Soup...Mmm Mmmm Not Good

This post should be about The Princess turning 8.

I should be going on about one of my babies growing up so quickly, and what kind of birthday cereal she chose, and what we did for her big day and what dinner she wanted.

Instead, I have nothing to report about that day because I slept her birthday away. I hadn't gone to bed until 6 am and woke up at 4:30 pm with a killer migraine and the need for a serious 10 minutes tooth brushing.

Aah, food poisoning. Chicken corn chowder, I shall never look at you the same way again.

I've had food poisoning once before. Two years ago when The Husband and I went away to Victoria for our wedding anniversary I apparently ate a bad chicken caesar salad. Nothing says loving like writhing around on a bed at the Empress hotel begging to die while your husband eats take out food beside you.

That was a bad evening. But this past Friday night? Let's just say that if you men out there truly want to find out just how bad those childbirth pains really are that your wimpy wife was going on about for 18 hours or so giving you an offspring, just go put a piece of half cooked chicken out on in the sun for a day or so, then go make yourself a chicken salad sandwich.

And that was basically how I felt as I writhed on the floor of the emergency room for several hours. In the throws of labour but without a cute baby at the end. There was a cute doctor, but let me tell you, discussing your latest bowel movements with said cute doctor while you may or may not have vomit chunks in your hair totally cancels out any pleasure from that.

I would also like to point out that vomiting into an emergency waiting room toilet is about as disgusting as you just pictured it.

But lucky for me The Husband and I got to hang around the waiting room for quite a while so we got to witness two drunk guys come in and explain to the triage nurse that one of them had been bitten in the face by a homeless guy's dog. To hear them tell it, it was pretty funny if you went by the continuous giggling coming from the two men. And to this I say, thanks. Thanks for pissing off the people that were going to be shoving an IV into the back of my hand.

Some good came from all this, though. The Husband answered a lot of work emails on his Blackberry while I slept fitfully thanks to some pain killers and intravenous Gravol. By the way, did you know that stuff really stings when they give it to you and then 10 seconds later will make your right eye go all wonky and your chest all tight and you'll start to freak out and THEN the nurse might tell you that's all normal and would I just relax, relax, already?

Here's a tip for you lady. How 'bout you tell me that before so I don't freak out to begin with? That's my suggestion. Take it or leave it.

And so, life is back to 'normal' around these parts today. My migraine finally left me midday yesterday afternoon and here I sit, 5 pounds lighter. To top it off, the soup company contacted me this morning and are refunding me the cost of that soup and just might be sending me some coupons.

For more soup.

Two Pennies

It took two pennies to get me back to blogging.

We went The Princess' theatre class Christmas performance this evening. Yes, it was wonderful. Yes, she was adorable. Yes, I cried when they sang Silent Night.

But I'm not here to blog about that.

On our way home, The Princess said in her small little princess voice that she was so terribly hungry and exactly how long would it be before we got home so she could have just a small bowl of cereal. The kid is brilliant. Perfectly timed to coincide with the appearance of the Golden Arches.

So The Husband turned the corner and entered the drive thru. He ordered his Princess some chicken nuggets and proceeded to the window to pay.

"$3.98 please," said the girl behind the window.

The Husband handed the employee four bucks.

"Do you want your change?" she asked.

The Husband said no, she could keep the two pennies and drove to the next window to pick up the nuggets. Then he rolled his eyes at me going on about the two dang pennies.

Excuse me....but since when is it okay for a clerk to ask if I want my change back?? Where does this stop? Is it okay to ask if I want 3 pennies back? What about a nickel?

Will they move onto a dime? Will we be doing away with the dispensing of change in the near future? What if I wanted those two pennies? I'd be tempted to tell the chick, "Why, yes, I DO want my change. All of it. Give me my two pennies!" Just so I could see her face. And make a point.

I mean, really.

Then my dear Husband just looked and me and said, "What? Are you Seinfeld now?"

That's it. Poke the crazy lady who's told you she just may possibly be nursing a bit of PMS and is carrying around a to do list that is three pages long one short week away from Christmas and was just coughed on repeatedly by a lady sitting behind her at the concert who was apparently missing both hands and elbows and had to resort to coughing on his loving wife's head for an hour.

Two pennies.

I could have used those two pennies to shove up someone's nose, that's what.

A Griswold Invention

The Husband loves music.

The Husband loves gadgets.

The Husband loves to run and work out with a music gadget strapped to one of his finely toned arms.

The Husband's 4GB iPod Nano is full of music.

After you've done the math, you know exactly what comes next.

The Husband says he needs a bigger iPod.

Me: "I don't get it. Why do you need to buy a new iPod? We have The Eldest's old iPod Nano kicking around. Why can't you just use that?"

The Husband: "It's the same as mine. It only holds 4 GB of music. Mine's full."

Me: "So start putting new music on her's. They're pretty small. Can't you just carry both of them around?"

The Husband: "How am I suppose to work out with two iPods? You want me to strap one to each arm?"

No. No I don't. You'd look like an idiot like that. We may be Griswolds but a person's got to have some standards.

But every problem has a solution. This is mine.

I call it Mork.

It's a Nanonano.

4GB iPod + 4GB iPod = 8GB iPod.

I like math.

You're welcome Husband. I love you, too.

(You can thank me by buying me a new camera so I don't have to keep taking crappy photos with my cellphone.)

Random Thoughts of the Week

Since I can't seem to find the time or will to post a real post about one large thought or idea or something or other, I give you:

Top Ten Random Thoughts of the Week

10. I really should have gotten to the gym this week. Really. Really. Really. I'm starting to worry that people are going to start asking me when I'm due. I'm exhausted from holding in my gut in public.

9. Why didn't I refuse that Sulfa antibiotic for the Princess when I know I'm allergic to it?

8. Holding down a 7 year old getting blood work really sucks. And makes me cry, too. (And made me want to tip the lab techs who were amazing.)

7. An almost 3 year old's take on the world is a wonderful wonderful thing. The Baby saw a picture of The Eldest's graduation cap and gown portrait and asked me, "K___'s in High School Musical 3???"

6. Spaceballs is about the bestest movie of all time. "What's the matter, Colonel....chicken?"

5. Missing The Husband when he's away at a work conference is a great thing after 20 years.

4. The love/hate relationship I have with our dog was pretty much hate this week.

3. Someone needs to invent window screens that keep the bugs out, but the almost 3 year old in. It's going to be a long hot summer with all the windows open only a crack so she doesn't accidentally fall out a window.

2. Pink nail polish is difficult to get off of a sink, counter top and floor. An entire bottle of pink nail polish. On the upside, The Baby didn't pour it in MY bathroom sink, so I don't have to look at it daily.

.....and the number 1 Random Thought of the Week.....

1. Getting The Princess a kitten is an insane insane insane insane insane idea and I should not even be having those thoughts, let alone thoughts about trying to convince The Husband that she needs one. The Princess fights dirty, though, and her lamenting over not being able to play with her friends, or go to school or even go outside in the sunshine to play because she was sick and if only she had a kitten to keep her company and play with, it would make it so much easier to bear being ill. Bugger.

Border Crossing 101 - Griswold Style

The Husband and I decided to hop on over the border last weekend. Nothing says, "Let's celebrate being married to each other for an awe inspiring 20 years!" like a trip to Seattle.

Because the traditional gift of a 20th wedding anniversary is china.

But, honestly, China is pretty far to go when you are only able to get away overnight. And HELLO! Sleepless in Seattle was filmed there. I think.

Did they end up getting married?

Huh.

So like I was saying. Seattle totally makes sense as a 20th anniversary destination.

But first, we had to get across the border. We had a 90 minute wait but that didn't faze us.

Remember.....no children in the car. We passed the time playing cards and debating how many real parts were left on the hot chicks in the car next to us. Oh, and laughing at the group of cyclists in the truck behind them. Most fortunately for them, the Barbie with 3 real body parts left had to walk alllll the way to the washrooms and then the Barbie with the huge.......loan on her assorted new parts had to get out of the car and get in the driver's seat.

It was like watching synchronized swimming. 6 men's heads moving in perfect time.

We finally got to the front of the line. The Husband handed the scary looking border guard our documents.

The guard looked pretty cheesed that the Barbies weren't in his lane.

"What's the purpose of your trip?" he demanded. His accent was......is 'New York rapper' an accent?

"Heading to Seattle," the Husband answered.

"How lowng?!"

"Just overnight. It's our anniversary."

Scary long pause.

"WEDDIN' anniversary?!"

"Yes. 20 years."

Scarier long pause. Then he looked at our documents. For a long time. Kept flipping through them.

My stomach started churning.

"Mahoney."

"Yes...."

"Mahoney." He looked up and stared at the Husband. "That's how you say it? Mahoney?"

Gulp. "Yeesss....." replied the Husband.

"Mahoney? Like the movie Police Academy?? Sergeant Mahoney??? Hahahahaha!!!!! Mahoney!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

We laughed with him. We really wanted to go to Seattle.

"So, you buyin' the wife some blang?"

"Pardon me?"

"Some blang.....some blang, for yo' anniversary."

"Oh. Some bling. Ha. Ha. Ha."

Then the guard looked at me. "You gonna pick some blang out yo'sef?"

"Ha ha ha. Yes. Maybe I will."

"MAHONEY. Hahaha. I dig it. I dig it. You all have a good trip. Hahaha."

"Thanks." And the Husband drove away and we went and bought hand sanitizer and Cherry Dr. Peppers.

We drove down the I-5, listening to the Husband's iPod and having conversations such as, "What do you think are the best one liners people must hear living in a community with "Chuckanut Drive" and "Nootsack"?

We apparently haven't matured as much as one might think after 20 years of marriage.

Or it could have been the child free car and hand sanitizer fumes.

Ode to My 30's

Today is my last day in the decade known as my '30's.

It feels about the same way as the day before a scheduled root canal. It's a day you've been dreading for weeks, stewing over, trying to think of any excuse you can to skip the appointment, but eventually have to come to the conclusion that you best just get it over with.

Except I've never had a root canal. I prefer to just let my teeth fall out. I've got a little problem going on with the dentist.

But I think that's probably what it would feel like.

The past 10 years have been pretty awesome. A lot of stuff happened. Mostly good, some bad. A fair amount of Griswold luck. We bought our first home and added two more children into our brood. I've worked, I've stayed home, I've learned how to bake pumpkin scones.

I parented for a full 10 years with the occasional vacation paired with food poisoning. I discovered that marriage gets better as you both get older and 'mature' (snort!).

I aged 10 years. I think I'm officially a grown up. At least I think I should be since I'm going to be officially middle aged.

I'm going to miss being 39.

But there's lots to look forward to in my 40's.

The Eldest graduating.

The Baby starting school.

Going back to work.

The Boy graduating.

Vacations.

Menopause.

My boobs falling down to my stretch marks.

Dentures.

Weddings.

Grandchildren.

Oh, god, I just threw up in my mouth.

I'm going to go have a cry, then apply some moisturizer to my crows feet.

And go enjoy my last day of being in my thirties by taking the Princess ice skating and hopefully not breaking my bum hip.

Ode to Bear Dog

When the Husband and I had been married for a brief 5 years and we were a month away from completing the gestation of the Boy, a small ball of brown fluff joined our little family.

The puppy was christened, "Teddy Bear" by the almost 3 year old Eldest daughter. He did look like a teddy bear as a puppy. But the name was soon shortened. To Bear. All 7 pounds of him.

Bear had a few names. Bear dog, Beary.....one of the Husband's friends affectionately called him 'Punt' and bugged Hubby about getting a real dog one day. And my 6' 1" Husband called the dog Buddy and Buddy Boy. Only the Husband called him that.

For 14 and a half years, Bear worshipped the hallowed ground that the Husband walked upon. 14 and a half years of greeting the Husband as he walked in the door after a long day at work. 14 and a half years of the Husband letting him out to pee just before heading to bed. Years of cuddling on laps, dancing for treats, play wrestling with the cat, throwing up in car rides that were longer than 10 minutes, and carrying around a stuffed animal that was half his size.

As the years passed, Bear became the part of the family that seemed like it had always been there. Been there through moves, family additions, sadness, happiness, holidays, and trips to Grandma's house. As time moved on, and Bear grew older, he became the dog who was curled up by the fire, or under the table in the living room, or curled up by the door, waiting for the Husband to return home.

The past few weeks, he became the dog who was curled up under our bed, sleeping most of the day away. But no matter where he slept, he was still in the kitchen at the first sound of a plate being scraped or the pantry door being opened because that's where his cookies were kept. He still had it in him to steal the 90 pound dog's bones. And Bryn, the massive black dog would stand there, towering over Bear, looking forlornly at her bone as that 7 pound dog tried to chew on it with his last few teeth.

On Friday, I cooked up some bits of chicken for the Bear to eat. When he walked away from his little food dish, chicken untouched, I knew the day was near.

On Saturday, when he wouldn't come out from under our bed, I called for the Husband. And the Husband lovingly brought him out and we bathed that little dog who was too tired to get up to go outside to go to the bathroom. We put him in his bed by the fire and blow dried his hair till he was warm and dry.

Saturday night was a night for 'last time's. His last cuddle on the Husband's lap. His last sleep by the fire, his last drinks of water through a plastic syringe because he was too weary to drink from a bowl brought to his lips. It was a night of the Husband lying next to him by the fire, with the Bear dog lying there and looking lovingly at the Husband who was his best buddy in the world. And the Eldest and I sitting close by, petting him at times and letting him know it was ok to go to sleep.

And in the wee hours of Sunday morning, he passed away. A life well lived. And our family feels different.

A little dog who's bark was as irritating as nails down a chalk board. A dog who had horrible breath. A dog who looked like a little old man, liver spots showing through his patchy hair, his nails clicking on the linoleum as he walked through the kitchen. A little dog who I had to let out 30 times a day and who's yap had grown so high pitched it hurt your ears when it went off at the sound of any bump or thump in a 2 mile radius. A little dog who was becoming incontinent. A little dog who used to lick the Husband's feet. As soon as the Husband would take off his socks, that dog would be over there like a shot and his pink tongue would be jutting out between the Husband's toes.....to everyone's disgust but the Husband's. A little dog who still enjoyed life's simple pleasure of toe jam.

A little dog who helped teach my children about life's circle. Of life and death. Of grieving and remembering. Of life continuing on, despite the little hole that is now there.

We buried Bear in my parent's back yard, among other loved family pets. As the Husband shoveled dirt back into the hole, the Baby stood close by, waving at the hole and said, "Bye Bear! Bye Bear!" The Princess stood there with tears streaming down her face, and I stood there, my arms around the Boy and the Eldest.

The sun was shining brightly. Ribbons of clouds brushed against the blue sky as we said goodbye and the Princess told Bear to have lots of fun in Heaven.

Bye, Bear dog, you will be missed.

Chapter 3

If you're late in the game, read the first two installments.



http://http//mahoneymusings.blogspot.com/2008/07/simple-solution.html



http://http//mahoneymusings.blogspot.com/2008/07/chapter-2.html



Biding my time to inflict my revenge was the most difficult part.

I'm watching my back.

Chapter 2

I picked up my green toothbrush last night with glee. I did not have to think about which one was mine. Mine was the green one. Heath's was the one with red polka dots and curly yellow ribbon.

And as I swiped the green toothbrush across my teeth, I simultaneously said, "What the....", and looked in the mirror to see Heath laughing hysterically at me.

The bugger switched the 'decorations' from his toothbrush onto mine and I was brushing my teeth with HIS green toothbrush.

Game on, man. Game on.

A Simple Solution

Heath and I have been married for 19 years. 19 years and 2 1/2 months. And 17 days.

Heath needed a new toothbrush. He bought a new toothbrush. He bought a green toothbrush.

For 19 years, 2 1/2 months and 15 days, I've had a green toothbrush. Heath has whatever other coloured toothbrush his little heart desires to purchase. That deal was made 19 years ago. We can tell what toothbrush belongs to whom. Green is mine. His is whatever...I don't really care. Mine is green. The green one is mine.

As most of you might be aware, I'm a tad scattered in my thoughts of late. There's a bit on my mind. For two days now, every time I go to brush my teeth, I have to pause. I have to look at those two green toothbrushes and THINK about which one is mine. And it's completely driving me mad. Hey...the straw that broke the camel's back and all....

So, every problem has a solution. (Shoving a green toothbrush up Heath's nose flits across my mind as I'm looking at those two green toothbrushes in the holder, but really, although it may momentarily make me feel better, I'd still be looking at the end of a green toothbrush up his nose. Still oddly irritating in my mind.) So I've come up with a better solution.

No problem now. Mine's the green one.