My Favorite Things

In honor of my daughters 20th birthday, I decided to come up with a list of some of my most favorite moments over the past 20 years. Of course there are hundreds more, but because I'm getting old and usually my moments of remembrance occur when I get up for a pee in the middle of the night and vanish by morning, these are what you get . . .

20.       The way you sound like a Star Wars fighter machine when you sneeze.  Pew Pew Pew … (Clearly I’m not up on my Star Wars lingo – but I know you know what I mean)

19.       You have a killer ‘throwing arm’ – it impresses me every time I see you throw a baseball or football.

18.       The way you interact with little kids – you are enthusiastic and make them feel special.

17.       When you were three and Grandma was showing you the old chicken house, you looked inside, saw an old cow skull, and said  very seriously “Grandma, I think your chickens are extinct”.

16.       When driving through the mountains, you were in awe of all the “Hindu’s” (Hoodoos)

 

A Drumheller Hoodoo

15.       The picture you drew when you were in Kindergarten that showed me lying on the ground with a wine bottle in my hand and surrounded by empties that was captioned “My Mom likes to drink wine”.

14.       When you were 5 and we took you to Costco, and you laid in the cart and hollered “Help! Someone let me out of this cage!” the entire time we were there.

13.       Your childhood dream to be a ‘window washer’ just so you could hang off tall buildings like Spiderman.

12.       When you decided to participate in the High Jump at track and field but didn’t realize you couldn’t dive over the bar.

11.       When you sing, my heart soars. I miss hearing you every single day.

10.       When you were 6, you told me you figured you could only handle living with me until you were 12, at which point you were going to ‘make it on my own’.

9.         Trying to explain to you why you couldn’t keep 25 bumblee bee caterpillars in your closet corner – and the subsequent attempt to explain why they were ‘all shriveled up like that’.

8.         The day you tried for hours to ‘catch’ a gopher just so you could have a pet.

7.         The way your eyes light up when you are telling a story, or flashing a smile.

6.         During the last baseball game of the year (age 8), you belted out the “Star Spangled Banner” for the entire duration of the third inning. A proud Canadian indeed ;)

5.         Watching you jump off the moving ride on mower and sprinting across the yard because you saw a spider.

4.         That time you went to school and told everyone that we went to a party on the weekend, and I brought 'Cocaine'. We worked VERY hard at sounding out the word "Kokanee" from that moment forward. 

3.         The look on your face when you bit into a chocolate and discovered it was filled with Brandy.

2.         On your first day at your new daycare, you told all the teachers that you needed to behave or “my Mom will find someone to adopted me”.

1.         And my most favorite is when you wrap your arms around me and say “I love you Mom”.

I’ll love you forever,

I’ll like you for always,

As long as I am living –

My baby you’ll be.

Thanks Robert Munsch for the words I will

always sing to my beautiful daughter :) ...

and reminding me that it is ok to drive across town

with a ladder on my car and do a B&E as long as I give 

my big girl a snuggle and a song ;)

Today You Are 20

Today you are 20 ...

How is it possible that the newborn baby with a wide eyed stare has now become such a beautiful  woman?

That the strong willed toddler who knew what she wanted is now the woman who refuses to give up or give in?

That the giggling girl has evolved into the woman who engages others with her smiles and laughter?

That the bright eyed pre-teen with a passion for being on stage has become a woman who can captivate her audience - whether onstage or not?

That the heartbroken teenager is now the woman who comforts and cares for those whose hearts are wounded?


In honor of this very special day, I would like to remind you of this ...

You are WONDERFUL.

              You are BEAUTIFUL.

                            You are AMAZING.

                                          You are LOVED.

Happy Birthday my beautiful daughter!

Mom's Wise Words

I've come to the conclusion that I don't actually have children living in my house. I have for years affectionately referred to them as my 'weapons of mass destruction'; and I'm starting to think my Mom might have been on to something . . .

You see, my Mom always told me when I was not listening and/or was misbehaving to "be careful, because what you choose to do now will come back to haunt you ten times worse when you have your own children". At least I think that's what she said ... truth be told, I wasn't really listening ...

I'm realizing she had a point though. Because things are at least ten times worse with my own children - or so it sometimes seems ... (Well, unless we take into account that whole infamous ziploc bag flour fight of 1984 with my sister ... seriously, who knew the bags would explode so easily?!? And that flour is so hard to clean up?!?)

Case in point - we did a lot of outside work these past couple of weekends. We have 4.5 acres - so when I say a lot of outside work, I really mean it. As I'm sure is true for most of you, when outside work is being done, inside work is generally not - unless you are some super human and can do both at once, in which case, please call me immediately - I will pay you an amount beyond your wildest dreams to come and live in my house. No really, I will. (Call me.)

That isn't to say the house was a total disaster, but it definitely hasn't been kept up like when I was hibernating stuck inside during the winter months. It was all good until Saturday, when some pre-programmed search and destroy code was remotely activated (in honor of Mother's Day I'm fairly certain) and all heck broke loose - culminating in the simultaneous clearing of each and every shelf of its contents in my office, emptying the rubbermaid bin of Lego all over the basement, and half eaten yogurt tubes stashed like land mines in various locations around the house. 

Then, in a stroke of pure luck genius, a kitchen chair was pushed over onto the floor with such force that an expensive decorative bowl was launched into the air from the resulting vibration, shattering into 'a thousand million pieces' throughout the kitchen and down the basement stairs. (I'm throwing 'thousand million pieces' in as an ode to my own Mom, who once exclaimed that this was how my Uncle's brand new cassette player would end up if he didn't quit sneaking up on her and secretly making recordings. My sister is laughing out loud right now. My Mom on the other hand, probably isn't ... it's always been kind of a sore spot. That and the STOP sign she ran in Blackfalds when we were 5. Who knew something like that would be so memorable for a little kid?!?)

Part of me hopes that Mom was right - if you behave badly as a kid, you will pay for it later with your own children. Sweet revenge if you will - much like the look of victory on her face when we told her we were pregnant with twins ... 

But then I lay awake at night thinking about how terrible active and exuberant my grandchildren could be - and because the kids are talking about having big families (who doesn't want to dream of having 10 kids when you are 6), there will be lots of them running around and Lord knows WHAT could happen?! It would be like my field of gophers - only I probably couldn't shoot a pellet gun at them to make them go away ... or maybe I could, because 'what happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's', right? Especially if you give them cookies in exchange for their silence. Ok, I wouldn't really shoot at them - the kids I mean, that would just be cruel. The gophers on the other hand are fair game.

At any rate, it's a good thing my little weapons of mass destruction come in cute little packages that always remember to tell me how much they love me when I put them to bed at night. Because I sure do love them, despite their efforts to drive me crazy. Just like my Mom loves me even when I tease her a little bit ... right Mom? 

Mom? 

Yeah, I might be getting what I deserve ;)

Have You Seen This Key?

MISSING

Have you seen this key?

BACKGROUND

Late Sunday, this key was used to gain entry to the family truck and move it to a more accessible location so its owner's wife would be able to use the vehicle during the week. Upon preparing to leave the house Monday morning, owner's wife was unable to locate said key.

As the owner assures his wife the key is not in his possession, one can only take a guess as to its actual location. Of particular interest is the fact that this is the fourth - yes 4th - key for this vehicle that has made a run for it.

Wife has checked the usual key hangouts (coat and pants pockets, night stand, dresser, under bed, bookshelf, etc.) and only been able to find receipts, left over pennies, and dust bunnies - none of which will start a truck.

If you or someone you know has information that may assist in locating any one of the missing keys, please let wife know.

Thank you in advance for your assistance. 

My Panties are Having an Identity Crisis

"Houston, we have a problem."

That's what I felt like saying the other day when something really uncomfortable happened. I'm not talking emotionally uncomfortable. I'm not talking intellectually uncomfortable. I'm talking physically uncomfortable. The kind of physical discomfort that arises from one's panties having an identity crisis.

We've all had this happen, yes?

We buy lacy and frilly panties for those 'special occasions', maybe some over priced mini pieces of silk or cotton linked together by elastic the width of dental floss so we can look or feel uber sexy for a particular moment in time. When we put these undergarments on, we may experience a certain degree of ... ahem ... irritation. We expect this and are willing to put up with it.

Don't get me wrong, in my younger years, I often wore what I suppose could technically be classified as 'underwear' because they were 'worn under' your clothes - but let's be honest, it was only for show. Indeed, on some occasions, I didn't even wear underwear (bet you're glad you read that, hey Mom?), because really, was there much difference between au naturel and a thong? I guess at that time I simply got used to having a string running up my butt crack, and it just didn't bother me.

Flash forward four children and some major growth in the rear sector. I'm not quite to the 'granny panty' stage by any means - but I swear the only thongs you will ever see on me will be found on my feet. That isn't to say I haven't tried to go back - but it turns out that multiple pregnancies have made my butt crack a bit more 'sensitive' - and let's face it, if my a$$ isn't comfortable, neither am I.

So instead, I choose to wear 'comfortable' panties, and I'm ok with that. They work for me. Most of the time. Until recently, when one rogue pair seems to have decided it is destined for more.

A most unlikely offender.

I'm not sure what exactly happened. Perhaps it's because I have lost a lot of weight. Perhaps they are getting old and the elastic isn't quite as strong as it used to be. Perhaps it was because, in the very fabric of their being, these panties just needed a hug that could only be delivered by being squished between two hot and sweaty a$$ cheeks while their owner strolled along the Vegas Strip.

Whatever the reason, these suckers wedged up my butt so high I wasn't sure they were even going to be retrievable. I would try to discourage them by giving a gentle tug when I was certain no one was looking; however minutes later they would be right back up there, leaving me feeling like I should be out frolicking freely in the ocean rather than standing in the desert trying to subtly declutter my crack.

image from fanpop.com

The more we walked, the worse it got. My a$$ was NOT happy, and consequently, neither was I. In the end, while I would like to support these panties in their quest for whatever it is they are seeking, I'm afraid that, for the time being, they will have to be relegated to the bottom of the panty pile. The a$$ has spoken.

Husbands Say the Darndest Things

The other day my husband and I were on our way to town to do some shopping. For most of the trip, he proceeded to tell me about a new and creative business opportunity he had been thinking about. It was intriguing.

I commented that it would be great to possibly start a business someday, and he told me how great I would be at it.

Then he said - and I quote "I'm sure you'd be great at something - we just have to figure out what it is".

Image from www.socialnatural.com

I looked over at him and smiled. "Sounded a lot better in your head, didn't it?"

He nodded sheepishly.

I'm not EVER letting him forget this one - because, as it turns out, remembering stupid shit like this is one thing I am really great at ;)

What Do You Give a Guy Who Has Everything?

It's the age old question really. When somebody already has everything he/she needs, what on earth do you do for a gift when a special occasion arises?

I'm struggling with this as I write. It is our Anniversary next week, and my husband has, well, everything he needs or wants. For the most part anyways. And so, I am left to my own devices.

I conducted a little research - and noted that Hugh Hefner's new bride created a beautiful 3D collage of everything he enjoys - including a container of Strawberry Hagen-Daz ice cream ... apparently he loved it (the guy is 87 years old and wears pyjama's every single day - of course he's going to love it - he's weird!). I somehow don't think a gift like this is going to fly in my house though. My husband would probably mistake it for garbage piling up on the counter instead of a meaningful and thoughtful gift. Although it would necessitate a trip to the dump, which would of course, make him happy. Never know what you might find at the dump - glorious treasures often await.

So I got to thinking a little harder. My husband likes hot sauce - loves hot sauce as a matter of fact. I could head on down to a specialty store and pick up some unique sauce that would incinerate his stomach lining - cause nothing says love quite like a belly ache and subsequent fire in the hole. But then I came across this on Twitter, and thought, hmmm, I don't even have to go to a specialty store. No, I can just head on over to Sobey's and pick some of this stuff up . . .

Professor Phardtpounders has done it again!

At $8.99, it's a great deal, don't you think?

On second thought, I'm not so sure I want to put up with what would result from the back end of this gift, so perhaps I'll save that for another day ... like when I'm really angry with him and he's headed back to work the next day.

I thought some more. We are heading out on a hot holiday right away, and because my hubs has lost a lot of weight, his swimsuit no longer fits him properly. He swears he can still wear it; however I'm not so sure that it will be a good scene when he goes to get out of the pool and his trunks fall to his ankles. He might be OK with it, but I'm pretty sure the other pool patrons would not be. Perhaps a new suit would be an option? Thankfully a Facebook friend posted these the other day - they come in a multitude of colors as you can see; however I'm not so sure about the coverage ...

Then again, maybe not ....

I'm fresh out of ideas. I guess he's going to have to live with a family that loves him dearly as his gift this year. Unless you have some ideas you'd like to share ....