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January 31, 2008

Today's time-out...

I think I may have poisoned Mads and I with my cooking last night, we both spent the night feeling kind of cruddy. Sigh. Why do I bother with these attempts at domesticity?

It's a very odd assortment of gossip news today...

Time for my coffee...

January 31, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 30, 2008

Day 661: My so-called life

Your stories of drunken parenting made me feel a bit better - at least I know I am in good company. A friend suggested I start buying my wine in juicebox format - apparently there is such a thing! - but I worry I would be tempted to bring it in to work with my lunch and somehow have a feeling that would end badly. So I'll just have to learn to live with the embarrassment.

Jan_engl_bay_2_3Anyways, as I write this I am stuck on a bus in a snowstorm on my way to work. I'm sitting here like a sweaty sardine listening to Johnny Cash (that's what happens when I let my husband borrow my iPod) and having far too much time to think.

What I'm thinking about, specifically, is my life, and how I really need to do something to shake it up. Do you know what the highlight of my weekend was? Going to the grocery store and seeing that the Valentine's Day candy was out in the bulk bins. I was beyond excited. Thrilled, almost. I had to resist the urge to call somebody - anybody - to share the news. When rotating holiday candy becomes a big event in your life, you know you've got a problem.

Through all those months of struggling to get Mads on a schedule it didn't really occur to me that I was putting myself on one, too. Wake up, TV, breakfast, out, snack, home, lunch, nap, snack, play, dinner, bath, bed. Throw a few diapers in there. Do that twice and there's your weekend. Replace the middle bit with the word "work" and you've got the week. The thing is, I actually enjoy passing my days this way. It's just that they're always the same.

I vaguely recall a time when I had stories to tell that did not induce a comatose state, but these days "What did you do this weekend?" is becoming a dreaded question. It inevitably leads to an answer along the lines of...

"Um, not much. Oh, Maddie and I took a walk to the mailbox and along the way she found a rock and she was pretending it was a piece of cheese, she kept smelling it and saying, "Chee! Nummy!" It was so funny..."

I guess you had to be there, because it's about then that the person's eyes glaze over and I wonder how I got so painfully boring. Because while to me this charming story clearly showcases Maddie's pretend play development - milestone #142 for those keeping track! - to everyone else I guess it's just another kid licking a rock.

So, long story short, I need to do something fun, something that will give me a few stories to tell. Maybe get another tattoo. Or become a groupie - do they have part time groupie positions? Or take up skydiving. Except I really am not a fan of heights. Hmmm.

Or maybe I just need to get off this bus. Surely being packed into a public bus that smells oddly of old nachos while listening to Johnny Cash sing about murdering somebody is enough to make anybody a tiny bit depressed.

January 30, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack

January 29, 2008

Today's time-out...

Valentine's Day is killing me. It's still weeks away and I'm already sick from all the candy I've been eating. But it's soo good.

January 29, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 28, 2008

Today's time-out...

Thanks to all of you who jumped on board with the "drunken whore" part of my last post. That really warms my heart, girls. Kidding, your comments gave me a good laugh!

Here's what's new and gossip-worthy...

January 28, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 26, 2008

Day 657: OMG I'm, like, SO embarassed

January_faces_1_7So Maddie has taken to mortifying me in public. Apparently it's her new favourite game. As parents, I think we've earned the right to embarass our kids. It's the trade-off. We spend a couple of years covered in spit-up and elbow-deep in poopy diapers and in exchange we get to awkwardly flirt with the gym teacher at their grade 7 school dance and show up on the playground in our housecoats waving forgotten mittens and homemade lunches. Fair's fair, right?

But Maddie must have misread the guidebook, because these days I am the one who ends up cringing and red-faced. She has two new tricks that she finds particularly fun.

The first is that she likes to ask every man we come across if he is her father. It started a few weeks ago when she showed me some guy in a magazine ad and said, "Daddy?" I must have laughed - crucial error on my part, I know - and so now she thinks it is the best game ever. So we'll be at the mall, at the grocery store, the park and she will point to random men as they pass and look at me and say, "Daddy? Daddy??" And I'll say, "No Mads, that's not your Daddy." In the half hour it takes to walk to the 7-11 and back she will ask - loudly, might I add - if about 20 different strangers are her father. I feel like the town whore. The only consolation is the terror that briefly appears in a few of their eyes as they suddenly consider a future of child support payments.

The other is admittedly slightly less random. As you may know by now, I enjoy the odd glass of wine. Okay, fine, I enjoy a nightly glass of wine. I don't pretend to be a connoisseur , more often than not it comes from a box in the fridge. But it is a very important part of my evening dinner preparation ritual. It seems Mads has noticed. When she sees wine glasses in the dish rack or, god help me, in the window of a store she points at them and happily yells "Mommy!" The other day at Sears she came tottering over to the till holding up a plastic wine glass she'd found, smiling and singing, "Mommy, mommy, mommy..."

So it seems I'm not just a tramp, but a drunk one at that. Nice, really nice.

Well, I'll remember this. And she'd better prepare herself, I've already started shopping for something tight and sequinned to wear to her graduation.

(ps - Michelle, I would love to live on your street! That sounds like Melrose Place, without all the murder and sleaze. ;) I've lived on my street for my entire life and barely know a soul...)

January 26, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Today's time-out...

Word on the street is that Scarlett Johanssen and Ryan Reynolds are engaged. Not my street, because nobody talks to eachother on my street. But that is definitely the word on some other, friendlier, gossipy street. I wish I lived on that street.

Maddie's been hanging out with The Wiggles for the past 20 minutes, and I'm still not entirely convinced they're a good influence. Off to do some serious mothering...

Happy weekend!

January 26, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

January 25, 2008

Today's time-out...

Maybe babies are among today's rumors....

And Heath Ledger's family remembers a loving, talented and unique man

January 25, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 24, 2008

Today's time-out...

Still so sad about Heath Ledger. Unreasonably sad, really, seeing as I of course didn't know him. I'm not usually one to co-opt others' grief, but I think this time it has something to do with Maddie being so close in age to his daughter Matilda. My heart just breaks for her. And for him, not being able to watch his baby grow up.

  • Remembering Heath Ledger
  • Halle's got a new do (and a giant baby belly)
  • No nudity for Reese
  • January 24, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

    January 22, 2008

    Today's time-out...

    It makes me so sad to even write this news... Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment this afternoon.

    I just think about his daughter Matilda, she is just 6 months older than Mads. They always looked so sweet together in pictures, he seemed to love being a daddy. This one is my favourite.

    So tragic.

    Read the stories here and here.

    January 22, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

    Day 653: Bringing up girls

    While trolling the gossip sites last week I came across this picture that I haven't been able to get out of my head.

    I really have no clue who this person is, but apparently her name is Shauna Sands and those are her girls. The kids, I mean, not the... other girls. If I had to take a wild guess, I would say that her quasi-fame and fortune derives from either Playboy or some other form of, ahem, adult entertainment. I know, we really shouldn’t judge a book by its plastic cover, but admit it – sometimes you can just tell, no? If a book has Fabio on the cover, you pretty much know what you’re in for.

    Jan_engl_bay_4But I digress, yet again. So I came across this picture Shauna and her daughters at some fashion show in LA earlier this month and it has haunted me ever since. I think it’s in part because it gives off that creepy pageant vibe, all those girls with their clouds of hair and glossy lips winking and shimmying and looking nothing like children should. And it of course disturbs me to see grade-school aged kids caked over with blue eyeshadow and frosted lips. But mostly it reminds me yet again of the perils of raising a daughter these days.

    I don’t think Shauna and I would have much fun on a playdate. We seem to fall on the opposite extremes of the spectrum. While she likes glamming her girls up, I avoid it at all costs. Sure, like most moms I am guilty of dressing Maddie in trendy plaid skirts and stretch dark denim and forcing hair clips into her non-existent locks. But I have strict rules: Nothing that says “Princess” or “Glamour girl” or “Diva” or anything along those lines. No pants with writing scrawled across the bum. No make-up, other than a touch of foundation and mascara. (Just making sure you’re paying attention… No make-up, of course.)

    In truth I suppose Shauna and I are both a bit crazy. While the sight of those girls all dolled up like that horrifies me somewhat, I doubt that a pink princess T-shirt and bit of nail polish would determine the path of the rest of Maddie’s life. But I am terrified of stepping foot on that slippery slope. I’m terrified of her being the 14-year-old girl at the mall in the crop top and hot pants with “Juicy” across the bum, the girl with manufactured Wonderbra cleavage and thick black eyeliner weighing down her sparkling eyes.

    The thing is, for a moment or two I’m sure she will think that she is that girl. Didn’t we all, at some point? I have vague recollections of bravely wearing a tiny belly-baring T-shirt to high school and then spending the entire day tugging it down and wishing I could go home and change. Because even though I briefly wished I was the girl all the boys stared at, deep down I knew there were other things that mattered more.

    So I guess in the end it’s what you put into them rather than what you put on them that counts. But all that being said, I think I'll keep Mads in her long-sleeved "I ♥ Mom" T-shirt for as long as I can.

    January 22, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack

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