Don't Lick the Deck!

Niagara Nerds

2013-05-19T15:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my birthday. Although I do not enjoy getting older, I still enjoy telling everyone and their brother that my birthday is coming up.

Starting in January.

People need lots of notice to be properly prepared right?

I don't know why I feel the need to tell everyone. It must be the attention-seeking only child in me that gets excited when there is a day that is about me, and only me. Look at me!!! Look. At. Meeeeeeeeee!!!

But only if I know you.

If I don't know you, avert your eyes.

Of if I have toilet paper hanging out the back of my jeans.

Yesterday didn't start off well...2 of my kids screaming at each other, a filthy house that they refused to help clean up, me holding 2 garbage bags ready to hold toys ransom, a broken vacuum, and my mother-in-law on her way to see how we live in filth.

It's my birthday. I'll cry if I want to.

But we rallied.

Nerdguy's mom came to watch the kids for us so that we could get out on a date. I always get in a flap about trying to get ready to go out...sometimes just staying in yoga pants and drinking wine in the big wine glasses is a stronger force than the desire to "go somewhere" like "people." But I am always glad that Nerdguy ~~bullies~~ convinces me into going.

We were going to do the usual thing of dinner and a movie, but it was such a gorgeous day, so we decided to be wild and crazy and head to Niagara Falls. It's an hour from here, but Nerdguy has never been out of the car at the actual falls, and I hadn't been since I was a teenager. We drive through there on our way to Buffalo, and to see the Christmas lights. And once we went to Perkins when we stayed at Great Wolf Lodge. And the casino once.

People travel the world to see the falls and we have never been there together. Shameful.

The rainbow stretched across the whole horseshoe falls. Check out the double rainbow on the bottom left! And someone PLEASE tell me if double rainbow isn't 2 rainbows beside each other, but is in fact some pervy sex act. We probably saw that there too.

It was either very windy and misty there or the electricity being generated was using my hair as a conduit. And that's not a large zit on my chin. Because I am too old for those. It's a red freckle. Yeah. Let's go with that.

We enjoyed walking around and looking at the ~~tourists~~ majestic waterfalls. Seven pee breaks later, we headed to the casino and ~~recklessly ripped up wads of cash~~ gambled a little bit.

I didn't take a picture of the giant bag of money that we won. For security reasons. Not because it is imaginary or anything.

Next was dinner at the Keg. We had an amazing table right up against the window overlooking the falls.

This was our view from the table. I recommend making reservations for when it is still light out, but late enough that you can see the falls all lit up. It was gorgeous at night.

I highly recommend going there to eat. But make a reservation. And I am quite confident that the staff won't be "guessing the birthday girl's age" again anytime soon. So you're probably safe there.

I begged her not to. When she overshot my age by 4 years I asked for a barrel of liquor or a barrel in which to go over the falls. Because you know that if she said I was 4 years older, she really thinks I look another 5-15 years older than that. She thought she was flattering me probably! She confessed her sins to her manager and he fixed it. Except for now I felt like the whole staff was probably swinging by the table just to confirm that I look like I escaped the nursing home.

But there was also free Billy Miner Pie for birthday boys and girls.

Being old is delicious.

I took all of these pictures on my new iPhone...the new camera is SO much better than the 3gs. The flash scared the hell out of me in the restaurant though. Good thing I wasn't trying to take some incognito People of Walmart photo or something!

This is not a sponsored post. In fact I am sure the Keg will be begging me to take it down very soon.

Call Me Maybe? But I Won't Hear You

2013-05-16T18:42:00.003-07:00

On Tuesday I posted this status on Facebook:

What I forgot to mention is that I totally ruined it by saying "BLESS you for calling me Miss and not Ma'am." I might as well have called the UPS guy Sonny and handed him a shiny nickel.

I was hoping that I would get an iPhone 5 for my birthday, because my 3gs is 4 years old and feels remotely like it might catch fire at any moment. And I spend most of my free time scanning rooms for available outlets to charge the sad, worn-out battery. It has gotten very slow, and the camera is awful.

First world problems I know. Really I know. But I do this thing where I focus on petty problems, and it distracts me from actual problems that I can't control. Don't worry...I minored in psychology...I've already diagnosed myself.

I had made it known that I would really love a new phone, but also told Nerdguy that I completely understand if it is too expensive. So I didn't really know if I would be getting a new one or not. Except he's been asking me a lot of questions about what colour I want etc., so I was either getting a phone, or he was getting a frying pan to the head for being cruel.

When the package arrived I was excited, but also still vaguely concerned that it was an attachment for the weedwacker.

Nerdguy couldn't wait until my birthday on Saturday to give me the phone...he gave it to me today so that I could have it all set up in time for turning ~~one hundred~~ 29 (with a +/- 10 year error correction).

Yay...it really was a phone!!! He helped me transfer over my email and calendar and get everything setup properly. I don't know why I find itunes so confusing. I ran my accounting office's network, but I can't use itunes? Is it confusing? Is it me? It's me isn't it? Crap.

We hit a slight glitch when we discovered that the speakers don't work. Booooo. Even the apple dudes that Nerdguy tried to chat with gave up. So I have made myself an appointment at the genius bar tomorrow. If it doesn't go well, then I will be headed to the kind of bar that doesn't require appointments. Especially with a looming LCBO strike (that's where they sell the liquor in Ontario). I never paid attention in history class. Did prohibition end well? I think I need to watch M*A*S*H reruns to learn how to make my own still.

Wish me luck tomorrow! And I would love it if you shared my facebook page with your friends. In a good way. Not like how those mean kids passed my diary around. Last week.

Melatonin for Sleep Issues in Autism

2013-05-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

We finally started Molly on melatonin at night. We didn't think that she had that much trouble with sleeping...sure the stretch of time it took to get her to drop off was increasing, and she has been hard to wake all her life...when the twins were born Molly was sleeping until noon on the weekends...but other than that we thought she was a pretty good sleeper. No random middle-of-the-night wakings, or yawning all day.

Alright, so perhaps some slight narcolepsy issues, but to be fair, she had just come from a gruelling tea party. And OMG look how sweet she is there...I can't believe that was 6 1/2 years ago!!!

We are kicking ourselves that we didn't start her on this sooner. And by kicking ourselves, I mean I am literally kicking Nerdguy. Because I don't get enough sleep either. It makes me cranky.

She is waking up ahead of when we wake her for school. Do you comprehend that???? AHEAD. Usually it takes nothing short of a riot squad to get that child out of bed. The combination of a good night's sleep and the incentive of having tablet time if she goes downstairs willingly have been huge.

We are also continuing to use other healthy sleep habits for her such as playing the same lullaby CD as she is settling in, having a consistent bedtime, a dark room, no caffeine aside from occasional chocolate, and time to wind down with reading. None of those things were working on their own, but they certainly can't hurt.

Before, she could climb into bed with a book and still be wide awake, deeply engrossed in the story at midnight if we didn't catch her. I've never understood this, since I fall asleep before I finish the first page of a book if I try to read at night. Or the day. Tonight Molly said that she would like to continue reading, but that she couldn't stay awake any longer.

THIS IS HUGE!

We are on week 2 of the regimen that the pediatrician prescribed for using the melatonin. The chart has you increasing the dose, but also giving it earlier and earlier until you find the sweet spot. I am thinking that we won't have to move much beyond the initial dose, an hour ahead of bedtime.

We would like to try it with Maggie too because she is very hard to settle at night, and often wakes up for long stretches in the night. Administering it to her is going to be the problem with that though since she won't take any meds. Any advice?

What has been your experience with sleep habits with kids with autism? Do you use melatonin, and do you find it works? Did you stop it after resetting the sleep cycle, or did you keep using it?

With a Quack Quack Here...

2013-05-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

On Friday as we were coming out of the house for school, I heard an enormous amount of quacking. After asking Grace if it was her quacking, taking in her eye rolling, and apologizing for the grave injustice of the question, I realized there was a duck fight going down across the street.

iPhone in hand I ran across the street to ~~film it~~ help them. There were 2 male mallards and a female having a scuffle, and a third male watching. I alternated yelling out "Are they mating or fighting?" with scanning for a fifth duck that might be holding a video camera. If this was becoming a new duck porn filming location, this was going to seriously reduce our property value.

Finally 2 of the males (the lookie-loo and the harasser) were scared off by my ~~moustache~~ dirty look, and flew away. The duck couple left behind were adorable waddling around quacking at us. I still don't know exactly what was happening here...if they were defending a nest or if my kids just got the live show version of the birds and the bees lesson.

Or possibly we were one paternity announcement short of being the Jerry Springer Show with ducks.

The ducks were missing all their teeth. But I couldn't see any visible tramp stamp on the girl or saggy shorts on the boys, so they weren't quite ready for daytime television.

Mother's Day

2013-05-12T19:23:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is somewhat exhausting. I think we're all on the same page there right? But I am feeling pretty lucky though too. I was showered with beautiful cards and gifts made by my children, a loving and funny card from my husband, and beautiful flowers and earrings from all of them. And lots of snuggles. Love the snuggles.

And wine.

Oh the wine.

And of course, the traditional Mother's Day gift that moms around the world eagerly anticipate each year....

......a weedwacker.

My husband is nothing if not unconventional.

The good news is that it is not for me to use, but since I am somewhat particular about having a nice lawn, he bought a better trimmer so that he can keep the grass trimmed the way I like it.

Why does it sound like I am talking about personal grooming here?

Stop thinking about that.

Look over there!

Back to Mother's Day.

Yesterday we drove out to see Nerdguy's family. We visited with his mom, and took her out to dinner with his sister and her family. We had a reservation, at an early time, at a family-friendly restaurant.

All the bases covered right?

Except for the secret carnival option. Those things like to pop up randomly from time to time just to screw us over. We weren't counting on driving past a carnival on the way to the restaurant.

Classic rookie mistake.

There was a good deal of screaming and thrashing about the carnival once we got to the restaurant. So I got out the ipad to try to calm her. She wanted wifi. More screaming. A 10 minute meltdown in the vestibule, with floor pounding and kicking. I secretly hoped she would kick open the ATM. I probably would have made a run for it with her and the cash. And bought a carnival. Or paid the carnivals to go away and stay away. I'd decide on the way. Back at the table I pulled out her beloved Dora books that I had packed. Handed one to her.

It was Dora's Carnival.

SHIT!

More screaming. Then chocolate milk. Best invention ever.

I spent most of the dinner rubbing her back and not hearing anything that anyone said, but I ate pizza. And chocolate deliciousness. So it was okay. Maggie had ice cream. We danced in the bathroom. She thought it was okay too.

This morning Nerdguy and Grace went out and got McDonald's breakfast and Tim Horton's coffee.

Delicious.

I vacuumed. Something was in the beater bar when I turned the central vac on. Now the vacuum doesn't work because something is stuck in the pipes.

Sweeping carpet is harder than you would think.

Hubby barbecued steaks for us, my mom, and her "friend." Steak goooooodddddd. The kids acted like delinquents. But there was more wine. And lemon cake. And hugs and kisses from my kids. And now there is quiet. And dishes. And Lost on netflix.

And always there is love.

Happy Mother's Day!

Neighbourly Advice

2013-05-08T19:05:00.001-07:00

I was washing the dishes in the kitchen last night, listening to Maggie playing in the yard, happily enjoying the gorgeous weather that we have been blessed with. She was alternating between the familiar 'hoot' that I know so well, and reciting passages from Dora with great dramatic flare. I was thinking about how the sounds of Maggie must be so familiar to the neighbours by now. Even the ones who don't know her well would surely know her to hear her.

And like how a certain scent or sound, a swatch of fabric, or the taste of a familiar spice combination can catapult us back into a memory that we haven't thought of in years, my mind was sent backward by 15 years.

We were living in a small town outside of Ottawa, and had just moved into our first house. We felt like grown-ups, and I'm quite sure we looked like grown-ups, but really we were so so young. Shortly after we moved in, I met the lady who lived next door. She introduced herself and told me that they have 3 children. She mentioned that she had a son who has autism, and that if I should ever see him outside by himself, I should come let them know right away. She said that they had locks that would keep that from happening, but that you just never know.

We didn't have kids. I had never really been around kids. I remember feeling vaguely alarmed that there could be this crisis during which I wouldn't know what to do, and that her son might get hurt. I don't remember if it occurred to me how she must feel. That she might alternate between being terrified by all the 'what-ifs' of what could happen if her son got out, and the self-preserving need to not even think about it at all, because it's too scary. No...I'm certain I never thought about any of that.

Ignorance is bliss isn't it?

The winter went on. And on. And on. I had never seen so much snow in my life. Ottawa is only a 5 hour drive away, so I didn't think the weather would be all that different from home.

We were regularly getting 25cm dumped on us, and still expected to get to work. If we get that much here, the city shuts down. Snow was being hauled away from the suburban curb-sides in dump trucks. I had never seen that before. We didn't have a snowblower or a service because we were delusional rookies, and former apartment dwellers. No idea what we had gotten ourselves into.

And so we shovelled. And shovelled. And seemed to get nowhere. We eventually just gave up on digging out our second car, and carpooled by necessity. We were both working really long hours at our jobs...Nerdguy trying to prove himself in the high-tech boom, and me living the life (or lack thereof) of an accounting grunt during tax season. The day that our neighbour dug us out with his 4-wheeler felt like a gift from the heavens. And although we had a great appreciation for that act of kindness then, we have a whole new appreciation for it now, knowing what we know.

That their lives were hard. That finding time to clear his own driveway, let alone ours, was likely a huge challenge. That it was an even bigger gift than we could have imagined at the time. And also that he probably felt satisfaction in being able to help us in a tangible way. To control something in his day, when so much in his life was beyond his control. Like the worrying. And the challenges.

Sometimes when I can't solve a problem, or I feel like I don't have control over something I like to help someone else solve their problem instead. It makes me feel like there are some things that I can control. That there is order in the universe. And that if I can't solve my own problems, maybe it is because they are meant for someone else to solve. The whole village concept.

That family moved a few streets away in the Spring (while insisting that it wasn't because of us) so I never got a chance to know them. Their son would be an adult now, and I find myself wondering about how he is doing. If they got better neighbours than a couple of self-centred people focused on their careers. I hope they did.

I am grateful to them for teaching me about how to be a good neighbour. And about how neither of us could have known that she was teaching me a phrase to tell our future neighbours...

"Maggie has autism, and if you ever see her out front by herself, please let me know right away..."

Lost In Translation

2013-05-06T17:06:00.001-07:00

I like to watch shows on Netflix while I sort laundry and do the dishes. It makes the time pass more quickly, and almost feels like a treat. Oh who am I kidding...it's still drudgery. But it does make it better. I finished up Bones and Mad Men. I'm not-so-patiently waiting for Damages. I couldn't get into Dexter for some reason. Of course that was the weekend I spent cleaning Molly's room while she was at Brownie Camp, so I probably didn't give it a fair chance...it's similar to getting an electric shock every time you reach for a piece of chocolate...that whole negative association thing likely ruined Dexter for me. Molly's room was scarier than any serial killer drama could ever hope to be.

Yesterday I discovered that Lost is on the Canadian Netflix stream.

Seems like a great show.

If I weren't getting on a PLANE this month.

And if watching This is 40 hadn't already ruined the ending for me.

Kind of hard to root for a bunch of people that you already know are going to die. I managed to do the whole fingers-in-the-ears-na-na-na-na-I-can't-hear-you routine for years when the show was on TV so that I wouldn't ruin it for myself when I eventually watched it. And I almost made it. Thanks a lot Judd Apatow. Thanks. A. Lot.

I'm turning 39 this month.

Which Judd has also ruined for me.

Maybe he would like a side-job delivering all my bad news. He can tell me about my dental cavities, the rise in hydro rates, and perhaps he can program his voice into my scale to shout out my weight each morning. Because frankly I think he enjoys it.

Comment and let me know what you think I should be watching and why. Just don't spoil the ending. Nobody likes an Apatow. And my apologies if I spoiled Lost for you. If I can't watch it, no one can.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

2013-05-02T20:37:00.000-07:00

We are having beautiful weather here in my part of Ontario. But it's that weather where it is a little chilly for shorts in the morning still. And with Maggie you can't make a premature switch into less clothing. That is a recipe for disaster. One day without a jacket in early Spring, and you'll be lucky to get that thing back on her before Christmas. Give her an inch and she'll take 10 miles.

So I sent her to school in pants.

My mistake was in picking her up with her sisters both wearing shorts, and not having any shorts for Maggie. The second she saw Grace she started taking off her pants.

In the foyer of the school.

This is one of those moments when I am thankful that we are at her autism program, because these parents don't bat an eyelash at this kind of thing. They've been there. Done that. Got the blue puzzle-piece T-shirt.

I had promised Molly we could stay and look for frogs outside, but Maggie wanted her pants to die.

We were in a jam.

So I first-thened it. First you give your sister your shorts, and then we get to look for frogs. I'm quite sure this isn't what they meant in the training course, but it saved the day.

Sisters steal each other's clothes all the time. Perhaps not while they are already wearing them...but I'm an only child...what do I know?

So that was wardrobe malfunction number one.

Number two was when I made the mistake of trying to look nice. I should just give up really. And I am sure that most people who see me in public would be surprised to learn that my regular appearance isn't the result of having already given up.

I had on one of those flowy cardigan-like tops that are really long in the front, and conducive to nothing in the way of housework. So I took it off while I was loading the dishwasher, and just had my tank top on. The look is ruined if the entire bottom of the top is soaked in marinara sauce and left-over cereal milk. When it was time to run the girls out to their extra-curricular I threw it back on to race them over. I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get those stupid plastic straps that are meant for hanging it up to stay inside the top, so I kept fighting with them the whole way through the parking lot.

Yeah...the straps are pretty hard to conceal....when you are wearing your shirt inside-out!

Inside-out day is only cute in kindergarten. When you're ..ahem..."mature" wearing your clothes inside-out puts you on several watch lists.

Dinner Is Served. Sometimes.

2013-04-29T20:04:00.001-07:00

Last year at Blissdom Canada I had the pleasure of meeting the very lovely Louise Gleeson of Late Night Plays. We had chatted a bit and commented on each other's blogs, but it was so nice to meet her in person. Since then we have kept in touch regularly on Facebook and I even got to have coffee with her once somewhere in our busy schedules.

Louise is one of those rare finds who you can feel joy radiating from (in a completely wonderful way...not in the way that makes you want to haul off and punch her...sorry...rage issues...I'm working on them). The love she has for her family can be felt in everything she writes and photographs. And the way she feels about her friends shows in her everyday way, but also in the gestures that make a big difference to someone having a bad day. Like a greeting card showing up in your mail when she knows you are having a hard time. Not an ecard either...but REAL authentic mail that you can hold in your hand. And maybe laminate and put under your pillow when you're sleeping...not that I would do that because I am completely normal...I'm just saying that you could do that...if you were off-balance...quite the opposite of me.

One of Louise's many talents is the food that she makes for her family. She is famous for her fabulous Bento lunches that her lucky children get to take to school with them. And this week she posted a recipe for Chicken Souvlaki on her personal Facebook page. It looked delicious. And was perfect timing since I was just about to head off to the grocery store. Without a plan. Again.

I bought all of the ingredients and made it to the checkout with 5 minutes to spare before they closed. I was excited to make the meal for dinner the next day, and to actually be thinking about it before 5pm. I got the chicken out to marinate it and realized I forgot to buy 2 ingredients. And I managed to buy the one package of pitas in the store without pockets. I'm hopeless. But I forged ahead. And even without the things I forgot it was still the best meal my family ate that week. It was a hit with all of them. Maggie just ate the pita, but that's more than she will usually eat.

Grace kept asking me where the box for the chicken was.

There's no box sweetie.

But where is the box??? *slow blinking*

It didn't come in a box. It's fresh chicken breasts.

But how did you get it home?? *no more blinking. just wide eyes*

I use fresh chicken all the time, but she was convinced that it had come frozen in a box. The only other option in her mind was that I had walked around the grocery store carrying loose chicken bits willy-nilly through the aisles. I guess it's too many of these meals that leave the biggest impression on her. Must work on this too.

One of the reasons that we so often end up eating something frozen out of a box is that I never have a plan. Louise is doing a great giveaway over on her blog for a Family Menu Planner that should help with that problem. You should stop over there and see what her delicious meal looks like, because my picture does not do it justice. I was too busy stuffing my face to get a decent picture. While you are over at Late Night Plays you can read Louise's lovely writing and say hello. Hurry over though because she is doing the draw on May 1st!

This is not a sponsored post, and I was not asked to write it. I just wanted an excuse to say nice things about Louise! I AM going over there to try and win one of those planners though!!

My Curb May Be TOO Appealing

2013-04-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

I do this thing where I invite people over, either for social occasions or as a meeting location. And then I want to fake my death to get out of it. I have delusional expectations that I might possibly be able to get my shit together enough to have a reasonably clean house. Or that having a deadline will "motivate" me.

I am an ass.

Last night I was having a committee meeting here. It's the only way that I can attend the meeting because Nerdguy has his own commitment on Thursday nights. And until the nanny cam is validated as an approved caregiver, I can't leave the house.

So I am scrambling around yesterday, as one does when they live with 4 messy people. Can't clean ahead of time or it will be all undone right?

Also, there is my ADHD. We all know I have it. Nerdguy too. We just can't get ourselves organized enough to make it official. Who can make appointments or fill out paperwork when those are the exact things we struggle with in the first place???

This is what leads to sorting through paperwork instead of cleaning the bathroom. I felt a sudden pressing need to go through the kids' schoolwork.

From last year.

Papers everywhere.

Crap.

I posted this on facebook during one of my desperate moments, when I was ~~slacking~~ completely focused on the task at hand:

"I'm having a committee meeting here tonight and the place is a disaster. Options are 1. Cancel the meeting. 2. Turn off all the lights and hide when they come to the door. 3. Burn the house down. 4. If I'm feeling particularly drastic...get off my ass and clean.

I'll get the matches..."

By the way, if you don't already like me on Facebook, you totally should. Medical teams put together entire costly studies to see unedited streams of consciousness like that, and you my friends get to witness it for free. And I will pay you. In smiles. Or garden snails.

Somehow, I pulled myself together, and got the hall, living room, dining room, and in a last-minute Hail Mary pass (there...now this is a sporting blog...Nike should be sponsoring me any second now) I even managed to get the powder room cleaned.

Whew!

As I was letting them out the front door after a successful meeting I saw this:

Please let this be actual grass.

A bag of grass. On my porch. Where we were having the PTA meeting. Well played Universe. Well played. Now they'll want to have all the meetings here.

Brownie Camp

2013-04-23T08:47:00.002-07:00

This weekend Molly and Grace went away to Girl Guide camp with their Brownie unit. You'll remember that the three of us went to Mom and Me camp for March Break, which I blogged about in excruciating detail. (Except for the last day, because I lack follow-through.) But this is the first time that they have been away without us other than once at their nana's and Grace has been to 2 sleepovers at friends' houses. So this was a big deal.

Grace was brave and excited from the beginning, so I wasn't really worried about her. Molly was another story. She took a couple of weeks to carefully consider if she even wanted to go on this trip, and even then I could tell she was nervous. And she doesn't know this, but I was extremely nervous. I was afraid that she wouldn't get up in the morning or keep up with the group, or that she would feel left out because I don't think she has really made any friends that she hangs out with there. I was also afraid that she would be able to do all of these things, but that it would be a huge pressure on her trying to keep herself together, and she would be a giant ball of anxiety when she got back.

To put it in context, as a child, in my mind the idea of being sent away to camp was the worst possible thing that my parents could do to me. So just the fact that my kids even want to try it makes them the bravest kids in the whole wide world in my book.

When it was time to put them on the bus, Grace was still very excited, but also starting to give a bit of a nervous smile. Her BFF was going as well, so I felt like she had a bit of an extra safety-net going into it. Molly was coaching herself with pep talks..."I can do this Molly. I can do this." Once she was on the bus she was giving me that wavering smile that is forced, and looks like it may dissolve into sobs at any moment. The straw that broke the camel's smile was when they moved Grace and her friend into the same seat as Molly and she felt squished. That's when the tears came.

And that's when I started typing into the notepad of my iphone and holding it up to her window so that I could communicate with her.

I think Apple is going to use us in their next TV ad.

After some hugs of her bunny, she settled down, and they both put on big smiles for this picture right before the bus pulled away.

I've been on edge the entire weekend, waiting for a late-night phone call. The knock on our door at 11:30 Friday evening, that had the sound of either my father or a police officer, did not do much to calm my nerves. I've never been so relieved to have a drunken young whippersnapper turn up at my door.

Poor Maggie began packing her suitcase on Thursday and declaring "I'm going to China!" Ever since then it has been an endless loop of that, followed by "Sleepover. L's house. Kajamas (that's Maggie-speak for pajamas)" L is Grace's BFF, and all 3 are in the same class at school, so I think Maggie was convinced that her sisters were over at L's house having a grand party. Next was a string of demands for a birthday party for Grace. "Grace lala presents. A birthday party? Streamers? Goody bags? Balloons?..." Clearly we do not entertain enough for Miss Partygirl's liking.

A suitcase full of essentials (stuffies) ready for a trip to China.

The whole weekend went by without a peep from Brown Owl, and they arrived back today with smiles on their faces. The biggest surprise for me was that Molly says she wants to go to another one, and loved it, whereas Grace has decided that she no longer wants to go to summer camp because a week is too long to be away from us.

Selfishly I kind of enjoyed hearing that, because this is the kid who has been taking off running to tackle every challenge without even a backward glance ever since she was a little tot. She has always squirmed out of our arms and been far too busy for cuddling, and giving me the teenage "you're embarrassing me" wave since junior kindergarten, so it's comforting to learn that she isn't in that big of a hurry to grow up.

One thing that never changes is that no matter how well I think I know my babies, they never cease to surprise and amaze me.

The Motivational Poster That Wasn't

2013-04-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

I bought this canvas because I liked the sayings on it, and I thought it would inspire me if I hung it in the dining room where I do my writing.

It's been sitting like this on the floor:

For a YEAR.

In front of the vent cover that won't stay attached to the wall.

For 11 years.

Maybe I need a second motivational poster.

One that has something in it about home repairs.

Or even better - a motivational T-shirt.

Worn by a handyman.

Luck of the Irish

2013-04-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

I can trace more than half of my family history back to Ireland. I went to Catholic school. I've kissed the Blarney Stone. I have pale skin with freckles, a natural reddish tinge to my hair and green eyes.

At least they were before they turned hazel. And the red in my hair has become hard to spot through all the grey.

But still, I should be able to rally behind a holiday that celebrates ~~beer~~ my heritage shouldn't I?

Nope.

When the kids were toddlers I would buy them the obligatory Old Navy or Children's Place t-shirts with the Irish sayings on them, and I usually drag out my green hoodie for the occasion, but beyond that...nada. Not a shamrock shake, corn beef & cabbage (gag), nor Irish Soda bread in sight. I don't even think I have eaten Irish Soda bread before.

Even though I am completely Irish-Canadian on my mother's side, I wasn't raised with any real knowledge or celebration of what that meant. Many of the traditions and characteristics that I have grown up with and always just had as a part of me, I have come to learn are things that the Irish are known for. Like the fact that I firmly believe that potatoes should have their very own delicious spot holding up the food pyramid. And my whole family's fantastic sense of humour. Or the teensy little temper that some people say that I have. (For the record, all of those people are rethinking their answers once they came to understand that ~~I could have them fired~~ I am a very calm person.)

I also read somewhere that we are known for procrastinating. So that is totally why this post is a month late. To keep it culturally authentic. Are we known for lying too? Because that would help me out a lot.

The stereotype of heavy drinking is completely false in my family though. I have never seen my mother have a drink, and I don't think anyone in my family really drank a lot. That is if we don't discuss the Great Grandfather who gambled away the family meat-packing plant due to his drinking. So we won't. Other than to point out that I could be living in a castle right now, with all the potatoes I desire, if that had all worked out. But that just sounds like more cleaning anyway, so it's probably for the best.

But back to my point...I think we are known for long and rambling stories too, but I'm too lazy to look that one up...my point in writing this is that I am also too lazy to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, but for some reason, Molly puts more thought and planning into that holiday than her birthday and Christmas combined. She is convinced that if she builds the right trap she is going to catch a leprechaun. I don't know what she plans to do with the leprechaun when she catches one, but I don't think it's his money that she is after. I'm sure she has plans to put him to work.

She almost caught one last year, but he got away, after dropping a couple of loonies on the deck. This year's trap was much more complex, and was built right after Valentine's Day. She NEVER does anything ahead of time, so a project a month ahead shows she means business. She said that the purpose of this year's trap was to lure him in and "keep him busy until morning," rather than trying to trap him.

She researched leprechauns on google to find out what they like, and found out they work as shoemakers and like beer, so she placed a help-wanted ad for shoemakers on the box, and provided tools out of her Lego set inside.

She used the glue gun for the first time, and still has all her fingers

The final product.

She looks a little too intense here. Do glue gun sticks give off toxic fumes by any chance?

Didn't catch him this time, but she did score some more loonies! I probably should have told Nerdguy that she put it on the front porch this year so that he wasn't staggering around the back deck at the crack of dawn looking for the trap, but what fun would that have been?

We're just relieved every year that she doesn't catch a raccoon, because the luck of the Irish seems to have skipped a generation. Or four.

The Time My Stupidity Didn't Kill Us All

2013-04-10T07:47:00.000-07:00

It was a big weekend here for our family. (Well, not for Nerdguy because he was sick in bed all weekend.) I took the girls to get their first pairs of roller blades! I had promised Grace that we would get them this weekend.

Never make promises.

I wasn't counting on Nerdguy being down for the count, so I was on my own to strap the wheels-of-death-boots onto our 3 breakable children. I also had no one to answer me when I pulled my go-to scary movie routine of hiding my eyes and yelling "WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW???? Wait...don't tell me! I SAID DON'T TELL ME! How much blood IS there?!?!"

When you yell things like that in a park, with no other responsible adult actually answering these questions, it tends to attract some fairly negative attention. That's just an FYI for you there. One of Tara's helpful hints for public decorum if you will.

I was extremely nervous as we headed out to the park, with our prior ice skating adventures fresh in my mind. Picture what an Ice Capades blooper reel would be like. With blood, and more crying.

After rolling the minivan/private ambulance into the lot behind the school, we began the task of donning the eleven hundred pieces of safety gear. After realizing that the wrist guard was not a cup, and that the tags had an R and L on them, buried under the seventy other tags, we were golden. Another key to being a helpful and supportive mother is to check the inside of the boot for additional packaging before pushing harder on your child's foot and calling them 'uncooperative.'

A full hour after leaving the house, I had 3 fully protected children ready to blade.

And 4 injuries for myself.

What happened next was thrilling, awe-inspiring, and perhaps even a little bit suspicious.

They were ALL skating. And mostly not falling! And when they did fall, they were able to get themselves up!

They completely rocked it. It was so nice to see them all enjoying themselves, and succeed. Especially for the 2 that athletics does not come naturally to. Plus as a bonus...Maggie can't get away very fast on roller blades, so when you turn to watch another kid, and turn back again, she is still within 500 feet.

So just for the day I gave myself the title of Mom of the Year. I even made myself a little trophy:

It closely resembles a wine glass.

And that cheese is not mine. I'm holding it for a friend.

Blog Party

2013-04-04T21:00:00.000-07:00

I hope this is a pajama party, because I am super cozy in my flannels while I write this. Nerdguy calls them my twitter pants because they have birds all over them that look like the twitter bird. So maybe we'll just say that I am dressed for social media, shall we?

For those of you new to my site, welcome! Please make yourself comfortable. And don't be offended if I count the silverware when you leave. I'm not a trusting person.

So a bit about me, eh? I am an accountant turned stay at home mom. My husband and I have 3 daughters - a 9 year old and 7 year old twins. One of the twins has autism and the oldest is a complex kiddo, so I talk about how we manage navigating life with special needs and maintain a sense of humour. Or I just make jokes as a defense mechanism. A good therapist would vote with the second one.

ERMAgeddon

2013-04-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

So it seems that my mental health is a lot like a house of cards. Flimsy card houses do not fare particularly well in a breeze.

The wind is gusting this week.

People often comment on how strong I am (mentally and physically...don't let my ice cream bod fool you...I could bench-press a lot of those toothpick-shaped women), and that they don't know how I manage the stresses that we have been dealing with, particularly over the past year. And I agree.

I am strong.

But lately I am starting to feel like a sturdy old tree, that has one too many woodpecker (giggle) holes in it. Each stressor is a separate beak pecking away at me until I look like this:

I spent a good amount of time last night and this morning lying and staring at the ceiling, wondering if things will ever get better. Honestly, I don't know if things are going to get better anytime soon. They could even get worse. Which is strangely comforting because it means that the current scenario is not the worst.

Tonight I decided to take some time for me and treat myself to a leisurely trip to the bookstore while Grace was at Brownies. I love the bookstore. It's so relaxing and warm, and I instantly feel better when I am there.

Until I accidentally went right to the kids' section. It's a sickness I think that we can't even shop for ourselves anymore after becoming a mother. And then it got worse...I ended up in the Special Needs Parenting section, staring at the titles, and feeling that warm cozy feeling that those books emit...that feeling that if I just buy the book, the magic answers will be in there and everything will be okay. Luckily a salesperson snapped me out of it and saved me from myself by asking me what I was looking for.

I didn't know.

And out of nowhere I blurted "Where are your Erma Bombeck books?" Immediately, I felt like the kid from A Christmas Story did when he was madly spinning the dials on his Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring. Like everything was going to be okay now because I was going to buy all of my favourite funny books.

You see, I read several of Ms Bombeck's books when I was a kid. My mom was never one for reading...other than the Thorn Birds, which I think was mandatory reading for housewives in the seventies...but she did have If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? by Erma Bombeck.

I read that book so many times that it started to fall apart. And I bought most of her other books and read them too. As a kid. Everyone else was reading Little House on the Prairie. I'm not sure if my interest in the hysterical rantings of a housewife was foreshadowing of the ranting housewife that I was to become 30 years later, or if it shaped that outcome. One of my wonderful friends, who I promise I did not drug in order to get her to say this, has compared some of my writing to be like that of Erma Bombeck. She is now my favourite friend.

Somewhere along the way...probably during my misguided accounting years...I gave away my beloved Erma Bombeck books. I have been eager to replace them lately, and this seemed like the perfect time to treat myself. So you can imagine my expression when the clerk assisting me said "Erma who?" and required me to spell the last name. After an awkward pause, during which my head exploded, I chalked it up to her youth and innocence of what is truly quality writing.

And then the computer betrayed me.

Not only do they not have any in stock, but they never will. The books are special order only. No wonder she had not heard of the author. Isn't that like not having any Jane Austen books in stock. No. No it isn't like that at all. It's a million times worse.

And yet I had my choice of any number of books about farting and toilets.

And that is what is wrong with the world today.

Autism Awareness

2013-04-01T19:26:00.000-07:00

Today marks the beginning of Autism Awareness Month, with tomorrow being World Autism Awareness Day. Honestly, the whole thing leaves me feeling conflicted, tired, and a lot like a giant fraud.

I am conflicted because on the one hand, a whole month dedicated to awareness of something that we live as a family every day has to be good right? If it raises more money to help my kids. Or puts pressure on the government to provide more funding for early and appropriate therapies. Or what if it could chip away at the gap in how people who know Maggie treat her vs the way strangers do?

Those are all good things right?

The problem is that I am exhausted.

It sounds like a giant cop-out, I know. And maybe it is. And then I feel guilty about that. But then something started to happen. I began to notice facebook status updates and blog posts from other autism parent bloggers, commenting on how they were dreading this month. Talk about how we live this every day, so we are already blindingly aware.

And I felt better.

But I still feel like a fraud. I advocate for my daughters, and I try to do everything possible to get them what they need. But I am not writing letters to the government; I don't go in and talk to Maggie's class about autism; I find myself avoiding reading autism blogs; I have the whole "stack o' guilt" reading pile beside my bed gathering dust; and we haven't walked in a single austism walk.

It's not for lack of wanting to do those things. Part of it is a simple lack of time, and making of priorities: dealing with the meltdowns, juggling the therapies, planning the schedules, repairing the constant destruction of our home, keeping Maggie safe, and loving and enjoying my family all come first, with not much time leftover. I think the rest is an act of self-preservation: I feel like my sanity boat is barely floating, and that one more hour a week of thinking about autism is going to be the brick that sinks this ship. It seems unfair that the ones who live with autism have to take on educating everyone else. It's akin to making a drowning victim carve their own lifeboat.

The other reason that I feel like a fraud is that I just don't know what to say. I can explain my child to another adult using all kinds of grown-up words and statistics. But lately I have had a lot of children asking questions, and I find myself left with my mouth gaping open instead of being able to form an intelligent (or any) reply.

Possibly it is because kids ask the hard-hitting questions that adults normally keep to themselves. We were at a park this weekend and a 3 year old kept asking his dad "Why her saying that?" about Maggie doing one of her echolalia monologues from Caillou. I told him that she likes Caillou. After she began making some of her louder stimming noises, the boy kept asking for her to stop. I didn't know what to say, and obviously correcting his grammar or calling him four-eyes wasn't going to be the way to go. So I just played with Maggie and ignored it all. I keep wanting to educate the public, and these golden opportunites come along and I don't know what to say.

Or I say something completely inappropriate like I did when Maggie had a level 17 meltdown at the grocery store last weekend and I couldn't get her out of the store. Apparently yelling "Enjoying the show?" at the gawking bystanders is 'not constructive.'

Sometimes the only thing I am creating awareness of is the dangers of limiting a mother's access to sedatives. I wonder what colour lightbulb you use for that?

This was our first year of wearing blue for World Autism Day 3 years ago. Taking a picture for Autism Awareness is easier than you would think. They're wearing blue. They have their own agendas. There. Now you're aware.

Dear Easter Bunny

2013-03-30T17:52:00.001-07:00

Molly asked me today if she could write the Easter Bunny an email. I asked her why she wanted to send one. She said that she wanted to ask him to not bring any gummy type candy that would pull out Maggie's dental work.

Maggie has $2,300 worth of metal in her mouth, including a spacer and some caps, and we don't let her have anything that could pull those out, since it would involve sedation. Of her and me.

Molly gets very stressed out about it all. Maggie had been in the door for a grand total of 30 seconds on Thursday when she grabbed a chair and stole Grace's box of Mike & Ike's from on top of the pantry. Molly was in level 9 hysteria.

So Molly sat down today to write her letter. I just found it now when I sat down at my computer:

Dear, Easter Bunny

It's Yellow Hop Hop's birthday tomorrow. So I was wondering if you could bring a little something for him too. If it is possible can you make me feel better because I am not feeling so well.

Love Molly

She forgot to mention the candies, so I am sure that she will be awake sometime around 3am when that occurs to her. I did tell her earlier that the Easter Bunny probably already knows, so hopefully that will help.

But how cute is her letter? She figured out how to send it, put in the hearts, and change the colour all on her own. And I really hope that he brings her wish of feeling better because she has had more than her fair share of being sick for holidays.

This is from Easter 2010, and that is Molly's beloved Yellow Hop Hop sitting in her lap.

Happy Easter to all of you! I'm off to vacuum like a mad woman and figure out a present for a Yellow Hop Hop. What do you get for a stuffed animal who has everything?

Girl Guide Camp - Day 5

2013-03-21T21:40:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, Day 5 started off in a rush since I slept through my alarm. I woke up at 7:35. We got ready evacuation-style...Gangnam Style's lesser known dance style. Heeeyyy sleepy lady...get your snow pants on....

It'll catch on. I'm sure of it.

After finally making it to breakfast...the Mom and Me group were all running late today...we had an outdoor camp-wide challenge against the other kids. We earned points in various challenges such as flinging a winter boot with a snow shovel, building a shelter, and shrinking island.

And that's when the power went out.

In the country that means that the toilets are out too.

The final challenge of the camp was almost "Let's see who can evacuate to the Hilton the fastest." The young campers didn't have a chance against us on that one since they need their parents to drive them places.

I had my car keys in the ready position until I heard that the outage affected 300,000 people. I'm not driving that far without a coffee drive-thru. At least if I stayed put they would know how to make coffee in desperate times.

In a brilliant twist of fate, they had a lunch of hot dogs cooked over the campfire already planned, that made them look like problem-solving pioneers. This was an amazing example to the kids about making lemonade with lemons. Or making carcinogens with fire and tubes of questionable meat. TomAto tomAHto. It also virtually guarantees that the next time we lose power, the kids will be lighting our backyard on fire in the name of lunch.

Thankfully they had oodles of boiled hot dogs inside because food that is held 3 feet above the flame in the dead of winter tends to take approximately 11 billion years to cook. While simultaneously charring to the point that my children refuse to eat them.

Ditto for s'mores. I roasted my marshmallows to a perfect golden colour. Grace disintegrated hers. Guess which one she ate?

Next the kids went inside for face painting and games while the moms went back in the lodge for arts and crafts time. I sat down for the watercolour instruction. I don't think I'll be getting that badge either. There is also a very slim chance of me getting the Good Sport badge after my "outburst" when my painting wasn't going well. It turns out that I find painting as relaxing as yoga.

My friends thought my red canoes were a campfire. They're now dead to me.

Hint: this one is not my painting. And if you could see the building to the right, the photo and my painting would be identical.

Maple snowcones and face painting. Grace is a butterfly and Molly is a frog.

After dinner we had an indoor campfire with a lot of great songs that I had trouble keeping up with. Singing ABCs, Baa Baa Black Sheep and Twinkle Twinkle all at the same time in rounds blew my ADHD mind!

Finally, we had our night hike, and it was a perfect night for it with a gorgeous sky full of stars. It was truly breathtaking. And then we ate fireflies.

Not really, but when you bite a wintergreen lifesaver in the dark forest, it sparks like a firefly.

And it does make a sound. The sound of children whining about being tricked into eating a mint.

You can read about Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, and Day 4 but not about Day 6.

Girl Guide Camp - Day 4

2013-03-17T07:21:00.000-07:00

I'm writing Wednesday's recap late on Thursday night, and since each day here seems to pack in about 6 days worth of activities, I'm having a bit of trouble remembering what happened yesterday. Either that or the sparking lifesaver has affected my memory. You'll have to read Day 5's recap to understand that one. If I can remember.

After breakfast at our chalet we headed to the longhouse for a game of mother-daughter broom ball. Most of us had not played before, and I guess you would usually play outside on ice, but we played inside. It was a lot of fun! We also learned that our kids are not above tripping and whacking us in the ankle with the stick. I'm not sure on what page of the Brownies manual that is covered.

Next up was the low ropes course. There were 2 types for us to try, and it was very entertaining trying to keep our balance. The first type involved walking along a tightrope while using a higher rope for balance. The second type had us pairing up with a similar sized partner, and facing each other we had to see how far along the tightropes we could move. The 2 ropes gradually spread further apart, in a V as you moved further along, and we were to steady ourselves by pressing our hands against our partner's hands. It all looked very similar to when Nerdguy would walk me home from the bar and I turned into jelly legs.

After lunch we boarded a school bus and headed to the Canada Summit Centre that was built for the G8 Summit. We went swimming and ice skating. We declared the hot tub to be the Mom Pool, and had a nice soak of our aching muscles.

Skating was an adventure as we hadn't been in 2 years. Molly and I had a collision but saved ourselves by doing a big bear hug. Luckily she was much more receptive to that than the random stranger was the last time I went skating.

Exhausted we came back to camp, ate dinner and had a bit of downtime to hang out and chat. It was nice to have some time to sit after such a busy day. I apparently stayed up way past my bedtime though since I slept right through my alarm today.

You can read about Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, and Day 5 but not about Day 6.

Girl Guide Camp - Day 3

2013-03-13T20:09:00.001-07:00

Day 3 wore me out so much that I couldn't even manage to write about it last night. I went to bed before 10:30, which I only do at home if I have one in a list of five diseases. Or avoiding the dishes.

I went on THREE hikes yesterday! If the number of hikes corresponds to the day number of camp, this will be the last thing that I write...because I will be dead. I should probably put someone in charge of burning this blog just...as a precaution.

The day started off with me finally visiting the showers. The showers are individual but the room where you hang your towel and keep your clothes is not. So showering at 6 in the morning is necessary for someone who even changes in the bathroom in their own home. After 3 attempts to get hot water from one of the showers I had success. I also said a prayer of thanks that I don't have to actually find water while we are camping, given that I can apparently barely manage an indoor plumbing system.

We had an early breakfast after that, and then we all went on a chickadee walk. We looked for animal tracks and compared them to the animal track sheets that our leader gave us. Grace was disappointed that she didn't find any weasel prints. I was just happy that we didn't see any bear tracks. The coyote prints were enough for me. At the end of our walk we tried to feed the chickadees, but there were no takers.

After snack we got to modge podge fabric onto pots, which was very fun and relaxing. Especially the part where you get to sit and peel dried glue off of your hands. Add some ditto-sniffing and it would have been just like elementary school in the eighties.

After lunch the moms got to learn how to snowshoe and go on a big hike. It was much harder than I originally expected it to be. Of course I naively thought we would be shuffling along flat ground, not scaling mountains at the edge of a mostly-thawed lake. Mountains may be a slight exaggeration...but only slightly. A few people fell and we thought we were going to lose at least one into the lake below. But we all made it back in one piece. It was really a lot of fun once I got the hang of it.

The moms got back early for snack, and this is what was there to greet us:

It was fun sitting and eating junk food with the other moms while we waited for the kids to get back from their games.

After snack the kids got a chance to try snowshoeing. And I got a chance to play the role of mean mom who lets their kid scream and cry because she wouldn't listen, and didn't like the snowshoes she ended up with.

It got ugly.

And then it got better.

Both kids did really well on the snowshoes! I was just walking, and fell on my face when my foot fell through the deep snow. Molly was laughing so hard that she fell over too.

After dinner I was very excited to crawl into my pjs and relax.

That's when I heard about the night hike.

And promptly registered for the witness relocation program.

Luckily we had a vote and decided to postpone that to another night. We had a pajama fashion show for the kids that one of the other moms organized. And the camp leader added a twist that the kids also had to dress the moms in as many layers of clothes as they could in 3 minutes. The winners got to paint all over the camp counselor's face and arms.

It was a tiring day, but another fun day at camp. I'm missing Nerdguy and Maggie though. She had her first day of camp today and I guess being told she was going to day camp wasn't exactly the "camping" that she has been asking for. And she has started telling everyone "Mommy's gone".

One kid having a giant meltdown, another crying because she was jealous that I was with the meltdown kid too much, and the third declaring that I am gone...tough PR for mom yesterday.

You can read about Day 1, Day 2, Day 4, and Day 5 but not about Day 6.

Girl Guide Camp - Day 2

2013-03-11T19:58:00.001-07:00

Wow, what a packed day! I think I might secretly be on Survivor. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for Jeff Probst. It also seems particularly cruel that they fill me with the 2 cases of cookies that we accidentally ate instead of sold, and then expect me to be able to hike up icy hills.

Today started out with breakfast at the lodge, and then we painted the sap buckets that they use here to collect sap from the maple trees.

After we were finished those we went out in the pouring rain to learn how to tap the trees. It was quite a hike, and we were drenched by the time we got inside to play some games. Hot soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and salad was a very welcomed lunch.

After lunch we were supposed to have a half hour of chill time before afternoon programming, but we dawdled too long eating our fudgsicles, so we had to rush back for dry clothes and get back to the lodge. This did not sit well with Molly. I tried talking to her about how she should take in all the experiences that she can while we are here...you can laze around at home! That wasn't working. So I asked if she could opt out of it, and that's when she sprung to life.

The moms had the choice of doing a photography hike or having free time. A hot shower, a nap, or reading were calling to me with the same volume of chocolate or fried cheese. But after all my big talk about joining in on the experiences, I had painted myself into a neat little corner hadn't I?

Grudgingly I put back on the soaking rain pants that I had removed only 5 minutes earlier. But I was so glad I went! We went in an icy tunnel that runs under the road; hiked up to the lookout where a heritage house is; saw fox prints and a tree that had been snacked on by a beaver or a porcupine; and laughed myself silly running in the deep snow. That was like one of those agility tests in and out of the tires. I may have signed up for the firefighter academy without realizing it.

After all of that we met up with the kids for snack and a choice of activities. Molly and I did bracelet making. My gimp bracelet turned out to be the length of my thumb.

I don't think I'm getting my bracelet badge.

Grace went to yoga with another mom and enjoyed that.

After dinner we had an auction. The leader gave each family monopoly money to bid on items. My girls spent close to $2,000 on 2 pylons, 4 aluminum pie plates, 1 glove, 2 used plastic pop bottles and a bunch of paper water cone cups.

I learned 3 things from their frantic throwing of cash:

1) My kids love garbage.

2) They have no idea what the value of a hard-earned monopoly dollar is.

3) I have to keep my credit cards away from Grace.

After the auction we found out that there was a purpose to the items we bought. We had to build an egg holder to protect the egg when it was dropped from the upstairs balcony.

I wanted to call Nerdguy the engineer to get advice. Not very "girl power" of me.

We figured something out in the end...the egg went in the glove, then inside the paper cones, all into the plastic cone, with a pie plate wrapped around it. We made a parachute out of another pie plate and the tape that everyone got.

We had success and our egg survived!!!!

And now it's time for bed because it starts all over again tomorrow!

You can read about Day 1, Day 3, Day 4, and Day 5 but not about Day 6.

Girl Guide Camp - Day 1

2013-03-10T19:28:00.001-07:00

I always wanted to be a Brownie when I was a kid. Mostly for the super cool brown dress with the attached pencil and change purse. And the badges of course. Who wouldn't want the badges?

Now camp...that is not something I ever had ANY desire to be sent away to.

But here I sit...30 some-odd years past the time that I was eligible to be a brownie...typing away on the bottom bunk...at Girl Guide Camp. There's no change purse, and instead of a pencil, I carry an iPhone, but for the next 5 days I get to experience the full Brownie experience.

I admit I was talked into the idea. When I first got the email about Mom and Me Camp I laughed in my computer's face at the ludicrous idea. And then a second email came in from one of Grace's friend's moms suggesting that a bunch of us sign up. So I immediately ran to Nerdguy to discuss whether or not she had hit her head. Of course he turned on me and said it was a fantastic idea and that I should book it.

Could they BOTH have hit their heads in the SAME day?

Seemed unlikely.

So I booked it.

And today Molly, Grace and I packed up and set off for camp. Maggie and Nerdguy stayed at home. I felt very sad when Maggie kept talking about camping and trying to pack her things with ours.

In the course of 5 minutes, Maggie stole Grace's sleeping bag and set it up in her room. She looks quite please with herself!

We got here in the late afternoon and had a big dinner down at the lodge, which was delicious. They have one person at each table be the "jumper" and they take care of all the fetching and clean-up. It's amazing how being assigned a special name in a group environment makes them eager to pitch in!

After that it was back to the cabin for some ice breaker games to get to know the other 9 families, which was a lot of fun.

Molly is very over-excited the past couple of days, and I don't think that an elephant tranquilizer would even make her blink. I am hoping she gets to sleep soon so that we can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for an 8am breakfast and maple-syrup collecting in the morning. If she doesn't settle down soon I may be tapping the oak trees to see if wine comes out.

You can read about Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, and Day 5 but not about Day 6.

Dora the Disaster

2013-03-07T18:50:00.002-08:00

Molly's running commentary while Maggie is watching Dora Checkup Day on TV:

"She doesn't look sick to me! I think she's faking."

"That's not a tree frog. It's an aquatic frog. Isn't she Diego's cousin? Shouldn't she know that?"

"She's only visited the doctor 3 times. Why are there so many stickers?"

"There's more stickers than there were before."

"Boy, Dora sure makes a big deal out of her doctor book."

I guess the magic of this day is lost:

Dora and Diego: The only people with larger heads than my family members.

My question is why she is picking apart things like sticker counts, but has just come to accept that a little girl wanders the forest with a monkey and a talking piece of paper that guides them through snake-filled swamps. And when they need something it's always inside the singing luggage that is in fact a bottomless pit. Molly should know from her own experience that it is always the mother's purse that has everything short of the space station inside.

But know, it is specific frog species...class...genus...oh whatever...boy I hope she doesn't proofread this and realize how sloppy my amphibian knowledge is...that really makes the show unrealistic.

I wonder if Nickelodeon will hire her as a fact checker. Or at least pay her off to shut up about their mistakes...I know I have been tempted.

There Was An Old Woman

2013-03-05T21:32:00.000-08:00

It's been a crazy week of meetings and stress.

And perhaps some mini-egg consumption.

But I definitely was NOT playing Candy Crush Saga. My facebook account was hacked. And by a strange coincidence, the children of whomever stole my online identity must attend school during the exact same hours as my children. Puzzling.

Lately I feel like I don't have just 3 children. I feel like this woman:

I found this setup in Maggie's room.

Just when I thought our house smelled...it could be worse! And by the way, that is a horrifying nursery rhyme! I looked it up on Wikipedia and distinctly do not remember the part about whipping the children.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children, she didn't know what to do;

She gave them some broth without any bread;

Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

My kids don't like soup either, but I usually just roll my eyes and tell them to eat it. I'm going to read this to them so that they realize how good they have it. This is like an early edition of Mommie Dearest.

I hope none of the Lalaloopsies try to use wire coat hangers.