Sh-t My Husband Says…

Me: “Chaos, please don’t touch your bum. That’s something you do when you are by yourself.”
K: “And even then it’s a little greasy.”

K: “Chaos, don’t stick out your tongue. In this house we have Nasty Tongue Bugs and they’ll burrow in to your tongue and in to your brain and then you’ll become a vegetable. Do you want that?”
Chaos: “I like vegetables.”

K: “Chaos, stop sticking your fingers in your ears…you’ll pollute your brain.”

Chaos: “Daddy, what are you making?”
K: “Man steak. Cause your Daddy’s a MAN.”
Chaos: “No…I think I’ll just have little girl steak please.”

K: “Chaos, if you don’t stop doing that I’m going to eat all of your dessert from now until you’re ten.”

K: “If you aren’t going to drink coffee this morning can I make man coffee?”
Me: “Man coffee?”
K: “Ya. Real coffee…strong coffee…not that fru fru stuff you drink.”

While assembling the toddler bed…
Me: “Why can’t the bed rail go in to this pre-existing hole in the crib?”
K: “It just can’t. It’ll just sit in there and flop around…like a woman who had too many children.”

Me: “I couldn’t help but notice that you did everyone’s laundry but mine.”
K: “I can’t do your laundry. It’s too complicated. Don’t mix whites and colours. Don’t put reds in with anything but red. Hang certain garments to dry…you can only wash if by the light of a full moon, on a Friday the 13th, in a summer solstice.”

After signing Chaos up for Junior Kindergarten at the school in which I teach…
K: “At the kindergarten open house I am going to say, ‘My wife works here, we should get preferential treatment.'”
Me: *Rolls eyes* “Like what?”
K: “I dunno. Like the best cubby. Not too much or too little sunlight. It should be equal distance from the water fountain and the washroom. I am thinking that kind of thing.”

After watching Dora and Friends: Into the City…
K: Y’kno I’ve been thinking. You know how there’s a kid Dora show where she is poor…and then Dora and Friends where Dora is a tween and super rich?”
Me: “Ya…?”
K: “I have a theory…I think Dora sold her talking monkey to pay for her lavish lifestyle.”

While grocery shopping…
Chaos: “Daddy, I want a chocolate Kinder egg please.”
K: “You don’t want one of those. Do you know where chocolate eggs come from? They come out of the Easter Bunny’s butt.”
Chaos: “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it!”

Chaos: “Daddy, I want to watch an Easter movie.”
K: “When I was your age we didn’t watch movies in the middle of the day. In my house it was ‘go clean up the afterbirth behind that there pig’ on Easter day.”

While watching “The Revenant”…
K: “What was Leo thinking? He should have just Bjorn’d that bear!”

After Anarchy pulled Chaos’ hair and pinched her repeatedly…
K: “Anarchy, stop bullying your big sister. People who have their hair stuck to the boogers on their face don’t have a right to bully anybody.”

While watching James Bond 007: Spectre…
Me: “How can James Bond be in the mood for sex? He just had his ass handed to him by that scary guy who gouges people’s eyes out with his bare hands. You’d think he’d be sore and just call it a day.”
K: “He’s 007. Vagina is his spinach.”

Me: “I think Anarchy has a poopy diaper, can you change her?”
K: “But I have to poop.”
Me: “You always have to poop as soon as I ask you to do something that you do not want to do.”
K: “Like you never use the poop card. Besides, you’re more efficient at changing bums. It’s a routine and you’ve been getting better at it each time. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

While watching the TV show “Vikings”…
K: Today’s episode is “Ragnar Goes On An Acid Trip”…he’s so high. Look at him eating live snakes and paddling the hell out of that imaginary boat.”

  (While watching Netflix’s “Making a Murderer”…)
K: “Man, these people should never play Poker…”
K: “How are Steve’s spirits? Well he just ran out of the potato vodka in his toilet so now he’s out of spirits.”

K: “Chaos, I learned lots of things in college. Like not to mix hard liquor and beer because otherwise your inner Tonto is unleashed and all he wants is his horse and he’ll do anything to get it.”
Me: “Okay, that’s enough life lessons for the three year old.”

Me: “If anything happened to me…would you get married again?”
K: “Hell no! I’m only getting married once. However, I would date a succession of hot younger women and would be a straight up playa. I’d be on Tinderfish or whatever the hell it is.”

K: “One year old birthday parties are okay, but I feel like I need “man” time now. Like take-two-shots-of-whiskey-and-chase-it-with-a-beer-in-a-dirty-glass kind of time.”

Me: “What’s the plan for tonight?”
K: “Well I don’t know about you…but my pants are coming off, the beer is coming out, and I am going to play Fallout all night long.”

K: “Chaos, if you do not stop whining I am going to eat all of your birthday candy.”

K: “I think the doctor needs to check our daughter out due to her excessive stink pickle production.”

(When I had the stomach flu and asked my husband to do the grocery shopping…)
K: “I am a camo clad balding man…how the hell am I supposed to know what dry shampoo is?”

(While watching “The Little Mermaid”…)
K: “And this is the part where Prince Eric is like, “Dang! She learned how to talk!””
K: “And this is the part where Prince Eric is like, “A half naked red head on a rock? Awesome!”

Chaos: “Daddy, will you play Sleeping Beauty with me?”
K: “Only if I can be MANleficent.”

K: “Chaos, don’t drink the bath water.”
Chaos: “Why?”
K: “Because it is the will of the Ori.”
Me: Who the hell are the Ori?”
K: “*Looks at me like I’m an idiot* Fictional characters from Stargate.”

(While Chaos is reading “Bible for Little Hearts” to her Betta fish…)
K: “That’s a good book to read Nemo. He should learn about Jesus because he’s going to meet him way before we do.”

Chaos: “Daddy, I’m going to ride you like a horse!”
K: “No, I’m a MAN.”
Chaos: “No, you’re a HORSE!”
K: “I’m a MAN who invented fire and the wheel, that’s the kind of man I am.”

Me: “Okay ladies and husband, time to go downstairs and eat breakfast!”
Chaos: “He’s not your husband, he’s your Daddy.”
K: “If I was Mommy’s Daddy you would have webbed feet.”

K: “All this going to the gym you better be bringing back a six pack.”
Me: (Feeling slightly bummed…) “You want me to have a six pack?”
K: “Hell yes. And you better put it in the fridge for me too.”

(As he dries off Anarchy after her bath…)
K: “Let’s reenact your birth as you come out of the bath…SPLAT, and there was goop, and viscera, and you looked like a wet Saint Bernard coming out a cat door…you were a funny colour and your head had a weird shape.”
Me: “Okay, that’s enough reenacting…

(While watching the TV show “The Walking Dead”…)
K: “You took my kids baby food? I’ll AK-47 you! That’s how justice is served in the zombie apocalypse bitches!”
K: “Ahhh Morgan. I like him…he sees all. He’s like Sauron except black.”
K: “You haven’t fed your Dad in two days and just ate ten pounds of chocolate pudding you selfish little dick!”

Me: “New recipe tonight babe…crockpot beer can chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli!”
K: “But I only have two cans of beer left…which means you used 50% of the beer in the house…wife fail.”

K: “Captain Brown Snake is reaching critical mass here.”
Chaos: “What?”
K: “My cup of coffee is going to lube everything up and it’ll flow like poop through a goose.”
Chaos: “What?”
K: “Daddy needs to poop.”

K: “What is Chaos watching on TV?”
Me: “Pocahontas.”
K: “Poke her Hontas? Has she got to the part where Timbuktu dies yet?”
Me: “His name is Kocoum actually.”
K: “Close enough…”

(While at Pet Valu…)
K: “Score! The cat’s oral care food is four dollars off. We need that for her tooth.”
Cashier: “You mean teeth?”
K: “No, she has one tooth. She’s pretty inbred.”

Me: “Chaos, stop whining please…you have nothing to be upset about.”
K: “Well, actually there is plenty for her to be upset about: ISIS, world hunger, war, famine, disease…I haven’t shot a deer yet.”

(While watching Back To The Future…)
K: “Marty’s problem is simple…to avoid his mother being attracted to him he just needs to sleep with one of her friends.”
Me: “What about his girlfriend?”
K: “It’s not like he cheated…it was thirty years before she was born.”
Me: “You better not invent time travel…”

(After yet another unsuccessful day of potty training…)
Chaos: “Daddy, can you read me a story?”
K: “Sure, it’s called “The Little Girl Who Refused To Use The Crapper”.”

K: “You know T, after watching Disney movies I’ve decided our daughter is kind of like Cinderella. She’ll only be allowed to stay out until midnight and then the spell will be broken…and by spell I mean her boyfriend’s face…and rather than a wand I’ll have my over-under shotgun.”

K: “It’s okay that Alcide died in tonight’s episode of True Blood because you already have a husband at home who looks like that without his shirt on.”

(To our daughter)
K: “Chaos, don’t lay on the dog bed! Cause if you lay there too long you’ll turn into a big stinky dog and have to clean your bum with your own tongue because that is what big stinky dogs do. Now you don’t want that to happen to you do you?”

K: “Game of Thrones has good life lessons. For example, I learned from the Game of Thrones season finale that it is important not to keep loaded crossbows near your shitter.”

K: “This scotch smells so good…it’s like God’s vagina.”
Me: “I don’t even know how to respond to that…but you’re definitely not sitting on the couch with me anymore.”

K: “Happy anniversary Tits Magee.”
K: “Happy anniversary Boobzilla.”

(In an effort to deter our child from breaking her toys and/or wrecking the floor…)
K: “Chaos, every time you smash your toys against the floor a baby bunny rabbit dies.”

(In an effort to try and get me “in the mood”…)
K: “I like your boobs. *Insert two second pause* So, you wanna?”

K: “I can’t believe you threw out my boxers!”
Me: “Um, they were rags hanging on an elastic. They didn’t even cover your bird anymore!”
K: “They were AWESOME okay? They were like tear aways for underpants!”

K: “You had a bad evening…why don’t you watch your “Dipshit Girls”?”
Me: “You mean “Gilmore Girls”?”
K: “Same thing.”

(While watching Cinderella…)
K: “Man, this guy has it made. All he has to do is pick a woman and say ‘Hey you, would you like some royal seed?'”

K: “I can see your nipples through your tank top. It makes it difficult for me to concentrate on what you’re saying.”

K: “I love your boobs…they’re the best part of living with you.” After seeing the look of disgust on my face he quickly adds: “Oh, and your sparkling personality.”

K: “You look so tired babe…you should go to bed and get some rest. Oh, and I kinda want to watch Battlestar Galactica.”

K: “You buying all these flowers is really blowing through the beer budget…priorities T.”

K: “I need to wash my jeans more than once every two weeks…my thighs are getting itchy.”

(K verbally shames our dog, Nero, every time he jumps at a loud noise during holiday weekends. The highlight reel…) 
K: “They’re only fireworks you big pile of dumb!”
K: “They’re only fireworks you big hairy vagina!”
K: “They’re only fireworks you big tub of stupid!”

(After working from home all morning…)
K: “Well T that’s why I get paid the mediocre bucks!”

(K was BBQing some venison steaks…)
Neighbour: “Smells great!”
K: “Welcome to Terminus! Can I fix you a plate?”

K: “You know when I come to bed and you are already asleep you look like Grendel from Beowulf.”

K: “When you ask me to walk with you in the evening I feel like Ghandi…except I’m the wrong kind of Indian and way too fat.”

K: “Woman, beer me! Oh wait you already did…you get a gold star!”

(When playing “Titanfall” on the Xbox One…)
K: “Damn I got grenaded…that totally ruined my Friday!”

K: “Nero, you’re a good dog. With the exception of all your shortcomings, of which there are many.”

(When watching the movie “Gravity” for the first time…)
K: “If this movie has taught me anything it’s that escape pods from the space station should have a “get me the fuck out of here button”.”

(K and his buddy Jeff came up with a recipe for cooking the fish that they caught on their annual fishing trip up North…)
“Beat some eggs…three or so. More if you have lots of fish. Mix a touch of milk to that. Not very much. If you add the milk and it becomes too runny add another egg. The amount of milk added and the manner in which this is performed is excruciatingly critical. The milk makes the egg less “lumpy”? but too much will thin it and it will not coat the fish well. You must wear a camo hat or a green khaki piece of clothing for optimal results. Having an open beer in the room will help ease the spirits of the deceased fishes. This will re-affirm to them that yes, it was a hard as nails, sh-t-cool guy that caught them and is about to return them to the earth. This will lighten the atmosphere and make for a more enjoyable meal. NOTE: alcohol free beer will not have this effect. If you do not have alcohol, cannabis may be used as a substitute. Add three hours to prep time. Add fish to egg/milk and mix or let sit a couple minutes. Take fish from batter (one or two pieces a time) and quickly coat with bread crumbs. Coat well. Use Italian seasoning.”

K: “There is nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to clean a fish.”

(Watching the TV show “Toupie et Bino” with our daughter…)
K: “How is this show possibly educational for children? The fish is wearing a boot and playing a tuba!”

 (After seeing my Costco impulse buy, a red shag carpet…)
K: “Our living room looks like the set of a bad 70s porno flick. Hey, I’m a plumber baby. Mind if I use my snake to clean your pipes?”

(After I started to complain to K that my breasts hurt because I still had some breast milk left in my breasts as I weaned our daughter)
K: “Aw, do you need to be milked? Cause I gotta tell you I’m not really into that.”

(Discussion as we searched for a new vet clinic in the area we moved to…)
K: “Make sure you get a quote.”
Me: “Babe, it’s not like buying a car…it’s yearly vaccination shots…the prices are what they are.”
K: “Well then tell them if we have to choose to give the dog his shots because we don’t really like the cat anyways.”

K: “Did you pick up more beer?”
Me: “No.”
K: “I’m pretty sure this was why Brad and Angelina broke up.”

K: “Holy, your electrical bill was $400!”
Me: “My electrical bill?”
K: “Yes. You and your ‘round the clock’ air conditioning. When I was a kid we used to have to take turns pedaling a bike attached to a generator to get electrical power in the house. We had to pedal very fast.”

(As Chaos was making made up words…)
K: “Stop talking like that…or we’re going to have to have you tested.”

 

(After Chaos peed her pants on purpose when I made her have a timeout in her bedroom…)
K: When your mother asks you to go to your bedroom because you pushed your sister, you DO NOT rage pee in your pants. You don’t want to be ‘that kid.’ When Daddy was in Grade 4 a girl peed her pants at school and they called her Pee Pants and shamed her until she eventually left the school. Well, she left when she graduated Grade 12…but still. Pee Pants. Shame. Think about that.”

(As Chaos had a meltdown at bath time…)
K: “Chaos, the sound you just made was the same sound I heard dying cow lying in a tractor hole making today. Are you a dying cow lying in a tractor hole?”
Chaos: “I AM NOT A DYING COW LYING IN A TRACTOR HOLE!”
K: “Well you sound like one.”

(At 5:30 A.M. when our girls decided it was time to wake up and jump on us as we slept…)
K: “Girls, stop jumping on me while I’m in bed…you almost crushed Daddy’s twig and berries.”

Chaos: “I want my raaaaaincoat!”
Me: “You outgrew it love. I’m sorry.”
K: “Chaos, stop whining. When I was growing up it was ‘wear that there garbage bag over your head’ when I needed a raincoat. On really rough days we used mother’s tampons to dry ourselves off when it rained.”

K: “The trick to a successful ice fishing trip is to get really drunk. Not passed out…but almost…just sober enough to have enough fine motor control to reel them in nice and slow. That’s when the fish bite because they sense your weakness.”

(After watching the TV show Ghost Adventures…)
K: “I’m going to start my own Ghost Adventures…but I’ll need to start working out more and get a douche-y haircut.”

K: “I told Chaos that she better start listening to her mother. Otherwise karma will get her and in her next life she’ll come back as butt fungus.”
Me: “Don’t tell her that! Besides, there’s no way that would happen.”
K: “Be careful…disbelievers come back as weiner rings.”
Me: “Reincarnation only applies to living things actually. FYI.”
K: “Well then maybe you’ll come back as gonorrhea…which is a virus and technically a living thing.”

K: “Every time I look in the yard, I see that broken half dead tree that you wanted to plant in the front yard but I convinced you to put it in the back yard. It’s the ‘Daddy is Always Right’ tree.”

K: “What the hell are these?”
Me: “Omega 3 eggs…they’re healthy.”
K: “Okay, well how many of these organically grown free run chicken eggs do you want? Don’t tell me you’re turning in to one of those “I’m gonna save the world by wearing hemp clothes made in Taiwan” hippies that want to hug a tree.”
Me: “…One egg is just fine.”

K: “For your parents anniversary I’m going to make my own steak marinade. I’m going to call it, ‘K’s No Little Bitches Marinade: Made For Men by The Man.’ The only thing that would have made this marinade more manly is if I made it with no pants on, while drinking whiskey, and punching a kangaroo in the face.”

(While listening to “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls…”)
K: “You know girls, this was Daddy’s ‘go to’ make out song in highschool. He used it to his advantage…once.”

K: “Chaos, in the middle of the night you’re about as stealthy as a drunk cow.”

(After reading an article where a man passed away and had ordered birthday flowers for his wife for the next forty years…)
Me: “I dunno, I think it would make me more sad than anything else – a reminder that you are no longer there, y’kno?”
K: “You are dead inside. Well I guess when I’m dead I’ll ask to be buried with all of our shit so you are not reminded of me. Hell burn down the house too!”
Me: “That might be a slight over reaction.”
K: “Over reaction? I sent you flowers from beyond the grave and you don’t even care. Ghost flowers as it were. Deal with it.”

K: “You know that every time I transfer money in to your bank account I feel like a pimp.”
Me: “Why on earth would you feel like a pimp?”
K: “I be giving my hoe some cheddar yo!”
Me: “I see. Let’s not talk anymore today.”

 (While reading articles on the internet…)
K: “A pop-up add for hot Russian women looking to hook up? How can I not click on that?”
K: “A pop-up for mail order brides? How can I not click on that?”
K: “A pop-up for frisky Asian chicks? How can I not click on that?”

(Anarchy was trying to get in to the bathroom while I was in there…)
K: “Don’t go in there Anarchy. No one is in there. That’s just where the stink is.”
Chaos: “Actually Mommy is just squeezing out a log.”

K: “You have to eat your broccoli before you can have ice cream.”
Chaos: “I can’t do that by myself!”
K: “You can do anything you set your mind to. But if you can’t do this…wow…”

 

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Family Outings…

So last week my husband was on vacation. It was glorious. I got to sleep in until 6:30 every morning because there was no mad rush for me to shower before he left for work — (side note — if I do not shower before he leaves for work I usually don’t get one as it requires me to leave 1 1/2 and 3 1/2 year old children unattended for five minutes…the last time that happened they painted the walls with my $47 Clinique BB Cream and Mommy had a good cry…but I digress). So after a few days of vacation the hubby and I were lulled in to a false sense of security. We got this parenting gig under control. Nailed it actually. We should take the kids on an adventure!

So my husband looked up Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada. The attraction boasted 5.7 million liters of water, 135 000 square feet of interactive aquariums, and 16 000 marine animals. After emptying our bank accounts (we really only plan to send our favourite to college anyways) we had tickets in hand and were bound for the big city with two kids in tow. The journey there was uneventful…Chaos played math games on the tablet and Anarchy slept for most of the ride.

As soon as we got there it took us approximately 2.5 seconds to realize our mistakes.

Mistake #1: Under no circumstances should you take a stroller in to an underground plastic tube with hundreds of people. I literally spent the entire time saying, “I’m sorry…oops sorry…I didn’t meant to bump in to you…oh, sorry!” and having people glare at me.

Mistake #2:  Under no circumstances should you take a child young enough to require a stroller in to an underground plastic tube with hundreds of people. In theory, Anarchy would sit in the stroller while I pushed and the hubby would keep tabs on Chaos. This theory did not pan out and Anarchy spent most of the time wailing and pushing at the restraints because she wanted to see the “FISH!!!!!!!!!! FISH!!!!!!!!!!” I ended up pushing an empty stroller while my husband tried frantically to hold on to our kids’ hands.

Mistake #3: Under no circumstances should you pack chocolate chip granola bars when your children will be eating them in semi-darkness. The attraction itself has illuminated tanks…but there is little in the way of lighting in the tubes…which meant that my children consumed granola bars with their sweaty hands (why are children always sweaty?) and ended up covered head to toe in chocolate. I did my best with the wipes…but we all, husband and myself included, ultimately ended up emerging from the attraction covered in chocolate.

bruce

Mistake #4: Under no circumstances should you promise your three year old a hot-dog for lunch. Due to the fact that we try to avoid “junk food” in our house…Chaos has only eaten two hot-dogs in her entire life. Well, we promised her a hot-dog as we entered the attraction…and she spent the following two-and-a-half hours, and some of the drive home, asking, “Where is my hot-dog? Do I get a hot-dog, Daddy? Can I get a hot-dog Mommy? I can’t see my hot-dog Daddy, where is it? Is it time for my hot-dog now?” By the time we left Ripley’s Aquarium I had developed a small twitch in my eye.

eye twitch

Mistake #5: Under no circumstances should you think you have the slightest idea what will actually thrill and amaze your child. When we purchased the tickets we were blown away by the idea of having 16 000 species of marine animals in front of our children. Anarchy spent most of the time shouting “FISH!!!!!!” at every thing she saw in the aquarium…including the garbage can in the washroom. Chaos noticed an orange plastic slide near the exit of the attraction and, with the exception of asking about the aforementioned hot-dog, spent the entire time asking when she was going to ride the slide. We spent a small fortune for our daughter to ride a slide. For the record…we have one in our back yard.

Mistake #6: Under no circumstances should you let your daughter ride an orange plastic slide which branches off in to five separate exits in to an enormous crowd of people. My husband and I spent three turns running to each exit and praying we found our child before she vanished in to the crowd. We did. Success!

dancing hot dog.gif

After we left Ripley’s Aquarium, we stopped at Harvey’s. Chaos did get her hot-dog and danced a jig, Anarchy ate a bite out of each french fry and loudly said “No” and put each half-eaten piece back, and Mommy and Daddy looked approximately two decades older than when we left that morning.

Milky Sperm

Today, Chaos and I were reading a book called “Swimmer” which is a Native Canadian story that chronicles the journey of Swimmer, a salmon, from her birth to death. It is a longer children’s book and includes interesting facts about wildlife and Native culture throughout the story. 

At the end the author briefly writes about how Swimmer leaves her eggs as part of an ancient instinct to return to the place of her birth and reproduce. The male salmon then drops a cloud of “milky sperm” on to them to fertilize them. Then Swimmer dies and “lives on” through her children as part of the circle of life. *Note to self: In the future if you want to teach your child about the circle of life, just have her watch the bloody Lion King*…no one says “milky sperm” in the Lion King. The only thing Simba does is roll around with Nala in the grass while Elton John croons a love song about magic in the air.

Chaos could have been fascinated by the pages talking about the Orca, or the beautiful images of Belugas swimming in the ocean. No. She gets the phrase “milky sperm” out of that wholebook and decides to start saying it as if she’s a broken record as she plays around the house. Play with princess castle? Milky sperm. Paint a picture? Milky sperm. Cuddle with her Elsa doll? Milky sperm. 

I told her to not say it once. Afterwards I did not tell her to stop saying it every time it came out of her mouth knowing full well if I did that it would make her want to say it more — I am convinced this is prep work for being a teenager when she will do everything that I insist she not do just to drive me batsh*t crazy. Everything I have read in parenting books says to ignore, ignore, ignore. Ignore and she will lose interest. 

Screw the parenting books. Screw ALL the parenting books. I should have told her to stop.

Chaos proceeded to say it wherever we went today which included the bank, Tim Horton’s, on our walk to the unsuspecting elderly woman we encountered — “Hello!”…”Milky sperm!”, and the grocery store. Do you know how many disapproving looks you get in a grocery store when your nearly three year old child keeps saying “milky sperm” over and over? Eight. The answer is eight.

  

Kids Are a Blessing…Until You Have To Attend a Wedding

Having kids is a blessing from God…until you have to attend a wedding. There. I said it. Now before you tell me I am a horrible mother and should be left hog-tied in the woods covered in honey in grizzly country….allow me to explain.

Reason #1: So my husband’s brother, Uncle J, got married a few weekends ago and my oldest daughter, Chaos, was asked to be the flower girl. D’awwww. During the rehearsal dinner she walked, ran, danced down the aisle with a smile on her perfect little face. The day of the wedding she looked the part: Hair done for the bargain price of a bi-weekly car payment (though I should not complain because if I had been responsible for doing Chaos’ hair she would have walked down the aisle looking like a character from the Muppet’s), cute little dress with extra crinoline, shoes that I wish they made in my size, beautiful bouquet, gorgeous necklace courtesy of Uncle J and Auntie A…and yet she would not walk down that aisle and ended up being carried by the bride’s pregnant sister and MOH. I contemplated jumping off the cliff to drown in Lake Erie I was so embarrassed.

Reason #2: We planned to get ready at the bride’s parents house and the drive was around two hours — which would normally be no big deal, but with two children it felt like I had been thrown into an Olympic event with no training. I woke up at 5:00 A.M. and spent the following two hours running around like a maniac: trying to shove healthy breakfast down my toddler’s craw whilst screeching like a drill sergeant, “EAT! We have to leave in 30 minutes. EAT! We have to leave in 15 minutes. EAT! WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN 5 SECONDS! GO! GO! GO! GO!,” trying to blow dry my hair while breastfeeding an infant who has been using my nipples as a human teething ring, throwing everything we own into a suitcase because we were spending the night at a hotel (and who knows what the heck we’d end up needing). My husband stayed back because he wanted to get ready at our house and would meet us at the wedding. Spent the entire two hours drive listening to Anarchy screaming like a banshee and Chaos asking, “Are we there yet Mommy?” every two seconds. Every. two. seconds.

Reason #3: We show up at the bride’s parents farm — which looks like it should be the next HGTV Dream Home…even their corn stalks were perfectly lined with not a husk on the ground!…I can’t even organize a cutlery drawer, but I digress — and the fart that I heard coming from Anarchy’s direction at the beginning of the drive turned out to be a shart. What is a “shart“? Well it’s a cross between a fart and a sh…well you get the idea. This shart was epic and all up her back — completely destroying the beautiful little outfit I had for her. So my sister-in-law to be answers the door of this stunning home to a sweaty, panting woman holding her infant daughter at arms length asking for a tiled surface to lay her down on — and perhaps a hose of some kind — along with a toddler who is jumping up and down with such excitement because today is the day that she “gets to marry Uncle J!” (she did not totally understand the concept of a “flower girl”). Tomorrow’s lesson: Incest: Why You Can’t Marry Your Uncle and Other Scenarios. 

Reason #4: We spent the entire reception, speeches, and dinner trying to keep Chaos from tripping unsuspecting waiters and waitresses as she danced between the tables, and trying to keep a ten-month-old entertained armed with nothing but an apple puree and a boob that, fortunately, is saggy enough that I can throw it under the skirt of my dress to nurse her. We lasted from 6:00-7:30 P.M. before surrendering to our little terrorists and taking the kids upstairs to the hotel room. Anarchy immediately fell asleep and I spent the next three hours trying to get Chaos to stop jumping on the bed and rubbing her face all over me. My husband got to stay downstairs and drink whiskey…someone got the poopy end of that stick. By the time he got upstairs at 10:30 P.M. I was contemplating drinking the Listerine we brought because I was at my wits end and in need of a stiff drink. Finally, Chaos passed out from exhaustion and Anarchy promptly woke up and spent the rest of the evening awake and screaming. My husband and I slept for a grand total of two hours that night. The next morning we looked worse than that time we drank drinks called “Broken Down Golf Carts” at a seedy bar in Lindsay (where my husband attended college) and woke up wearing each other’s tee shirts.

Reason #5My youngest daughter, Anarchy, decided to choose the prayer before dinner to begin growling like she was auditioning for an episode of The Walking Dead. Fortunately, we got away with it by explained to everyone that our ten month old was going through a rebellious phase where she despised organized religion…they completely bought it…

Reason #6: We weren’t able to eat more than two bites of anything on account of our little hooligans. The silver lining? I lost 5 pounds in a weekend…I call it the Chaos and Anarchy diet.

  

Potty Training Chronicles: The Day my Daughter Used the Stairs as a Toilet

We have been potty training Chaos since December — yes, your fast math is correct, that would be ten months. TEN MONTHS. TEN. MONTHS. If I have to hear one more parent tell me that they successfully potty trained their child in a weekend I may go postal.

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Chaos wants desperately to be like her infant sister, Anarchy, and has made the conscious decision to continue to sh*t herself at every opportunity. I say “conscious decision” because she is a brightand precocious  toddler and definitely understands that she has to use the potty. Some days she would use it regularly  on occasion to really mess with our heads. Other days she would flat out refuse to acknowledge that she had gone which led to us running around trying to sniff her bum to determine if she was lying to us — which she usually was.


I never thought my husband and I would be the kind of people running around with our noses  a few inches from another human being’s sphincter — oh how the mighty have fallen. Every time we caught her with a poopy bum she would smile up at us sweetly and ask, “Are you happy?”

A few days ago I made the decision to take the control away from her by removing the diaper from the equation…in fact I even removed underwear from the equation figuring that without a poo catcher she would have to use the potty. Bingo! She used her potty all day without a single accident. Once I was even vacuuming and she came up to me and announced she had pooped in her potty…she was just in the middle of playing and decided to use her potty.

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After a few days of successful poopage and peeage I was on cloud 9. I am convinced it was a high that can not be duplicated by alcohol or any street drug — my child was pooping in her potty. My kid! MINE! All those other mommies bragging about their prodigy child who came out of the womb asking for a potty can stick it!


When my husband got home from work I was gushing about Chaos and the glory that was her poop in the toilet — you would have thought the child solved world hunger or something the way I went on about it. As I am talking to him Chaos comes up behind him and promptly bites him on the ass hard enough that she left a mark through two layers of clothing. After scolding her he sat her down on the bottom step in our front entry way for a “time out.” After screaming like we had shoved bamboo chutes up her fingernails she suddenly became quiet. Too quiet. As we peeked around the corner we heard a little voice say, “Mommy, I peed…are you happy?” as she squatted over a puddle of urine on the step with a smile on her face.

Fark!

You win some you lose some…

The Swan Princess

I recently went on Amazon and purchased some old childhood favourite films for the girls. Among them were such gems as Fly Away HomeAn American TailThe Land Before TimeThumbelinaThe Secret of NIHMand The Swan Princess.

The Swan Princess was one of my favourite movies as a kid and, to be honest, I had not seen it since the mid 90’s so I had no idea whether “adult” me would be just as keen on the film…but I figured I’d give it a whirl because Chaos has been fixated on princess’ lately. Furthermore, I am getting exhausted of the Disney princess films that we seem to watch ad nauseam. I think that I appreciated the humour in The Swan Princess more now than I did when I was younger. The jokes geared towards an older audience are hysterical.

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However, I have to admit that there are blatant problems with the story that I simply could not suspend reality enough to ignore:

  1. Who and where is Odette’s mother? In the scene where she is born the King is simply handed the child by a midwife in the hallway and then holds her up on a balcony as the people of his kingdom cheer. For all we know he banged one of his maids and Odette is a bastard child. Perhaps her mother died in childbirth…but the lack of emotion by the King is so disturbing that I kind of prefer the “banged the maid” theory. Odette’s mother is not mentioned at all for the remainder of the film.
  2. Why does Lord Rothbart just take over the kingdom if he is such a powerful sorcerer? Why does he insist on marrying Odette in a legitimate ceremony? Oh right, because a sorcerer who changes into a gigantic bat/wolf/thing would be really concerned with legitimately becoming king by marrying the only heir to the throne thus abiding by the laws of the kingdom.
  3. Why is the mortally wounded King so vague when Prince Derek finds him? He would have clearly recognized Lord Rothbart. Why not say, “Hey, Lord Rothbart changed in to this huge animal in front of my eyes and attacked us! Avenge me and find my daughter!” Instead he rambles on for five minutes about “a great animal” that “is not what it seems” and then dies without giving any useful information at all. 
  4. Why, why, why does Odette give two sh*ts about this shallow Prince who hates her for their entire childhood; then sees her once she becomes smoking hot as “wife material”?  Not to mention he actually point blank tells her that he wants to be with her because she is beautiful and “What else is there?” Not to mention he declares his love to the wrong woman which nearly kills her. Not to mention he leaves the bow, his only weapon, behind after discovering Odette is being held captive which causes Lord Rothbart to know he was there. The only reason he slays Lord Bat/WolfThing is because Odette’s animal friends swim to the bottom of the lake and retrieve his bow. Basically, Prince Derek is a tool.

Gah! Kids films. If only I were eight years old again and did not care about problems with scripts…


Four Year Anniversary

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So my husband and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary on June 25th. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. Butterflies in my stomach as I put my wedding dress on. My knees shaking as my father walked me up the aisle. Crying as we said, “I take you to be my husband/wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honour you all the days of my life.”

As I watched our wedding video I once again marveled at how fast the time has gone. We have been together as a couple for eleven years and married for four — holy guacamole! It seems like just yesterday we were those eighteen year old kids eating Doritos for breakfast, paddling out into the wilderness of Algonquin with packs that weighed as much as us, bar hopping in Lindsay where my husband went to college…and now here we are…married with two children and living out our “happily ever after.”

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After all this time how did we celebrate? I bought him a muskie fishing rod and we went to see “Jurassic World” (at 3:00 P.M. mind you because we had to be back in time for me to make dinner for Chaos, nurse Anarchy and put both our girls to bed). You can not beat an anniversary that includes Chris Pratt leading a pack of Velociraptors on a motorcycle. We then shared a bottle of wine that he bought during a company dinner at Burning Kiln Winery and fell asleep by 10:30 P.M.

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This married couple lives life on the edge…

Here’s to the rest of our lives babe!

OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES!Blogging Univ. Writing 101 Day 12

Love this blog post! Kids say the funniest things!

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OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES!

Ah kid’s say the darnedest things don’t they? When first born, they’re so cute, and seemingly innocent! Such as this adorable bundle of joy pictured above! Just breathtaking!

That is until you’re gasping for air because of something they’ve said that made you want to crawl underneath the nearest chair and hide!

My mom said I had a knack for such moments (je vous demande pardon)! That’s Google French for ‘I beg your pardon’ by the way. So on this particular shiny Sunday afternoon, I was so proud of the tooth I had lost and the shiny new quarter I got in return. I was six years old and becoming a big girl!
Mommy stood outside of the church after service talking to *Deacon Bartholomew. They were going on and on about how glorious a day it was! Well when he smiled a huge…

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The Time My Family Got The Plague…And Updates

So it has been roughly three months since my last blog post. The wheels fell off the writing bus around the time my home became an incubus of viral plague — namely Chaos had double pneumonia, Anarchy had bronchiolitis and dangerously low oxygen levels, I had a sinus infection and was quite possibly the sickest I had ever been in my adult life…and my husband was not sick at all because he was, and is, a freak of nature with the immune system of a cockroach.   

Getting antibiotics into a toddler is Impossible with a capital “I.” My husband and I tried everything from sneaking one millilitre (of her four millilitres three times a day dose) into large amounts of ice cream/applesauce/ANYTHING to holding her down and attempting to force it down her throat…nothing worked and usually mother and daughter ended up crying. Eventually she started to feel better so some of the antibiotics must have made their way into her system somehow… 

Poor Anarchy wound up hospitalized for three days at five months old due to difficulty breathing. Scariest. Thing. Ever. I stayed by her bedside night and day while my husband stayed home with Chaos. I managed to hold it together reasonably well until the team of doctors brought in resuscitation gear “just in case” and moved her to isolation because of her condition…at which point I cried like I have never cried in my life. Finally she started to feel better and we were permitted to go home. 

After that I just sort of got caught up with life — in a good way. Nice weather means tons of playdates, swimming at Nana and Papa’s, visiting Grandma and Grandpa’s farm, trips to the park, backyard games.  

In other news: I was declared surplus from my school — which basically meant that student enrolment was down and my school was losing two teachers. Unfortunately, with my low seniority ranking at the school it meant I was one of the first positions on the chopping block. In the beginning I was very upset as I had been at the school for four wonderful years and the staff and community had become like family to me. However, I am a big believer that everything happens for a reason. The positive side of the situation was that I could interview at other schools within the school board and look at teaching closer to home. I had two interviews and secured a position at a new school in a new division for when I return from my maternity leave — in the community in which I live no less, which is super exciting!  

I have also started going to the gym regularly, 3-5 times a week, after my girls are asleep after the month or so I stopped going when the girls and I were sick. I am finally starting to see some results which is wonderful. Imagine that, I actually have arm muscles and thigh muscles. I have also started drinking “green drinks” which, as disgusting as they look, actually do not taste half bad and leave me feeling reenergized. Yay for tricking my body into thinking it likes kale and spinach!

Presentable Children and Personal Hygiene

So I have come to the conclusion that having presentable children and personal hygiene is impossible…at least when you have anywhere to drop your child (or children) off before 9:00 a.m. 

This morning Chaos had playgroup at the community centre in our little town. It’s perfect for both of us — I get a quiet coffee and play time with Anarchy…and Chaos gets to play with other kids, make a craft, and run around screaming with two other adults with ECE diplomas desperately chasing after her — win win really.

I had been up most of the night with a teething baby and forgot to set my alarm.

So Chaos woke up at 7:30 a.m. by laying on her back and kicking her feet against the wall with such force that it felt as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped in our master bedroom. I shot out of bed so disoriented I fell on the cat who was sleeping on the bedroom floor beside the bed. She bit me in the arm. 

I went into Chaos’ room and wrestled her into a cute little jumper with stockings — after a toddler meltdown because she wanted to wear a white dress she saw hanging in her closet. White dresses are not suitable for playgroup on account of they get covered in everything…why the eff do they even make white clothing for children? 

By 7:45 a.m. I had her in her outfit and had french braided her hair. If I don’t do some sort of hairstyle for her she ends up looking like a Jim Hensen puppet.

By 8:00 a.m. we made it downstairs and I made her a nutritious breakfast — oatmeal with honey, slices of pear, and a slice of whole wheat bread with peanut butter — which she actually ate.  Hallelujah! It’s a Thursday miracle!

By 8:30 a.m. I needed a hose to get the aforementioned breakfast off of her…she even had it in her ears. 

By 8:45 a.m. I was nursing her sister, Anarchy, with one saggy boob thrown in the carseat whilst I frantically tried to put together a snack for playgroup. 

By 8:55 a.m. I was in panic mode and had Anarchy buckled into her carseat and was charging to the van with Chaos under one arm screaming, “Mommy, I want the Elsa book! Mommy noooooo!” (We have about one hundred million Elsa books and there was no way to find the precise one she wanted and get to playgroup across town in five minutes. Sacrifices were made). I compromised by letting her play with the dancing brochure for her class in the fall…she responded by   turning it into confetti before we reached our destination — Oh well, I needed to clean the van at some point anyways.

We made it there at exactly 9:00 a.m. I dropped Chaos off at playgroup and noticed the lady at the front desk do a double take when she saw me — but I was a lady on a mission and had no time to think about it. Gave Chaos a quick hug and kiss and headed home with Anarchy.

As soon as I got home Anarchy was sleeping blissfully in the carseat so I went to our mainfloor washroom to assess the damage…oh. Holy. Jesus. In my haste to get the kids fed and where they needed to be I had left the house looking positively homeless. I had neglected to brush my hair which now looked so greasy and dishevelled I half expected racist Disney characters to emerge from it singing about life on the bayou. I had also forgotten to take off my mascara the night before when I had collapsed in to bed and now my eyes looked sunken in…much like a corpse (although I do not want to insult the dead as I am sure they even looked and smelled better than me this morning). I had also forgotten to put on deodorant…which in my defense was tucked away in a drawer and not in plain view — easy to miss when you are going a million miles an hour first thing in the morning. Oh and my unbrushed teeth actually felt fuzzy. Fuzzy. Somehow in my disoriented state I had also managed to put on the clothes I used to paint furniture yesterday…so I was covered in paint, dust and a small amount of baby vomit (because evidently Anarchy did not think I smelled bad enough this morning).

At least my children look presentable…