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April 27, 2009

Knock knock...

IMG_5221I'm discovering that toddlers, like their sometimes neurotic yet always lovable mothers, seem to be obsessive by nature. Mads will pick something, fixate on it for a couple of months, and then up and decide she wants nothing more to do with it. The obsessions-of-the-day seem to be Abba music and knock-knock jokes.

Her Abba love affair started with the first (of 2,128 and counting) screening of grandma's Mama Mia dvd last month. She was immediately hooked. She's still half asleep each morning when she staggers out of her bedroom and mumbles, "Is it Mama Mia time now?" When the movie isn't on we've got Abba Gold blasting from the iPod or car stereo. When we're at the park we're treated to her own versions of Super Trouper and Does Your Mama Know.

If you have to listen to the same 10 songs ad nauseum for months on end, I guess you could do worse than Abba. That is, until you're waiting in line at Safeway one afternoon and your 3-year-old belts out, "You're so hot, teasing me!" Then things get awkward pretty quick.

If we're in the car and she's not singing Abba songs, chances are she's telling knock-knock jokes. Again, this isn't quite as awesomely entertaining as it may sound since the "jokes" usually involve her just naming whatever random things are in her line of vision at the moment. "Tree who?" "Tree-stop-sign." Ha... ha. It keeps going, back and forth, until she finally loses interest or I finally jump from the moving vehicle.

This weekend while the three of us were en route to get some ice cream she came up with this gem:

Mads: Knock knock
Me: Who's there?
Mads: Car
Me: Car who?
Mads: Car-juice-box. Now your turn!
Me: Knock knock...
Mads: Noo!!! Not you, the guy in the black shirt.
Me: Huh? What guy?
Mads: The guy right there in the black shirt (pointing).
Me: You mean... Daddy?
Mads: Yeah, Daddy. It's his turn.

Heh. I'm not sure when Daddy got downgraded to "the guy in the black shirt" but I admit, I laughed. A lot.

April 27, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBack

April 19, 2009

Wherever you go, there you are

Mads is at the in-laws, F is working and I am home all by myself. I repeat: All. By. Myself. Moms, when is the last time you had the house to yourself? It's such a rare occurrence I don't even know what I should do to fill the time.

Actually, that's not entirely true...

Here's what I should be doing: Cracking open my 1200-page book club novel, showering, catching up on work, menu planning this week's suppers, going to the gym, clearing Maddie's drawers of too-short pants and too-tight tops, vacuuming (note to self: Next time, get a NON-SHEDDING dog!!), laundry, laundry and more laundry. 

And here's what I am doing: Sitting in my pyjamas, eating some leftover Easter jelly beans, watching last night's SNL (Best of Amy Poehler - awesome), ordering Non-Slippy Hair Clippies (look how cute) and investing every ounce of spare energy into willing someone - anyone! - to show up at my front door with a double tall non-fat no foam latte. 

In my defence, I did spend about 15 minutes attempting to read The Power of Now, my latest (Oprah-approved, eek) foray into self-help and spiritual enlightenment. But I guess I'm not in the mood to be enlightened, because while I truly do appreciate the underlying message of living in the Now (capitalization is apparently essential), all that talk about my "pain-body" has me in a perpetual state of eye-rolling. It's dawning on me that I'm too innately sarcastic to be a candidate for enlightenment. I'm kind of sad about it. 

So until the need for coffee so overwhelms me that I am forced to drag myself from the couch, I'll be here, in the Now, in my PJs. 

Happy weekend!

April 19, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack

April 09, 2009

Happy belated birthday... love, Mommy

IMG_5189Amidst my Advil-induced eyepatch ramblings it seems I forgot to mention one important bit of information: Maddie is 3. It's official.

We marked the occasion with a small family dinner, but her party's been postponed until May. I figure this is the last year I can really get away with parental irresponsibility of that magnitude, so better take advantage of it while I can! Honestly, this last month and a bit has been awful beyond measure and I wanted her birthday to be separate from all of that. So May it is!

Mads and I were on on our own tonight so we had a GNO (that's Girls' Night Out, for you non-Twitter folk) at a pizza joint up the street. I had wine, she had milk. She knocked over a pitcher of water, I mopped it up. We coloured a picture of Elmo playing baseball and survived a mild tantrum that came when she suddenly - and might I add, bizarrely - thought it was essential to pull my shirt down and flash my bra to our fellow diners. We chatted about the Easter Bunny and made up a song about sunglasses. I kissed her cheek and she dramatically wiped it away.

F and I have had some memorable dates over the past 15 years but I have to say that tonight ranked up among the best of my life. Sorry, hon. 

I know that one day we'll fight. We'll probably say things we regret. She'll probably slam doors and I'll probably tell her that if she slams one more door... We'll probably make each other crazy. But right now - and I know this isn't all that cool or even particularly healthy from a parenting standpoint - we're just crazy about each other.

Every lovely and sweet-sounding cliche that's ever been said about being a mom - that's how I feel about my Mads. I'm a big believer in the power of words but sometimes it feels like even they're not enough - or maybe I just don't know the right ones. I love her. That's the biggest word I know, and the only one that comes even a tiny bit close.

Happy birthday, Mads.

April 9, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack

April 04, 2009

Fashion feeble

00210m I was walking through the mall today after a particularly rage-filled jaunt through the grocery store when I crossed paths with a girl who looked like she was from the future.

She had on white knee-high boots and a long sparkly purple sweater, a silver belt and really abnormally high hair. She looked cute, in an alien invasion kind of way. I gave her the old Star Trek Vulcan salute (in my head, of course) and carried on. 

Ugh, I am so out of touch. As I type this I'm wearing a sweater I bought for $8. And when I bought it, I was super pumped about the whole thing. $8! Woo hoo! I rock! But I'm starting to think that I all I'm rocking is this thin, itchy, horizontal striped sweater that looks exactly like what an $8 sweater should look like. What's happened to me? 

I'm not saying I was ever a trendsetter, because I wasn't. I tend to pick up on a trend about 21 months after it passes. But at least I was in the same general decade as a trend. This sweater has not been trend-worthy since, oh, never. Never ever. 

Mads, on the other hand, has a pretty kick-ass wardrobe. She's got the tunics and the tights and the cardigans; The skinny jeans and (fake) Uggs and the party dresses. It seems I've invested every last inch of my fashion instinct into her, and let's just say there wasn't enough to go around. 

Ah well. I suppose she can be the adorable one, I was getting sick of it anyways. Besides, it's a lot easier to dress adorable when you're a size 3T than a size... um, never mind. 

April 4, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack

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"Having a two-year-old is like having a blender that you don't have the top for." ~Jerry Seinfeld.

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