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Monday, 23 May 2011

I'm 32.

The other day, I found myself short a couple kids and only had the baby.  Such a treat!  My mom and I decided to head to Walmart to wander around and buy some very exciting items.  On my shopping list; a new pillow, a new bra and shorts for the oldest.  So off we go!!  With only the baby in tow, we can wander around and totally take our time!  So nice!  We start at the ladies clothing and each try on an armful of stuff, just for fun!  Then we head over to the bra section.  Okay, now lets lay out some groundwork here.  First off, I used to have a lovely set of B's.  Just the right size.  Not too big, not too small, and perky.  Then came my kids.  With the first baby, the girls jumped up to a C.  Still alright!  We used to joke about the "Titty Fairy" who comes to visit while pregnant and then after while nursing.  Eventually, between my first and second baby, the girls dropped a bit to a B cup.  But still, I was happy with them.  Clothes fit well and bras fit well.  After having Kohen, I nursed for 19 months.  Nineteen whole months!!!  My once perky B's started to shrink a bit....and sag......and flop.  Not happy.  But I could still wear a nice bra and they'd perk right up again, fooling everyone!  Look guys!  I nursed 2 babes and my breasts are chipper and cheerful and up where they belong!! Nothing to do with my new Victoria Secrets bra...no, they are just like this naturally (ya right!).  Then along came Lenny.  Let's just say, at 20 months, he's still sucking me dry.  So the girls have shrunk yet again to very, very small A's.  Raisins really.  Shrively old prunes.  And considering they are so friggen small they sure hang LOW!  Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot?  Can you tie them in a bow?  Check, check and check.  So unless I'm wearing a VERY padded bra, they look alot like moobs.  You know moobs......man boobs?  Think pointy down and triangular shaped and floppy.  Moobs.  My moobs.  Mom boobs if you will. 

So there we are.....scouring the bra section.  Now my mom has never had the same problem as me.  As I'm searching through the racks, she's yelling "See any triple D's?" and I'm calling over "Keep an eye out for double A's!".  We hunt and hunt and nothing.  Sure, I try a few bras on over my clothes and existing bra and when they are too big then, I know to put them back on the hanger.  I give up.  I'm frustrated by my National Geographic cover, topless African woman breasts.  I decide I'll have better luck with shoes and head off, leaving my mom still trying to smush herself into a double D.

At the shoes and my mom comes running over with a handful of bras.  "JACKPOT!" she yells excitedly!  She's found some for me! We head off to the changing room and I'm in.  The first bra I try is cute....a nice lavender and it's too big.  That's okay!  I have others to try!  As I'm wrestling the next one off the hanger I notice there's a picture on the hanger.  It's of this girl, this.....PRETEEN girl.  This smiling red headed preteen girl with 2 thumbs up and too big front teeth. 

"MOM!"
"Yes?  You got one on?"
"MOM!  Are these.......TRAINING bras????"
*silence*
"MOM!"
"Well.........I was going to rip the tags off, but I thought then how could they scan them at the check out!"
"MOM!  The first one was TOO BIG!"
*silence*  "Maybe you need some of those cutlet things you stick in there?"
"No mom! NO thanks!"

I grumble and try on another. Okay, so it fits.....well.  La ti fucking da!  I try on another....again, fits....well.  So now I have 2.  I look at the preteen price tag....huh! Training bras are alot cheaper then real ones.  Fine.  I'll buy 2, but I'm devastated!  I'm 32 years old for goodness sakes!  I didn't even need a training bra when I was a kid!  I went from nothing to a B overnight!  I hide them under some stuff in the cart and pout the rest of the shopping trip.  My mom lovingly suggests "When you are finished nursing, get some suckers put in!"  Ya ya Mom....it's on my list of things to do.  We head to the check outs and I start separating my stuff from hers.  There in the bottom of the cart is a little bag with these squishy, flesh coloured things.  My mom snuck them in there.  I refuse to buy them. 

So there you go.  Buying training bras at age 32.  I've tried them on a couple times, but have yet to wear them.  I mean, without the preteen smiling at me from the hanger, they don't look any different from my A's I usually wear.  But I know she was on there.  Smiling at me with her too big front teeth.  Mocking me with her 12 year old smile.....I'm 12 and I've got bigger tits then you!!!

Monday, 9 May 2011

Shit in my fridge

Why oh why is my fridge so full???  All the time....it's like....crammed!  What the hell is in there???  Nothing to eat, or so the kids always like to inform me!  So I thought I'd break it down and see really, what the heck is in there.....my findings were a little odd!  A few highlights were....

Beer.  Lots and lots of beer.  We don't actually drink much beer, but every time someone comes over and brings beer, we put it in the fridge.  They should come back and drink it.

Condiments...like, every condiment known to man kind.  Ketchup, soy sauce, fish sauce, teriyaki sauce, stir fry sauce, sweet and sour sauce, bbq sauce, thai sweet chili sauce, worchesterschire sauce, A1 steak sauce, plum sauce, honey mustard sauce, tequila lime sauce and it goes on and on and on.  Who needs this many sauces?  When helping us move one time, my Baba commented "there's more condiments in here then at Kootenay Market!"...it's probably true.

6 dark chocolate bars.  Six.  Different.  Kinds.  See, I don't like dark chocolate.  So they are safe here.

4 open bottles of pop.  Is anyone going to drink these after they sit and get stale?  No.  So why save them in the fridge?

5 jars of open salsa.  I swear, every time I go grocery shopping I say "are we out of salsa?" and Barry says "not sure, but I think so!" and BAM!  Salsa coming out of our ears.

Box of pizza.  At any given time, I could PROMISE you on my LIFE that we would have a box of delivery pizza in our fridge. 

Every single jam type in the world.  And what kinds will my kids eat?  Raspberry.  That is all.  So what shall I do with the lemon, peach, grape, strawberry, mixed berry, wild berry etc jars of jam?  Is there a "Jams for the Homeless" collection box?

8 sandwich bags with 8 mystery cheese in them.  Some are white, some are kind of greenish by now.  Little tiny left over bits of cheese that I save in a ziploc bag.  Could I actually name 8 different kinds of cheese?  I'm going to say it's possible, but I'd probably be lying.

Tiny, not quite enough for a full serving, amounts of leftovers from dinner on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.  All saved in plastic containers.  But they are not ever quite enough for a meal, so everyone always looks at them, thinks "hmm, not enough" and puts them back.  Good thing I saved it all!

A bag of pitted dates and a bag of figs.  I vaguely remember making a recipe a while back that called for 5 dates and 5 figs.  So now I have entire bags of each.

2 open bottles of red wine and 1 of white.  We are total wine snobs and will not drink old, open wine.  So how come we always put the cork back in and refrigerate them??  Also, some ciders left over from the last time Gillian brought some over.  When was that??  It's been months.  And months.  And months.

Honestly, that's about it!  So I guess we really don't have any food in there.  Unless you count the boarder line science experiment bags of veggies in my crisper.  I was kind of embarrassed to find them in the state they were in so I didn't mention them.  Okay okay, who am I kidding....I couldn't tell what vegetable they were, so I didn't mention them.  Also, did I throw them out upon discovery?  No.  If I did, I would have had to clean the crisper drawer.  And that makes me gag.  Don't judge me.

Family

Okay, so first off....I know, I suck at blogging.  I just find myself busy....and forgetting....and okay, this week, for reals, I worked 50 hours and I was totally SICK the entire week.  Like sick, sick.  Not like "man cold" sick, because obviously I'm not a man and also I continued my life.  Which is what you do when you are a mom (or maybe it's just the way women work? Not trying to man bash here, just stating the facts.).  So I worked all week, spreading my germs around and coughing and snotting and my ears are so plugged I swear I can hear my hair growing.  I mean, thank GODDESS for my amazing husband, who kept the home front running while I worked till 8:30 or 9pm every night of the week....and my baby didn't sleep much so we were up with him most nights while he teethed and cried and nursed in our bed.  LONG week.  Okay...so that brings me to the real reason for this posting........family.

Family.  Mine consists of me and four boys.  That's right....count'em.....FOUR.  Don't get me wrong...I love each and every one of them (most days) but I still have these delusions about what we can and can't do with our family of weiners.  Take today for instance.  Beautiful sunny day......proD day so no school....and the kids are being as sweet as they can (not very) so I think "Let's do something all together!". 

That was my first mistake.  Spontaneously planning to do something with all three kids is a stupid idea.  It's an idea that obviously I had because I'm still sick and the amount of snot in my head is making me crazy.  But you know when you like picture it in your head....how lovely it's going to be....just like the TV shows or movies!  The mom all cute and non-tired with her 3 lovely, well behaved, rascally kids.  Off to do something only a real true loving family could do in a magically, Disney inspired way! 

So I think "I've been sick all week and haven't ran since Monday.....let's get the older boys to ride their bikes and I'll take the baby in his stroller and jog and we'll go down to Johnny's to get a treat!".  Now Johnnys is a little gas station/grocery store FYI and it's about 3kms away from our house and it's packed full of candy like those places often are!  And the boys LOVE to go there and get treats!  How lovely!  La di da!!

 Mistake number two.  I plan a GIANT reward at the end of an impossible task, basically setting everyone up for failure.  Why?  I'm crazy?  I don't know. 

So off we go!!  Get the bikes and the stroller and we frolic outside!  I even wore a cute running outfit cause that's important in my delusional fantasy's...that I'm always cute.  I give the stern, yet loving lecture about staying close to me while riding bikes...off the road....don't get too far ahead....and this should be fun!  We head down the driveway.  Going good.  The redhead is anxious to get out on his bike and he's got a bit of energy that needs to be burnt off.  The oldest is only whining a little about how his 11 year old legs are just a bit tired of peddling already, because he hasn't rode his bike yet this year.  And the baby only got his finger stuck in the stroller tire once so far!  We can do this! 

Mistake number three.  Of course we can't.  Remember?  This isn't Disney.

Fast forward 2 minutes and 33 seconds.  The redhead rides his bike a bit too close to the soft dirt side and WIPES OUT!  I keep running...."You're okay....you're good....up, let's go!  No blood!" I lie.  He believes me somehow....visions of candy aisles in his head and gets back on!  Another 50 seconds pass and I'm getting into the groove and the redheads chain pops off his bike.  "WAIT!" he screams.  Oh for fu............okay, I pause my running timer and stop and hanker down on the pavement to fix his bike.  The chain is rusty and impossible to put on.  My cute running outfit is getting dirty and I'm close to swearing at the bike chain.  We wrestle a bit and thankfully get it back on.  OKAY, LET'S GO.  Couple more minutes and I hear a clump clump clump clump.  The oldest has decided his legs are just too tired and he'll just run beside me (bumping me all the way) while holding onto his bike.  Cause that's more restful.  "I'll just walk a bit and then catch up!" he yells.  Fine so we keep going.  The chain pops off again.  Seriously????  So again, I plop down on the pavement and we struggle to get it back on.  I'm covered in greasy rusty chain gunk and Gavin is crying he's tired and Kohen is yelling at him to stop being a baby and the wind is blowing the stroller (with the baby) in it down the road.  We finally get going again......and the chain falls off again!!!!!  A fortis worker pulls over.  It's a lady.  She yells out the window "Need a hand?  I've been there Sister!".  I wave her away cheerfully...all while swearing under my breath.  The boys are both crying now.  And I can't for the life of me get the chain back on.

Ring ring

Barry - Ola!

Me - Are you on your way home yet? (I'm slightly hysterical)

Barry - Umm....(he can sense my hysterics)....I'm almost on my way.  Why?

Me - Because we're stuck on the side of the road....blah blah Kohen....blah blah effing bike chain....blah blah I just wanted a run....blah blah why can't anything just be nice??

Barry - *big sigh* I'm on my way.

So I tell the boys "well, you can just go with Barry then.  He'll pick you up." And now they're REALLY crying....I mean, they wanted Johnnys!  Gavin says "would you buy us some stuff??" I say NO....I'm not stopping.  I'm mad.  And it's not at them.  I mean, it's not their fault the chain kept falling off.  Or Gavin couldn't keep up (wait....that is kind of his fault....for petes sake.....it's a 10 minute bike ride.....) but I'm so frustrated at my fantasy vision being a total hoax.  I'm almost crying myself and the boys hunker down together and struggle with the chain.  It's fixed!  They are ecstatic!  We can go now!!  I'm still frustrated....it'll just keep coming off....this is ridiculous, but I breathe and say fine, we'll go as far as Johnnys (a block away) and then Barry can get you there and take you home.  And as they boys disappear down the amazing candy aisle, my knight in shining armor walks in, smirking at me.  I can read his mind "you're crazy for attempting this" but he just says "we'll see you at home." and he takes over with the monsters and me and the stroller head for home.

I mean, good try, right?  But nothing ever happens as lovely as I imagine it as happening when it comes to doing things with my boys.  It's not their fault, but I just need to realize that this isn't a movie...or an after school special....this is real life.  And this is my real life.  And these are my boys, lord love a duck.  And I wouldn't change a thing.  Except maybe I'd have a nanny.  And be rich.  And have perky breasts.  But that's it.