28 June 2009
22 June 2009
Anyway, so this episode was supposed to be "The BIG Announcement". Drum roll please...
Jon & Kate are getting divorced. Really? That's the big announcement? In other BIG news, George Michael is still gay, brown is the new black and the economy is suffering - don't all gasp at once.
Now, I could be wrong, but does Jon have the capability of becoming a complete jerkwad? What's with the earrings circa 1983? Those have got to be new. He's also looking more GQ lately (they've both had make overs...nice new boobies!). And why apartment hunt in NYC - why not in Wernersville? I do admit it's incredibly sad I know where they live.
The episode was incredibly heart wrenching, as divorce should be. There was just something about Jon that was off. He checked out of the whole show at the end of last season & you can just tell he's loathing every moment of filming, but that's not it. It's almost like his new found freedom is allowing him to find his inner douche.
Hmmm, Kate is Kate. She's handling it in Kate fashion, still the victim. I think there is way more going on behind the scenes that we don't know about. Not that I need Jon to admit he's been poking a college girl, there's just something very icky about how he's handling himself now.
They should both be in counselling. Kate needs to find a way to chill & not be quite so damn shrill. Jon needs to learn that having balls does not equal turning into a frat boy.
The Trending Topics on Twitter are currently;
- Jon & Kate
- Iran Election
Ouch. Talk about Reality TV! I'm waiting for the "Real Housewives of Afghanistan" myself, Kate can go there for a while - that's must see TV!
And remember when Jon & Kate talked about God? Where did He go? Not enough room for Him in the big, new house?
Personally, I think there's still something salvageable in the relationship. They need to stop selling out - Jon doesn't need a BMW and Kate doesn't need to keep the boobs quite so perky. The show needs to end. But, what do I know?
Elvis sold his soul & was crowned King.
13 June 2009
My parents are Statler & Waldorf.
I am trying to mentally prepare myself for the impending arrival. They live only a short 3 hour drive away. An improvement from when I lived in California, a border between us was necessary for a while, but I did miss them. So when I returned to Canada, I decided that moving back to their city was not a good idea, but 3 hours was a perfectly reasonable distance. Oh yeah, and no guest room equals a hotel stay for S&W, so that gives us breaks during the visit too.
Baby Apostle - 4 days old
Me - still fat
Waldorf (Dad) - wanting to know when I was going to loose the baby weight. "How long do you think it will take you? 4 weeks, 5 weeks or 6 weeks?" Hmmm, awkward much? The Baby Apostle will be 7 weeks old tomorrow & I don't think I've lost an ounce. I intend on discussing his penis size should he bring up the subject this weekend.
It's like being forced to watch the birth of someone you know via some dude's Daddy-Cam. Too shocking to speak & too awkward to look away.
Dad also enjoys guessing strangers names based on their ethnicity. Fun times.
Now for Statler (Mom). I clean like a maniac before they arrive, which was easier before the kidlets arrived, but I'll still do it if it means I only get an hour of sleep the night before. I'd like to think that my home is clean, perhaps untidy at times, but at least clean. I work hard to try to maintain my goal of having a home that is always 15 minutes away from being "company ready".
That been said, I can be a little Monica Geller about cleaning too. I believe it's due to the fact that Statler instilled the fear that if I didn't keep a clean home, body, life, mind and soul that a place would be reserved for me in the Ninth Circle of Hell.
Here's how our last visit went...
Baby Apostle - 4 days old
Me - Still slightly high off the endorphins of having a wonderful drug free home birth with zero complications.
Statler (Mom) - "You let Music Man stay with you when you delivered?". Um, yeah. Apparently when our daughter was born (in a hospital) it was okay for him to stay with me, but having Music Man stay with me while I had our son at home, put childbirth in a whole other realm of yucky. I dunno. I can assure you, Music Man being present was the least yucky part of the whole day!
That's enough of Statler & Waldorf for today. I have stories that would make you spray your beverage of choice across your monitor, but we're just getting to know each other & you really need to be introduced gradually to these two.
12 June 2009
George Michael. Sweet, sweet heavens, I love this man like a crack whore loves a pipe. From "Everything She Wants" - pure cotton candy goodness to the entire "Songs of a Century" album. He's a musical genius the likes of Stevie Wonder and no one will convince me otherwise. Thank you to the Music Man for making my dream of seeing George come true - from the front row."Road House", "Dirty Dancing" & "North & South" mini series. Now, you may ask "why doesn't she just say 'Patrick Swayze movies'"? Well, I love Patrick, but let's face it, "Three Wishes" looked terrible, I wasn't a huge fan of "Ghost" either. These are the best of the best of Patrick.
Scrapbooking. Want to remember the big moments in life? Better yet...want to remember the totally horrendous grad dress? Scrapbook. As I have moved my "work space" to our bedroom I had to scale back my supplies to the bare minimum required to facilitate my addiction. Being a Consultant for Creative Memories isn't helping the surplus either, but I love it. And, you can fuel your addiction at http://www.lastalifetime.ca/.
Male movie stars around the age of 18-ish. I don't know what to tell you, the Mrs. Robinson in me? Zac Efron just makes my pink parts happy.
Home shopping. LOVE to order something online & await its arrival. LOVE http://www.theshoppingchannel.com/.
Pepsi. Hands down the better cola. However, if it's a slurpee, then it has to be coke. Either go well with Rum.
Disney. I lived in Southern California for a while after high school & was a Disney fan before the move. Going to Disneyland made me a Disney loser forever. I cry during the parades, I wait too long for rides, I pay way too much money for a Churro, but damn it's a good day when you wake up in Disneyland!
Sleep. Wife + mother = no sleep or time to myself. When I can get either of those things, I'm giddy like Corey Haim on another reality show.
Baking or cooking. Long, uninterrupted baking sessions of just me & the mix master. I have a copy of the Joy of Cooking & I use it.
I am a love junkie. I love to be touched, I love sappy movies, I love being gross and showing loads of PDA...and if all goes right, well, you might get to bang me like a screen door in a wind storm...well, not you, unless you're Music Man...
...or George Michael.
The best part about soaps?
Zero chance of seeing a placenta.
There's how many baby/birth shows on now? About a bagillion. Birth Stories, Baby Story, Birthdays, etc. All endearing tales of couples embarking on babydom. You can turn on the TV at pretty much any part of the day & see the latest pot roast coming into the world.
Having recently gone through childbirth for the second time, I would have thought these shows would be lost on me now - they're not. There's some weird voyeuristic section of my brain that wants to see how other women choose to have their kids. Until now.
You know what I love?
Those blurry spot they put over the nasty bits - love those blurry areas! At least they used to have blurry areas. The higher brow birth shows still have them, but I tuned into a show this morning that had me looking at my jam in a different light. And I just had a kid!
Seriously, if people want to see the kind of birthing seen on Animal Planet, they should go to a birthing class. I had my son at home, a great birth experience, but in no way would I fool myself into thinking other people would want to live it with us! There's no video to post on youtube. There's no pictures to turn into an awkward coffee table book.
I'm going back to watching Days of Our Lives.
The Conception Show - now that's a show I could get behind! Or should I say 'from behind'?
11 June 2009
Time has seriously gone by quickly & I'm hoping we've taken as many pics of The Apostle's early days as we took of Little E. Here he is.
Nine days until my folks get here. I'll post about them later - as the day draws near, my blood pressure gets higher. I'll have a much funnier post closer to the day when I'm more manic.
08 June 2009
I'm having difficulty pin pointing the actual favourite part of my day. Little E is usually fairly adaptable to situations, but the potty is something she cannot quite grasp (and honestly, if I had someone to change me throughout the day, I'd choose to carry on in my 2 year old world as well!). She's having the 1st real responsibility thrust onto her shoulders & is pissed. She will happily sit on the potty when she doesn't have to go - the pain in my shoulders & back are evidence of this as we sat together for hours & hours today - she on her potty & I on the hardwood, hard ass, floor.
We had a few successful potty moments, interrupted by sheer moments of rage on her part & utter horror on mine. Pretty much everything runs through your mind. Such as, "this is just part of the process, no one said it would be easy", "these rages she's having probably won't affect her permanently, right?", and my favourite, "you're the worst mother in the world, you should have potty trained her long ago".
I also question whether potty training is really necessary? There is a clear correlation between potty training and dating. If there's a chance she might piss on a date, I know it won't go anywhere, there's solace in that.
Couple that scenario with caring for the Baby Apostle & you've got a complete circus on your hands. He had a good day, but there's just no easy way of caring for a little one when your life is consumed by the potty world. How does one negotiate diapers while sitting on the floor next to the deep freeze (had to get out of the bathroom & move the potty so Mom could be slightly saner in a larger environment)?
The highlight may have been trying to grab baby wipes with my badly in need of a pedicure toes while balancing the Baby Apostle on one knee and giving him his bottle through some weird pose with my chin, holding onto Little E (who is screaming her lips off as she just peed on the floor), with one hand and swatting the cat who is dangerously close to knocking over the canister of jelly beans I'd been bribing Little E with. There's nothing left to do by cry at that point.
Once everyone was calm it seemed like things might be quiet long enough for me to empty the dishwasher. That's when the smell hit me...where was the smell of curdled throw up coming from?
Garbage disposal? Nada.
Moi? Ding, ding, ding.
How long had that dried spit up been on me? Not sure...it was dry. Sex bomb! Can't decide what's hotter, wearing dried spit up, the giant granny panties I've resigned myself to or my greasy, matted to my head hair...when did I wash it last??? Fuck knows.
Both children are sleeping soundly now & it's early.
I should be celebrating by breaking the celibacy which follows childbirth, but he's had to go back to work to make up for lost time he took out to help me today. And I won't pretend that celibacy would have been broken due to my current and aforementioned, state of physical unawareness.
Guess I'll clean & eat leftover weekend cupcakes...
...and listen to Neil Diamond and wait for tomorrow.
If you're thinkin' that my life
Is a hoot and a holler
From the start of the day
To the dark of the night
Then it's ringing like a bell
That you only wanna follow
And trust me when I say
I'm just trying to get it right
Still I think about myself
As a lucky old dreamer
If you're asking me to tell
Is it worth what I paid?
You're gonna hear me say
Hell yeah it is
And I say it loud
I loved it all
And I'm not too proud
I freed my soul
Just let it fly
Hell yeah this crazy life around me
It confuses and confounds me
But its all the life
Until I die
Hell yeah it is
07 June 2009
I know what my lower half looks like in them.
Remember in the 80's you could get cheese in a tube? I guess it was similar to Cheeze Whiz, but it came in a tube. I actually don't know if it's still on the market, but that's the last time I remember it. Mom had a pension for buying weird & wonderful edible concoctions which were most likely based on dares.
Actually, my lower half is like a Liverwurst Tube http://www.karlehmer.com/index.asp?PageAction=VIEWPROD&ProdID=43 - mmmm.
Here's to fat spilling everywhere - I may spread some on a cracker.
04 June 2009
Anyway, this is not one of those useless toys. And, although the Music Man looked at me blankly as I proudly displayed my find, I am convinced Little E will remember this toy until she has kids of her own.
03 June 2009
Let me explain...
I have an image in mind of what I look like & let me tell you (and I mean this humbly), I'm smokin' - Charlize should be asking me who does my colours.
Then I pass a mirror.
That pregnancy glow is long gone as is the "I just gave birth I am She-Ra Princess of Power" kind of confidence. A tired, ragged, fatter version of myself has settled in.
Have I mentioned that my new favourite thing is Rum & Coke slurpies? And that I've made Kettle Corn about 5 times in about 9 days? Chocolate anyone? And for the first time in my life, I am eating my own baking (cardinal rule of The Baking Club - always have a tester, never, ever, sample your own work). I'm making a birthday cake for a friend this weekend. God, grant me the serenity!
So, the obvious plan should be to begin a workout routine of some sort. Not my strong suit...actually not my suit at all. In fact, if life were the prom & the suit I wore to the prom reflected my workout regime, I would show up looking like Herb Tarlek.
What is really sucking ass at the moment is that I don't even have the good boobs that go along with post pregnancy. I am not able to breastfeed, so no big jugs for me...or Music Man (good thing he's an ass man - something I have ample of). So, I'm stuck being an eleven year old boy on top & Bruce Vilanch on the bottom.
At the end of my pregnancy all I wanted was to see my toes again - I can see them. They're what's on the other side of the deflated whoopy cushion once known as my stomach - not that the area was my best to begin with, but let's face it, no one wants to see a cute pedicure on the other side of jowels.
The up side is that I am wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans. They fit like a dream right after giving birth 5 weeks ago. That may have been my downfall. I got cocky and have been eating my face off. My skinny jeans mock me from our closet. I tried them on over the weekend.
I am this clueless...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyO-z_7Ip9c&feature=related
Let's just hang on & pray that post-partum doesn't hit until one of these issues is resolved, or I'm drunker.