'Kay, that was DUMB. My roll has come to an end. It ended as soon as I burned my finger on the frying pan as I was putting the chicken in. Why I thought my fingers worked better than the tongs laying on the counter is beyond me. That'll teach me. Ice water is my friend at the moment. Did I mention DUMB.

4 down, 5 to go . . . Yay me!

I spent almost all of Sunday cleaning. Not normal cleaning, spring cleaning (yes, I know it's summer). I took advantage of our day at home and instead of spending family time, did some stuff that I can't do without someone watching T. I washed 4 of our 9 miniblinds. Yech. What a job that was. And I washed our drapes, and T's drapes, cleaned the windows. And cleaned the tubs. And made DH vacuum the bed. I also dusted the walls in our room. Yes, the WALLS. This is how much dust accumulates in our townhouse. I've never had a home before that I've had to dust the walls. Or maybe it's just the marrooon/red of the walls that shows the dust more. Anyhew, my body hurts, and it was a little hard on my asthma, but man does it feel good to have that done. EXCEPT that I still have 5 miniblinds to go . . . and a shitload of other cleaning to do. But it still feels good.

And today I fixed DH shorts, I've done 3 loads of laundry, and fixed a shirt of mine. . . I feel like I'm on a little roll.

And I actually took the time to chat with a friend yesterday. It was really nice to have some face to face adult conversation other than my sis (which is nice to talk to, but variety is good too), who I haven't seen much lately. Thanks A.

Now gotta go start dinner.

I'M . . . SO . . . TIRED . . .

My asthma is kicking my but this week and I feel like my arms and legs are lead weights. And there's sand where my brain used to be. Or straw, take your pick. Dumb me was talking to my girlfriend who also has asthma, saying I can't understand why I'm so stinking lethargic, and she said "uh, cause your body's not getting enough oxygen." DUH. I guess that's why I switched from a Science major to Arts when at UBC . . . hehe. It burns when I breath, is that a bad thing???? Okay, I know, off to take my inhaler. It might be awhile till I come back again.

Welcome to the world, little angel

My close girlfriend had a baby girl yesterday morning, and I just got back from visiting her (them). She is sooo beautiful. Both are happy and healthy, which is great considering her last one had to be in an incubator and had problems with his lungs. We got to have a nice long visit, no one else came while I was there. I'm so glad to have friends like that, that can talk about the ins and outs of a c-section without hesitation, and breastfeed in front of you. Little T was a little antsy, don't blame him, I made him stay in his stroller so I didn't have to chase him, but all in all he was pretty good. And I took him to the Zoo on the way home as a treat. We got to see the giraffes up and personal, and he thought the black bear was really cool.

HOW MANY PLATES ARE GOING TO BREAK . . .

Before my son stops throwing them and his food on the floor. I was shamed to find out he'd broken one of my nephew's plates today when he threw it on the tile floor before my sister had a second to react. He does this to let you know he's done with his food. However. He has been disciplined EVERY time for it. Tonight, at dinner, I left him in his highchair for a minute. Before I left the room I told him if he was done, to leave his food on his tray. Pre-emptive, right? WRONG! Usually it works. Right now, I'm on the computer and he's in his crib, and there is a plate in 10 pieces on my kitchen floor waiting for when I'm not so angry that I will throw it at the wall.

BREATH

BREATH

Ah, HELL, it was just a fucking plate.

Gotta go clean it up.

Papa would be soooo proud

T's new word(s) of the day: golf club (goffff cubb). I bought him a little plastic set at Wal-Mart yesterday, and he's obsesses with it. He's carried one of the clubs with him constantly since we got home. We even drove hours worth today, with him clutching that club, until he fell asleep and it fell out of his hand. He's even not that bad at hitting the ball properly. It's soooo darn cute, and my dad (his papa, and avid golfer) is so proud. Nana thinks he'll be the next Tiger Woods. She just wants him to support her in her old age. ROFL. My little sportsman.

Our Favourite Doughnut Shop is Closing . . .

and no, I don't mean a Krispy Kream. It's the Mini Doughnut Company in Willowbrook Mall, Langley, BC. If you buy a dozen mini glazed doughnuts (yes, icing and sprinkles, etc) you get a dozen of the fairground variety - cinnamon and sugar, all for $5. Admittedly, we only go there once every few months, it's an hour away, and we try not to overdo the whole junkfood thing. I was there today and the lady told me the mall wouldn't renew their lease. BWAAAAWAAAAAA.

The Doctor's Visit . . .

Sorry for the delay in posting, we've been out of town since Friday (wedding, hospital, etc). So . . . I really should have written down what the doctors (yes, THREE neurosurgeons) were saying. I got it when we were there, but it's hard to explain.
Basically, "he's a different type of normal". Yes, that's exactly what the Dr. said. He's developing normally, his motor skills are "developed way above normal" (according to the head neurosurgeon he'll be a pitcher), but that his body and brain "over-react" to being sick. They said that it likely something was going on (when he was sleeping 19 hours a day), but that he's okay now. They said that he doesn't present as having extra pressure on his brain EXCEPT when he's sick, and to watch him when he is sick, and if the syptoms are for more than two days or severe, to come back again. Basically treating him (inserting a shunt at the base of his brain) at this stage is more risky than not, and the likelihood of him completely growing out of it is more likely than the likelihood of it getting worse.
Basically, the head Doc said he's on the normal side of the borderline of having the condition, and to watch him when he's sick.
Did I mention he's sick ALL the time????
So, he's out of the woods - kind of.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers

STRESS

I've had this overwhelming feeling of stress lately, and haven't been able to peg the reason for it. That is, until I actually took a moment to myself to think. See, hubby has been working unbelievable hours, home for 1/2 hour while son is awake, at the most, and working 6 days a week. I NEVER signed on for that. He has a really good, well paying job, that is usually regular hours. This is out of his control, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with my 21 month old when I'm needing some co-parenting help.That, and I realized I am trying very hard to deny that we have a very important doctor's appointment at Children's Hospital for DS on Monday. If I let myself be honest, I am SOOOOO unbelievably worried. (Long story, made very short) See, when he was 6 months old the neurosurgeon at Children's found that T's Cerebral-Spinal system was underdeveloped, and he had extra fluid on his brain because it wasn't draining properly. Over time, it got better, and shortly before his first birthday, he was re-evaluated and the Nuerosurgeon cleared him, said DS had outgrown the condition. It had never caused any long term problems because his soft spot was still open, and any extra pressure on his brain was alliviated by this. Now his soft spot is almost closed, and because of recent *happenings* my family doctor thinks that the condition may be back. I've been fooling myself, keeping myself too busy, and not talking about it, in hopes that he's really all right.But I have this terrible feeling I can't shake. I hope that my intuition is WAY off base. I need this feeling to go away.

I'm so mad I could spit

I NEVER get my haircut, cause I can never find a hairdresser that I like that doesn't charge an arm and a leg, so I've been cutting my own hair for years (and my friends tell me it still looks okay, hey, they could be lying, but then they wouldn't really be my friends . . . sidetrack).

So my sister finds this new hairdresser, I like the way her hair looks (nice new do sis), so I decide to treat myself to a haircut, it could use some cleaning up. I'm going to a formal wedding on Saturday. Those of you who have never seen me, my hair WAS a couple inches from being waist length, with layers.

I asked the lady to take off an inch, if need be two, but that was it. And add a few layers. She cut, and cut, and said she hadn't taken much off the length. She didn't have time to blow dry it cause her next customer was there. I think she was just scared too. I come home, shower, and dry it. DAMN IT. FUCK. She took at LEAST three, if not more off, and tapered the back soooooo badly, and cut it sooooo unevenly that when it is fixed up it will be AT LEAST 6 to 7 inches shorter than it was. I did not ask for her to masacre my hair, I asked her to tidy it up!@!!!!!! I AM NEVER TRUSTING A HAIRDRESSER AGAIN.

I hate formal weddings . . .

Okay, I don't really, I just hate that I've gained 5 pounds too much to wear the outfit I bought many months ago for the wedding we're going to next weekend, and that I'm not at the stage of my life anymore where I can lose five pounds in two days just by thinking about it!!!!!!!!! Okay, so it used to take a little effort. Now, it takes moving a mountain to nudge the pudge! I have a treadmill, an old one that barely works, but it's still there. And I have been faithfully using it for about two weeks now. HOWEVER, using it has made me realize just how much my body has changed. The other day, I'm jogging, and I realize that every two seconds I'm pulling the legs of my shorts down, because the day has come (a long time ago) that my thighs rub together too much when I walk/jog/run, and it makes the shorts ride up. YUCK!

Thank you Dear Sister . . .

for the fabulous antihistimines, and your reliability for carrying them. I took DS and went today to visit her and her family at Cultus Lake where they were camping. I missed the turnoff, 'cause DH told me the wrong one, and so I had to stop and turn around. As I stopped, I got stung on the elbow by and ENORMOUS bee. I have skin that reacts like *stink*. I had to stop and wrap it with one of my cooler icepacks. By the time I got to their campsite (15-20 mins) I had a swollen bump the size of a quarter. But big sis came through with the allergy pills . . . thank you, and thank God it wasn't DS who had been stung (he's REALLY allergic).

And for posterity's sake . . .

So . . . yesterday I left my somewhat warm, (last bit of French vanilla Duet) Cinnamon spiked cup of coffee on the kitchen table, next to my loverly son, who was colouring on a large tablet of paper to walk the 12 feet to my glass of water in the living room. I return to the kitchen (seriously folks, 2 seconds here) and there are two very wet crayons laying on the table, and and orange one sticking out of my mug. Did you know that Crayola "My First" Washable Crayons melt in lukewarm coffee??? Science experiment, huh Trevor? Yes, I pulled out that mushy crayon, and looking at the orange swirl in my only coffee of the day, laughing and crying, I dumped it down the drain. Okay, first I took a picture, then I dumped it. Technicality.

Want dat!!!!

Aaaahhhh. Welcome to the blog of my crazy life. I have finally succumbed. That is, after listening to my son this morning, I decided I needed somewhere to write when I couldn't find any of my friends on the phone!

My dear, adorable child sat there with that "mom, you are soooooo stupid" look saying, over and over and over, "want dat" pointing at the pantry. Could I figure out what he wanted? NO, of course not! I tried probably 15 things, and then gave up! The poor thing is sick AGAIN, and sat there, sadly saying "waaant daaat". Aaaahhhh.