Showing posts from June, 2009

Stuff I've Lost

Last night, I had a mini meltdown of sorts. Luckily, the Captain slept through it. If he hadn't, here is what our conversation would've looked like: Captain: What's the matter? Me: I don't want to tell you. Captain: (already getting cranky) Great, a guessing game. Are you in love with another man? Me: Yes, but he lives in Hollywood, so it's a long-distance thing, and totally one-sided. Captain: What's the matter? Me: I think I'm sad about Michael Jackson. Captain:(rolling over and going back to sleep) Oh, for the love of God... And then I'd have heard about how I woke him up for nothing over breakfast this morning. So, all in all, it's best that I deal with these things while he sleeps through it. I realized yesterday that my three remaining pieces of memorabilia may be lost. Firstly, there's the glove. It was possibly the thing that got me hooked on crafting in the first place. It came in a kit. A white cotton glove and some silver glitter glue

The Power of Three

I think it's safe to say that I don't get topical too much, particularly regarding celebrities. I'm just too old to keep up with that stuff. But it's been a weird week. When I was 11, and Michael Jackson was still black, I wanted to be the girl in the Thriller video . That part at the end where he throws his arm over her shoulder, then turns around and flashes the evil yellow-eyed smile was the stuff of my pre-teen daydreams. Then things got say the least. So the big thing I've taken from the life of Michael Jackson is that it is not a parent's right to exploit the things that make his or her children unique and special. That's how you turn your kid's life into a circus. Today, I moonwalk out of respect. Farrah Fawcett was kind of overshadowed yesterday by Michael, which is too bad because she was awesome. Coincidentally, a few days ago, I had this urge to feather my hair and be one of Charlie's Angels , so I found the old logo from the

Reality, You Fail Me

Thank goodness for books. Yesterday a debate of sorts broke out on Facebook. Was it a political debate, you might ask? Something to do with world hunger? World peace? Universal health care? How about education? If you guessed any of those (or the next million important current issues on your own personal list), you'd be sadly mistaken. Yesterday's fight was about Jon and Kate . Here's how it started. Brother #2 wrote a status update about an episode he'd just watched. It was a controversial comment (assuming you care about these sorts of things) taking sides with one of these two idiots, and blasting the other. But the response it sparked kind of made me flinch. People either agreed or didn't, and then things seemed to get a little heated, and finally I even jumped in to play devil's advocate, which I shouldn't have. I can only just barely stand to watch the highlights of that show on youtube , though it does save me from having to sit through a full hour of

Man's Other Best Friend

In recent years, my bookishness has gone by the wayside. When I was young, I read a lot. I had (and still have) many, many books. I liked reading. But then things got kind of busy. When I was teaching, I'd come home at the end of the day feeling like my brain was that fried egg they used in the 80's to turn us all off of drugs, and I'd turn on the TV and let it get even softer. Then the kids came along, and every minute of my day was taken up with feeding and changing and cuddling them, or else folding the piles and piles and piles of laundry their existence had suddenly created. The idea of trying to follow any kind of plot in broken-up one-page increments seemed laughable, and more than a little pointless. I subscribe to magazines and our small-town weekly newspaper, so I'm not yet fully illiterate. But when it comes to novels or non-fiction books of any length, I realized recently that I could be doing a lot better. My kids both love their books, and they should see

Taking Care

It's been a crazy week! My kids never get ear infections or things that require antibiotics, and I'm certainly thankful for that. But they do seem to acquire more than their fair share of stomach bugs. This past week, Rosemary's Baby brought home one last stomach bug before school was out. And, yet again, I caught it. I'm just fine now, and the Captain returned home this morning, so life couldn't be better. But because this was the fifth stomach bug for me in less than two years, and because four of those bugs hit while the Captain was away, I've determined that, with a six-month deployment in our near future, I need to start taking better care of myself when I'm playing the role of single parent. When I'm on my own here, I tend to cut myself slack in all the wrong areas. I'm betting a lot of moms, military and otherwise, can identify with this one. You want to be the best parent you can be, so you focus on the kids, and then you use that to justify

Two Projects for Teachers

Well, it's that time of year again. Nursery school is just about done for Rosemary's Baby, and Firstborn has a couple of weeks left as a kindergartener. The countdown is on! I needed to make a quick thank-you for Rosemary's Baby's three wonderful teachers, so I whipped up some tags and attached them to bags of homemade cookies. A very quick and easy project! Firstborn just has the one teacher day-to-day, though I'll be throwing something together for the school resource teacher and his beloved gym teacher before the end of the month as well. I wanted to make a special card for his teacher because she's made his first year of school an incredibly positive experience for him, and I know all too well what an exhausting job she has. I saw the inspiration for this card in the latest copy of Paper Crafts magazine, and I just happened to have a zillion white flowers punched out (I can't remember why. Motherhood has erased my memory). In future, I'd use a more

Six Things That Make Me Happy

I recently came across a challenge on this blog to come up with six seemingly unimportant things that make me happy. And since I love writing prompts of all kinds, I immediately started thinking about my six things. 1. Satellite Radio : I know I talk about this a lot, and I'm as surprised as anyone that I love it as much as I do. When the Captain first brought up the idea of getting it a few years ago, my response was that if I wasn't willing to get cable, why on earth would I pay for radio?! But when I heard it later for the first time at someone else's house, it took me no more than 15 minutes to be completely convinced. Whether I'm making bread in the kitchen or driving down the back roads of Manitoba, Sirius is my constant companion, and it never lets me down. If I want to listen to cheesy 70's pop, there's a station for that. Classic rock, contemporary country, 80's new wave, or kids stuff for Firstborn and Rosemary's Baby--Sirius has it all. I eve

The Chain Letter, The Dessert, and The Four-Legged Visitor

First up, we have what I think is possibly the most misguided thing any parent has ever come up with. Yesterday, after hitting Capital City to catch up with a visiting friend I haven't seen in over ten years, I hit the post office to pick up my mail. Amongst it all was a letter for Firstborn, which I immediately recognized as a party invitation we've been eagerly awaiting. So I gave him the mail unopened, and went about the business of sifting through my own. In case you're wondering, there were no party invitations for me. But that's okay. When Firstborn squealed with delight, I turned to find him holding a new pack of stickers and two photocopied pages. In with the party invitation was a chain letter telling Firstborn he was part of a "sticker club" and to send packs of stickers to a child listed on the letter, the sender, and six new friends, with photocopies of the letter and the sender's mailing info on it so these six friends could send him his stick

Cheater, Cheater

Years ago, I got cheated on by a boyfriend. I look back on it now as a gift from God, a true blessing. We were incredibly wrong for each other and he did me such a huge favour. Before he cheated, we could well have been on the path to marrying each other because nobody better was available. There's no denying that, for me, this was a very lucky escape. In talking to people lately, it has occurred to me that this really isn't that uncommon a problem. In the 90's, every other episode of Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones , and every mindless talk show in between, showcased mullet-headed, toothless guys in ripped jeans and wife-beater tank tops "revealing" their infidelities to women who would never have the brainpower to come to the conclusion on their own, and would still never leave this paragon of male excellence because she "loved him". Then the other woman would come out, and a brawl would ensue, complete with post-production "bleeps" every thr