Scattered Roundup of Wrong Things

Posted on 7/26/2008 by cheesefairy

First o’ all: I turned on the TV recently. Wrong. It’s July. There’s nothing on. Except the shows that are on after my bedtime, like Swingtown, of which I enjoyed the first episode so record on, you crazy PVR. Instead of anything even trashily interesting, I was subjected to the following items for sale which commercials have probably been in rotation for at least 3 months but I have not seen them:

Chocolate “drizzle”

WTF Tim Hortons? OK, in general, WTF Tim Hortons. But in this case, WTF – your Iced Capp Supreme features chocolate DRIZZLE? It’s not sauce. It’s not topping. It’s not syrup. It’s drizzle. And you want me to eat it.

No. I will not eat it, Tim Hortons. Drizzle is not food. And it super-jet-engine isn’t dessert.

A sandwich at Subway made with lobster

Is it just me or is the thought of anything seafood related being sold under those fluorescent lights within the bright yellow enclave that is Subway, mashed together with random toppings by a lightly gloved, minimum-waged and rightly disgruntled sandwich “artist” (have, in my life, met just one actual artist, who wrote my name in mustard on my sandwich) just a brief hop before “food poisoning so bad you will write about it on your weblog but you will still be on the toilet while you do so”?

Tampons now give you 360 degree protection. (when 180 degrees just ISN’T ENOUGH)

The hypothesis is that Active Women need clingier tampons. Because if you are doing your favourite sport (presumably not horseback riding, which is still safe to do with a regular tampon, just like those little booklets from grade 6 told us, although not ever having horseback rid whilst menstruating I do have to say I think the additional crotch protection of a “bulky pad” would be appreciated rather than the rhythmic “joust! joust!” of a tampon every time you slap your butt down on that saddle but hey, like I said, not an equestrianne over here.) there is the slim (to none?) chance that your tampon will just … what? Drop out? Like I said to SA, only if you’ve had 7 kids will that happen and if you have 7 kids odds are you’re not exercising or that just getting up in the morning is exercise enough not to mention you probably haven’t had need for a tampon in at least 7 years. Perhaps in today’s world of Extreme Sport, there are sports where you might lose a tampon. But knowing what I know about the musculature involved in the vaginal canal, I really hope no Sport is that Extreme.

Dear feminine product people: It’s been a while, I know, since I wrote. But I still hate you and your scare mongering.
Love, cheesefairy

The celebrity show hostess in her 17 lbs of makeup and tight clothes on national TV pitying Miley Cyrus (who?) because she (Miley) is being forced by Hollywood to Grow Up Too Fast as evidenced by her (Miley’s) recent bare torsoed cover of Vanity Fair. Followed by panel discussion of same. Same old same old kids today nonsense.

How about you put your sweats on and throw your hair in a ponytail and come to work without makeup. If they still let you go on the air, then you can go ahead and lead the young girls of today by example by letting your journalistic skills speak for themselves without your Hotness muddying the waters.

Not on TV but at the park and oh were my nards chafed.

Woman with her daughter, roughly 2.5? years old walks past me and Trombone, who is digging in the sand pile. The sand pile features those sit-on-em little, manual bulldozers. For digging in the sand. The little girl heads over full tilt and her mom grabs her hand and says, “Oh, those are kind of boyish. Let’s go over to the swings.”

Good gravy. I can’t believe you just said that. Is this swing to the head GIRLISH enough for you?

Posted in blood, drink, food, television | 6 Comments

Three From Today

Posted on 7/23/2008 by cheesefairy

The Role of the Civil Servant in Tonight’s Performance Will be Played by: Trombone!

Trombone: Goodbye mummy. (runs to the other end of the house and sits in front of the front door)
Me: Goodbye. Where are you going?
Trombone: To work. I have my laptop. I am busy.
Me: Oh good.
Trombone: I have keys.
Me: Oh good.
Trombone: I have coffee.
Me: Is it coffee break time?
Trombone: It is! And now I am coming home!

Hey if you can’t hold up your end of the conversation I’ll find someone who can

Woman outside the store eyes the buggy: Wow, you’ve got TWO in there
Me: Yep
Woman (jovial): My daughter’s baby is 10 weeks old. She’s already talking about having the next one.
Me (dead serious): Would you like my opinion on that?
Woman snickers, crosses at the light.
Me, muttering under breath: She should keep her pants on. And keep those legs locked tight.
Man smoking cigarette nearby: Amen, sister.

I know. I am a crude, horrible person. It’s the water out here in the Mizzle. It crudifies.

Sprog Nation: Represent!

Woman shows up at the park with two toddlers in a buggy and one four year old. Eventually they make their way to the swingset where Trombone is swinging, possibly forever. Kid loves swinging. Anyway.

Me nodding at toddlers: Are they twins?
Her: Oh yeah. I’m not *that* crazy…
Me: Hey, we’re all a little crazy
Her: Well I certainly am now.
Me: Right.

Twin 2 year olds and a four year old and you are making polite conversation at the park? The Five Blades Award of the Day goes to you, lady. Pick it up at the front desk.

Posted in new westminster, outside, threes, trombone, two! children! | 2 Comments

Excerpts from My Upcoming Self-Help Book

Posted on 7/20/2008 by cheesefairy

I used to have a card, I think it was a birthday card someone gave me, that said, “Everything I need to know I learned from my dog.” Maybe you know the one. “Smell everything that interests you.” “Eat and sleep and play all the time.” “Look for cuddles.” I don’t remember if it said, “Lick your own butt” too. Anyway, it was cute. Here’s my version: Everything I Need to Know I Learned from my Toddler.

Lesson one: If you say “I WANT” something enough, maybe you’ll get it. So keep trying.
Lesson two: If “I WANT” doesn’t work, try rephrasing the question. Try, “I would like,” or even, “Would you like?” as variations on “I WANT.” The phrasing is not as important as the repetition.
Lesson three: Get up early and go to bed late. That way you will have more hours in the day to try and get the thing you want.
Lesson four: If you love something, think about it all the time. Talk about it all the time. Make it so much a part of your world that you are inseparable from it and it from you. You are one.
Lesson five: Fear nothing until it has actually hurt you.

I have been watching Trombone lately and reframing his irritating behavior, see above, so that it is positive. That way I want to run away less. (Of course, it is positive and perfectly normal, it is helping him learn, it’s just that right now, sometimes, I am finding it irritating.) Anyway, I have decided that if I were to follow his example, in a less strident way, I might also get the ice cream sandwich. As it were.

You see, he most often applies his tenacious toddler technique (except for lesson five) to treats – ice cream sandwiches of late – but I could apply them to things less tangible. Fulfilling career. A little chunk of the day to write in. That’s all I can think of right now. As follows, for example:

Lesson one: I WANT 15 minutes a day to write. I WANT 15 minutes a day to WRITE. I want FIFTEEN MINUTES A DAY to write.
Lesson two: I would like 15 minutes a day to write. Would YOU like 15 minutes a day to write? Would you like to do this? I would. Me. I WANT IT.
Lesson three is taken care of. In spades.
Lesson four: working on it, with my spare 17 brain cells.
Lesson five: constant work in progress.

As my laptop has bitten the big, green wiener (thank you, SA’s family, for this eloquent expression) and won’t boot right now, I am going to practise this focus. If a two-year-old can do it, I can, right? Without my constant computer companion to dull (and sometimes stimulate) my brain, I will attempt to carve out that 15 minutes. A day. To write. That I would like. To write in. Just 15 minutes. Me. Me want! Please give me my 15 minutes! Please, would you?

See? Annoying isn’t it. But it will help me grow. Or go off the deep end once and for all. Stay tuned.

Posted in more about me!, trombone, writing | 6 Comments

If I Was My Doctor

Posted on 7/16/2008 by cheesefairy

Well, first I would find someone qualified to fill in for me when I went on vacation. Not my second cousin who happens to be in Vancouver and needs something to do during the day. But since that didn’t seem to be an option for my doctor here’s my advice to the second cousin. Who didn’t introduce himself.

First, I would greet people with “hello, how are you,” not “so, what’s wrong with the baby?”

Then, I would make sure the scale where babies get weighed is not full of pamphlets, cotton swabs and assorted other crap. In a family practice / pediatrician’s office.

Before any of that, though, I would look at the patient’s chart. Then it wouldn’t come as a surprise to me that the patient requires immunizations.

And having reviewed the chart, I would have the needles prepared before the patient arrived.

I would also replace the paper on the exam table before the (next) patient arrived. Am I being a fuss-budget?

Now ideally, I would have been given a set of protocols to follow by my second cousin the doctor so that I would know to a) weigh the baby, b) measure the baby’s length c) do a visual inspection of the baby d) make sure the parent is informed about the procedure so that she can give her informed consent, usually involving some kind of fact sheet about the immunization being given and the polite, often redundant “do you have any questions?” f) advise the parent about after-care beyond “you can give him some tylenol. would you like some tylenol?” g) allow the parent to hold – or even breastfeed – the 12 week old infant while you give it the shot h) encourage the parent to comfort the infant, and no, “hold his leg down he’s really jumpy” doesn’t count i) refrain from small talk of the following nature, “gee, he’s hyperactive. my son was like that, til he was 20. I was so mad at my wife for letting him sleep in her bed until he was 12” because WTF? j) at least acknowledge the other person in the room, you know, the two year old who is hollering “givehimthemedicine!” at the top of his lungs k) when you are done jabbing the infant with needles, be sure to place the round bandage over the needleprick or else the infant will bleed l)come on m)did you seriously go to med school? n)because I ain’t buying it

We had all Trombone’s shots done at the public health clinic because we didn’t have a family doctor – at least not one who would do shots – and boy, it’s a good thing because if Fresco had been my first child and yesterday was my first exposure to vaccinations? I’d be one of those non-vaccinating people. Not only did the stand-in doctor actually not perform any of the protocols I list above without my prompting, Fresco had a screamy, freaked out reaction at about 5 pm that had me – good old, relaxed me – terrified enough to call the nurseline (does everyone know about the nurse line? free, registered nursey advice 24 hours a day? good.) which turned out to be just the thing as she chatted with me while Fresco’s tylenol kicked in so that I didn’t lose my mind. I couldn’t believe I didn’t have a fact sheet to refer to. When we went to public health we were lousy with the fact sheets. The first time Trombone got shots, the nurse read the fact sheet out loud to me. I was bored. But now I am grateful. At least there is someone out there providing quality health care while so many others are not.

Posted in Fresco, idiots | 8 Comments

Week 12

Posted on 7/14/2008 by cheesefairy

I searched my own ‘blog yesterday to find out how much Trombone weighed at 12 weeks old. We weighed Fresco and he’s 17 lbs and that seemed really big to everyone, even though he doesn’t look big (he does look bigger once you know he’s 17 lbs). I found a post I wrote when Trombone was 12 weeks, a little retrospective of his accomplishments and wow, have I ever not been keeping track of Fresco’s accomplishments. I’ve been a little preoccupied with Surviving At All Costs!

So it was Fresco’s 12 week-i-versary yesterday and as it turns out, he is a few pounds heavier than his brother was at this age, something that is hard to believe because he doesn’t look as chubby as Trombone did but then again, that’s my body type right there. I am a spacious individual and I probably weigh more than you think. Assuming you ever think about how much I weigh.

My new, totally original theory about why the second child looks more like the mother is because the mother needs a really compelling reason to love the second child given that its arrival throws her perfect relationship with the first child into total chaos.

(Am I making it up or is it one of those things we all agree on that the first child looks like the father so that, caveman-thinking-wise, the father will see proof of paternity in the baby’s sly smile and stick around to hunt and gather?)

The first child, assuming it’s born into a welcoming environment, where it is wanted and loved, is the best thing ever. It’s totally new and amazing and life-altering. No matter how much of a pain in the ass it is as an infant, you keep it alive because instinct tells you to. Then you are greatly rewarded when it becomes older and more interesting. And you love it dearly and can’t imagine life without it. Sunshine shoots out its butt. Rainbows out its nose. It can do no wrong.

(I shouldn’t generalize as though this is about everyone. It’s about me. Other people might fall in love with their newborns at first sight but I do not. It took a while for me to really appreciate Trombone and to love him as a person instead of as an appendage.)

Here comes the second born, then, and it’s miraculous and beautiful but it’s not new in that same way and the ways that it alters your life are considerably more logistically wracking than the first. No, you don’t have to adjust to being a parent for the first time because you already did that. But you do have to adjust to being a parent ALL THE TIME because with two children you effectively cut your free time in half again and it was at 50% already. Emotionally it’s not as much of a complete clusterfuck, I’m sorry I can’t think of a better word right now. But what emotional turmoil is not endured on the second go-round is made up for in spades by the full body (including mind) exhaustion that comes from moving and talking and disciplining and comforting and feeding and cleaning up seemingly all the time.

Not to mention the laundry. Holy cats.

You know from having the first one that this second baby will become awesome in its own special way and in a few months you will love it immensely, without compare, like you love air and water and of course, it will all become easier (in some ways) but you need something to tide you over till then. The most efficient way of doing this is for genetics to make it like a little mirror of the primary caregiver so that she sees herself in it and doesn’t leave it in the laundry room while she goes to play blocks with her perfect firstborn.

(It helps too if the perfect firstborn turns two and gets a sibling at the same time thus becoming a bit more of a

airquotes challenging personality end airquotes

so that hanging out with the infant is preferable some days.)

So while Fresco looks enough like Trombone to be identifiable as his brother, he also looks enough like me that I feel, on a semi-conscious level, as though I have fulfilled my imperative to make a copy of myself and feel, on a fully conscious level, that I ought to keep him breathing and growing because I am awesome and there should be more people like me in the world.

At 12 weeks, he is a big-time babbler. He loves light, shadow, opera and having his head stroked. He is a tummy sleeper so he has good control of his neck and he can pretty much crawl already. I’m dead serious. He is also a prolific roller. I put him in the middle of the crib last week, stretched short-wise and when I went up to check on him, he was at the far right. He’d done three full revolutions in his sleep.

It is nice to be relaxed about his development, actually. I was pretty relaxed with Trombone too but I’m really relaxed about Fresco. (I am proportionally as relaxed as my abdominal muscles. Har!) I just want to nuzzle his head all day. I should probably be handing him rattles to see if he’ll grab them – when I read on Trombone’s list of 12 week accomplishments that he could rattle things, I gulped guiltily because I don’t think I’ve even offered Fresco a rattle, poor thing – but I just can’t be bothered, in a way. He’s healthy and happy and adorable and I know the rest will come. It’s uphill from here, even if I’m doing most of the climbing.

Posted in Fresco, the parenthood, two! children! | 3 Comments