinking of working some occurrences into a story, but I can't think of how to do it. Thus, the gap. And the fragmented entry.
The Casa Valentine has had our three bad pieces of news over the past few days, so we're dealing with the outcomes of that. Direct members of the family Valentine are fine. It's my estranged cousin, found after a number of days in his apartment in Denver, my sister-in-law's ex-husband's new wife and their twin babies (not yet born) (got that? P and P have one of the best ex relationships I've ever seen/heard of - mostly due to their shared custody of son A), and the most difficult for us - Husband's beloved 'uncle'.
Instead of sad details of the above, I thought I might detail for you some weird things people say to me about my kids. And what I struggle to say in response:
1. At Toys-r-us, said by a friend of Grandmother Valentine: "He's all Filipino, and she's white!" (really? You say something like that? And really????)
2. At my beloved chiropractor's office: "I love their ears. Are you going to get those fixed?" (Well, they come by them quite honestly. MlleL's bobo ear is the family Valentine. What? I'm not pointing fingers, and MasterP's are quite clearly thanks to Mr. Maiden. But we don't talk about them, a) because they're not an issue for us, and b) because I don't really want them to be aware before they need to be.)
and finally, in explanation of what yesterday's meeting with Boss Lady was like:
3. An uncomfortable try at humour, said to the beautiful east-African S: "S! I think he has your eyes!"
(uh...... !!!!!!)
I've been thinking of working some occurrences into a story, but I can't think of how to do it. Thus, the gap. And the fragmented entry.
The Casa Valentine has had our three bad pieces of news over the past few days, so we're dealing with the outcomes of that. Direct members of the family Valentine are fine. It's my estranged cousin, found after a number of days in his apartment in Denver, my sister-in-law's ex-husband's new wife and their twin babies (not yet born) (got that? P and P have one of the best ex relationships I've ever seen/heard of - mostly due to their shared custody of son A), and the most difficult for us - Husband's beloved 'uncle'.
Instead of sad details of the above, I thought I might detail for you some weird things people say to me about my kids. And what I struggle to say in response:
1. At Toys-r-us, said by a friend of Grandmother Valentine: "He's all Filipino, and she's white!" (really? You say something like that? And really????)
2. At my beloved chiropractor's office: "I love their ears. Are you going to get those fixed?" (Well, they come by them quite honestly. MlleL's bobo ear is the family Valentine. What? I'm not pointing fingers, and MasterP's are quite clearly thanks to Mr. Maiden. But we don't talk about them, a) because they're not an issue for us, and b) because I don't really want them to be aware before they need to be.)
and finally, in explanation of what yesterday's meeting with Boss Lady was like:
3. An uncomfortable try at humour, said to the beautiful east-African S: "S! I think he has your eyes!"
(uh...... !!!!!!)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Saturday Night
We went to a wedding. That of my dear friend S. and her very handsome new husband.
We had the kids all planned out - they were to stay at friends' for the ceremony, and, as the church is close to the Casa Valentine, we were going to RACE to the friends' house, pick the kids up, whirl out to Kanata, where I would nurse MasterP and they would stay with Husband's brother and his family for the remainder of the night while Husband and I would return to the Chateau for the par-tay.
Oh man. We went to the beautiful ceremony, in that church we're knowing better and better. It was lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely. As I said to her, she looked just like a doll - perfection.
After returning to Friends' house and finding MasterP clutching the back of Friend's knees and wailing while she was calmly mixing some cereal (note: this is why we chose the well experienced mums. As I pointed out to Husband - if things don't go well, we need someone unafraid of the crying.) we were not expecting miracles.
But we persevered. We partayed. Deeeelicious food. Scrumptious desserts were had. And then? Calypso music to dance to. And between you and I? Shh. Lean closer. (Super FOINE gentlemen to watch. Whew! Very, very handsome. You sir, with the dreads and the Van dyke. Yeah, I'm talking about you. And you? Angry fella by the corner of the dance floor with the tux shirt on? Goodness. That's like to hurt a girl. And last, but not least, well-built Asian guy in a blue shirt... hey, wait a sec!! Hi, honey!!)
We teared up at the speeches (not all of which were entirely coherent - the best kind!) and prayed fervently with the family that this be the beginning of a long, long life together full of blessings, health and happiness. Please, God.
And the kids?
When we got there, they were both out cold. MasterP in his stroller and MlleL on the floor in a pile of blankets with her big cousin Jman. We carried them to the car and strapped them in and they never woke up. We drove them home and carried them upstairs and put them in their beds and they never woke up. MasterP's first wake up was 5AM, and he went back to sleep until 7:30. MlleL followed at 7, in time to see the balloons fly over the house from the Festival.
Awesome, Awesome, Awesome.
Can we do it again next weekend?
We had the kids all planned out - they were to stay at friends' for the ceremony, and, as the church is close to the Casa Valentine, we were going to RACE to the friends' house, pick the kids up, whirl out to Kanata, where I would nurse MasterP and they would stay with Husband's brother and his family for the remainder of the night while Husband and I would return to the Chateau for the par-tay.
Oh man. We went to the beautiful ceremony, in that church we're knowing better and better. It was lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely. As I said to her, she looked just like a doll - perfection.
After returning to Friends' house and finding MasterP clutching the back of Friend's knees and wailing while she was calmly mixing some cereal (note: this is why we chose the well experienced mums. As I pointed out to Husband - if things don't go well, we need someone unafraid of the crying.) we were not expecting miracles.
But we persevered. We partayed. Deeeelicious food. Scrumptious desserts were had. And then? Calypso music to dance to. And between you and I? Shh. Lean closer. (Super FOINE gentlemen to watch. Whew! Very, very handsome. You sir, with the dreads and the Van dyke. Yeah, I'm talking about you. And you? Angry fella by the corner of the dance floor with the tux shirt on? Goodness. That's like to hurt a girl. And last, but not least, well-built Asian guy in a blue shirt... hey, wait a sec!! Hi, honey!!)
We teared up at the speeches (not all of which were entirely coherent - the best kind!) and prayed fervently with the family that this be the beginning of a long, long life together full of blessings, health and happiness. Please, God.
And the kids?
When we got there, they were both out cold. MasterP in his stroller and MlleL on the floor in a pile of blankets with her big cousin Jman. We carried them to the car and strapped them in and they never woke up. We drove them home and carried them upstairs and put them in their beds and they never woke up. MasterP's first wake up was 5AM, and he went back to sleep until 7:30. MlleL followed at 7, in time to see the balloons fly over the house from the Festival.
Awesome, Awesome, Awesome.
Can we do it again next weekend?
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