Mar
10
Mar
9
Come, my interwebs peeps, and make yourself feel better about yourselves by reading about what a doofus I am.
- Bravery FAIL: So, it’s gotten warm here in the past week. And with warm temperatures, suddenly and without warning, are bugs. Now, I was a little girl who was afraid of bugs — especially bees. SCREAMING afraid of bees. Pretty freaked out by spiders, too. Other bugs, I got my father to come deal with. Anyway, as an adult, I have made my peace with bugs, mostly. Spiders I have come to cohabit peaceably with. Bees, too. But there are some bugs which I am AAUUGGGHH NO FUCKING WAY about. Among these would be particularly ugly bugs, cockroaches, centipede thingies, earwigs, and silverfish. GAH. Gives me the heebiedejeebies just thinking about them. Anyway, this past week, we’ve had plenty of encounters to indicate the coming of spring. First off, I got out of the shower, and there was a silverfish on the wall. He was just doing his creeptastic silverfish thing, but I am not brave enough most times to grab a kleenex and mash the little sucker and drop it in the toilet, so what did I do? I TURNED ON THE HAIRDRYER AND HURRICANED HIS ASS OFF THE WALL. And then I dropped him in the toilet. (What?? Once in university I had nothing to kill a centipede-type bug with so I sprayed him with HAIR SPRAY. That sucker stuck to the ceiling for SIX WEEKS. I’ve vacuumed cockroaches. All’s fair in bugs and war.) Then, later in the week, Stinkerbelle found an uglybug in the foyer — one of those bugs that looks like a cross between a beetle and a grasshopper, that moves really slowly? Yeah, so. Because That Girl was standing there, I thought “WATCH HOW I AM A GOOD EXAMPLE” and got a piece of cardboard, scootched the uglybug onto the cardboard, and took him outside. But later, after Stinkerbelle had gone to bed, and I found ANOTHER of those uglybugs in the bedroom? I went and got BDH and made him deal with it. And another silverfish on the wall, too.
- Neurosis FAIL: I have been told, although I don’t really recall it, that my father had a problem with us kids, and grandkids too, making a mess and spilling food when we ate. It was a compulsion for him to continually clean it up, fuss at us about it, and generally be of the attitude that we should not make a mess when we ate. Like I said, I don’t recall it, but I heard about it quite a bit from my sisters. And sure enough, I have found myself fussing at Stinkerbelle about — you guessed it — making a mess when eating. Like she doesn’t have enough issues around food and eating, right? And yet I hear myself fussing at her way more than is reasonable, considering she’s three, and cleaning up, and feeling angry and annoyed at the mess and the spills and the dropping… It’s horrible. I do it unconsciously, and I have no idea where it comes from. It just DOES. I am perpetuating behaviours I don’t even remember.
- Food Safety FAIL: So, I am cheap, yes? Everyone knows this. So you will not be surprised to learn that the due date on a bag of milk passed one day, and the next day I thought, OH SURELY IT’S STILL FINE. And so I poured it on my oatmeal, and watched as it TURNED TO CHEESE. Whoops.
- Work FAIL: I work from home, very part time, for a friend, helping him with some administration/office tasks. One half-day a week, I’ll go in to do things I can’t do from home, like processing payments or whatever. My daughter goes to a sitter on those days. But fairly frequently, my sitter has been “unavailable”, and I have taken Stinkerbelle with me into the office, where she watches videos or colours or generally tries to be patient while I get some stuff done. I don’t enjoy those days, and neither does she, and increasingly as she gets older it is getting harder and more unfair for me to drag her along. But, against my better judgement, I still do, and yesterday I did as well. Fortunately, no one was in the office, because she was impatient and bored and generally behaving like a bored three year old. And I was frustrated and angry — with her, with myself, and with my boss for pushing me to do this. So after a frustrating and unproductive morning, I have resolved that if the occasion presents itself again when I have no sitter, I am going to have to just tell him NO. It’s not fair to her, and it’s not a positive or productive time for me. And if that doesn’t work for him, then that’s just too bad.
- Aging FAIL: I love coffee. LOVELOVELOVE coffee. Every morning, I drink two huge buckets full of coffee. Now, recently I mentioned that I have been having some issues with my stomach and cramps and real pain for about 18 hours, like I had eaten a rock and can feel it work its way painfully peristaltically through my entire digestive system. This began when I was in university, maybe 21 or so, and at that time it happened once or twice a year. My doctor at the time said it was likely an inability to process iron, which is hard on the bowel. Okay, so… twice a year — no biggie. Only over the years, slowly, this increased in frequency, until it happened once last week and then again this week. And, if I am honest, thinking about it rationally, I think the trigger may, in fact, be… COFFEE. My beloved coffee! I refuse to believe my favourite coffee could be so cruel! I mean, I know as people get older they can’t eat what they once did, but… NO! I am in denial. Until the whole nauseated and painful thing happens again, and then MAYBE I WILL CONSIDER IT.
- Blogging FAIL: Yes, I know, there’s a big gap in my calendar where posts should have been. WHAT I AM VERY BUSY AND IMPORTANT. Also, I was knitting.
- Bonus FAIL: I am making bread with a breadmaker, and it looks after two-and-a-bit hours not so much like a bread LOAF as a bread WAD. I think my yeast is dead. DEADDEADDEAD. I has a disappoint.
Mar
5
Well, it’s that time again… time for most of you to click away to a more interesting site while I talk about MY KNITTING PROJECTS!!
(Don’t everyone rush out of here at once.)
February is done and dusted, and I didn’t get as much done, knitting-wise, as I would have liked. I did, however, spend a lot of time and effort getting my stash organized, which has been needed for a long time. So that was good.
So, first off, for my 12 hats in 2012 challenge… I didn’t do anything. Well, that’s not true. My organization of stash was specifically for that project, so I would know what I had to work with. AND it helped me plan for a big sale last week where I bought a bunch more yarn, for pennies, specifically for my hats. So, more to come in March!
(Okay, true confession time: I have been working on a hat, every weekend during Stinkerbelle’s dance class. And the thing is? I’ve started this hat FIVE TIMES NOW. And also frogged it FIVE TIMES. Twice, I miscounted and cast on the wrong number of stitches, and it took me a couple rows to realize it. Twice, as I am knitting in the round, I twisted my stitches. And once, I got most of the way finished when I realized that I didn’t have enough of that yarn to get ALL THE WAY finished, so I frogged it and decided to make some contrasting stripes in the hat instead. THIS YARN IS CURSED, I TELL YOU WHAT.)
ANYWAY… Moving on.
For my first 12 in 2012 challenge, I made the first five 9×9 squares (of maybe 25 or 30) for BDH’s Big Blanket:
What is wrong with the colour in those pictures? It’s all different. TRUST ME THE YARN IS THE SAME. I blame the photographer.
In my second 12-in-12, I did all the February days in my Weather Wrap blanket project. Which is going to look much the same as it did in January because DUDE. WINTER. THE WEATHER’S THE SAME AS JANUARY.
Oh well. Here you go — February:
I am learning a lot from this first kick at the can. First, I will choose a different stitch pattern if I do it again next year. I don’t like the look of the colour changes. Second, I’ll choose different colours and plan for lots of contrast OR for complementary colours. And third, I’ll make it about half again as wide. But it’s not bad as a stashbuster.
And the other projects I’ve been working on in that 12 in 2012 challenge? Well, it’s a secret. I am making some THINGS. For some FRIENDS. And that is ALL I am going to say about THAT. But I am really kind of giggling like a little girl about these projects. And you can see what I made once I give it to the (un)lucky recipients.
So, it’s not a lot. But I’m still clicking along and keeping pace to get everything done, and enjoying what I am working on. And I guess that’s the point, really.
Mar
2
Let’s see how high I am registering on the FAIL-o-meter this week.
- Meat FAIL: On Fridays, generally speaking, Stinkerbelle and I have time to go pick up some groceries in the morning. But last week, we had Thursday free, so we went and got them on Thursday. I am big on stocking up when there is a sale, so I bought extra chicken and ground beef, some for meals during the week and some bound for the freezer. Stinkerbelle likes to help put the groceries away, but it CAN get a bit frazzled as she is somewhat random with cans going in the fridge and produce plopped onto the playroom floor and the like. (And let’s not even talk about the times she tries to put away glass jars. Ahem.) So, I try to put things away as expeditiously as possible, and so I put the meat in the fridge to be divided out and put away later. Except… the meat got put in the vegetable crisper, which, in rooting through the fridge later in the day, got covered by a package of lettuce. Where it sat. All week. During a busy week. Until dinnertime last night where I was suddenly overcome with the horror of realization that I had forgotten about it. It was, say, 5 days past its best before date, and when I finally retrieved it, it was looking pretty nasty. So, there’s 20 bucks dumped in the garbage.
- Shopping FAIL: The yarn factory outlet about an hour’s drive from here is known for its awesome warehouse/tent sales, which happen every four months or so, and one of which is happening right now. I have heard about this place for YEARS, but never went. However, I work about 20 minutes away, so yesterday I figured that after work, I’d pick up That Girl from her sitter and we’d take a little detour over to get some yarn and needles. I picked her up, and off we went, along the most desolate and sloppy roads in all of Mennonite country. But we made our way there, and I carried Stinkerbelle through the mud of the parking lot, ready to BUY ALL THE THINGS. And when we went in, we found… A ROOM SMALLER THAN OUR LOCAL YARN STORE. With some sales, yes, but on a very limited variety of yarns and colours, hardly any needles, and a few bins of outrageously good deals on mill ends of yarn that I couldn’t really care less about because I already have a metric ton of cotton and acrylic THANKYOUVERYMUCH. And then I made Stinkerbelle sit patiently, sweating, while I bought yarn I didn’t really want or need. Thankfully, it was cheap, because I bought EIGHT POUNDS OF IT.
- Directional FAIL: So, I went driving all over Christendom yesterday to buy yarn I didn’t really want, yeah? And then, I came home, and as I was on a busyish highway around rush hour, I decided to take a back road which I normally take to and from work and that is never busy. It just required a little detour over to the east of the road I was on at the time. Except I missed the turn. So I took the next one, which was A SWAMP through WELL FERTILIZED FARM COUNTRY. And now? My car looks like a mudball. I would expect someone to write WASH ME in the layers of dirt caked on doors and windows, except for the fact that it’s dirt from farm country and is probably liberally scented with Eau de Sheep Turd.
- Hair FAIL: My kid has longish and very, VERY thick hair. We have a routine wherein swimming class happens on Tuesday mornings, and after nap on Tuesday afternoon, she has some tub time and I wash and condition her hair. Then, I put some TV on the laptop and sit her in her chair with a few snacks and a drink, and I take the hour and a half or so it takes to do her hair. The style generally lasts the week, better with styles where I put little clips in to combat the flyaways. But the longevity of a style is helped tremendously by the fact that Stinkerbelle has always worn a satin sleep cap. She LOVES her cap, and will wake up and cry if it somehow comes off in the middle of the night. But, last night, after a long day and short nap, it was my job to put That Girl to bed, and she was more than willing to go. And we BOTH forgot about her hat, for, like, the first time in YEARS. And it was only this morning, when BDH got her up, that we all noticed she hadn’t worn it. Well, that and the FUZZBALL HAIRDO.
- Decorum FAIL: This morning, Stinkerbelle and I went grocery shopping. It was busy. Stinkerbelle visited with her public as we strolled through the store. She and I talked about what we had to buy together. We sang the odd snippet of songs we heard over the noisebox. Occasionally Stinkerbelle danced. And I chatted with our former neighbour who I happened upon in the dairy aisle. At which point, one of the staff we usually see came along and said, “I knew you guys were here. I COULD HEAR YOUR VOICE ALL THE WAY OVER THERE” (as she pointed to aisles far and wide and nowhere near where we were standing.) So what you are saying, Nancy, is that I am loud and I talk too much, am I right? And that my kid takes after me? GREEEEAAAAT. KTHXBAI.
Feb
28
It’s Tuesday already? Really? Are you sure?
It seems like the last few days have been really busy. Like, REALLY busy. They haven’t been, not overly. And yet, here I am marvelling that tomorrow is Wednesday and already I have to put the garbage out.
We’ve gotten a lot done in a few days. Cleaning. Laundry. School. Exercise. Dancing. Swimming. And I have had a bit more work than usual to do, actual paying work, which is always welcome but adds to the busy.
We’ve auditioned a babysitter, who came and got to know Stinkerbelle’s routine and sat with her for a couple of hours so BDH and I could go out on our first “date” night since August 2008. They hit it off splendidly, and BDH and I had and OMG DEELISH supper, in which I had a divine beef vindaloo that satisfied a craving for curry that I have had for lo, these many months. So that was nice.
Our new sitter also runs her own very reasonably priced cleaning business, so we’re having her come clean twice a month. Which should have started today. And that meant rushing about tidying up and getting ready as one does (because paying for cleaning does not equal paying for washing dishes or putting away toys or making sure our shoes are in the rack. That is just silly.) So rush, rush, rush… and then she didn’t come.
She was in a car accident on the way here this morning. She is fine, but it meant a morning first of rushing, then of waiting, then of worrying, then of sort-of-frantically trying to get hold of her to make sure she was okay. So that was exciting.
And then, yesterday, I was ill. I’ve got this intestinal… thing… that flares up every couple of months and leaves me out of commission for, like, 18 hours. So I was medicated and trying to sleep the pain off a lot yesterday. So I kind of lost a part of yesterday a little bit.
Yeah. It’s been a full couple of days, and now? It’s suddenly Tuesday.
My knitting has been, sadly, neglected. Cooking has been a little hit-and-miss. Tomorrow we’re expecting yet another freezing rainfest of doom. And the cats are actually, physically, demanding attention.
On the plus side, Stinkerbelle has learned how to pedal her tricycle LIKE A BOSS around the main floor of the house. So that’s kept her busy, too. WAIT NO THAT’S NOT EXACTLY ON THE GOOD PARENTING CHECKLIST. Especially when she pedals backwards off the edge into the sunken living room and tumbles arse over teakettle. Without a helmet on. WHOOPS.
Well, I did have the presence of mind to tie a balloon to her handlebars so I couldn’t COMPLETELY lose sight of her as she whipped around the house. So, that’s gotta be worth SOMETHING. Right?
Is it March yet?
Feb
24
My kid loves snow. LOVES. IT. Whereas I hate it. She should have been born here in Canada, and I should have been born in Africa.
She loves everything about snow. She loves the cold, she loves to play in it, she loves how it looks and feels and tastes. But this winter has been very disappointing, with almost no snow, and lots of cold, damp days. Hardly the type of winter for a snow-loving kid to enjoy.
So, when the weather predicted 15 cm snow starting last night and through today — really, our first big snow of the entire winter, and probably the last — we were kind of excited. She was excited for OMG SNOW, and I admit I was kind of excited at the prospect of getting out and shovelling the driveway and for Stinkerbelle to have the opportunity to play and get some fresh air and burn off some energy.
We did all our shopping yesterday so that today, we’d be safe at home and not have anywhere to go. And we planned for maybe a little shovelling, probably some snowman-building, and definitely a lot of playing. And last night before tucking That Girl into bed, under a snowfall warning, we talked about maybe having a nice warm bath and some cocoa after playing in the snow, which is always a big payoff for Stinkerbelle.
This morning, we woke up to a blanket of fresh snow. Stinkerbelle was beside herself with excitement. She was all CAN I PUT MY BOOTS ON NOW PLEASE despite still being in her jammies and not having even had breakfast yet. I said we had to wait and see, but first we needed to have breakfast and get play clothes on.
And as we sat and ate breakfast, we waited for the snow.
BDH left for work. Still no snow. We waited.
Then the phone rang. BDH was on his way to work, and the snow had started. I looked outside and big fat flakes had begun to fall. YAY! There was a loud rejoicing.
So off we went after breakfast to get play clothes on. And, sitting in Stinkerbelle’s room helping her get dressed, I noticed the sound.
There was a strange ticking sound, like something hitting the window.
IT WAS RAINING.
Not exactly rain. More like rain mixed with snow. Our snow day was disappearing into a big, gloppy, wet mess.
And, checking the forecast, our snowfall warning is gone, and in its place… RAIN. Rain mixed with snow, and cold wind, and a crappy day all around, weather-wise.
So now, we sit in the attic, me mining the TVO website for entertainment for Stinkerbelle, who is bitterly disappointed at not being able to go out and play in the snow.
We should never have told her that it was going to snow today. We should have known better, that Environment Canada has been wrong all winter long, and that we should not have gotten our hopes up. But everywhere we went yesterday, people talked about the coming snow, and asked Stinkerbelle if she was going to toboggan, or build a snowman, or just if she was excited about the snow.
We should have known better. WeatherMom FAIL.
No amount of Zoboomafoo and Word World is going to make up for this one. I think I might have to break out The Mixer to make amends. And even that might not do it.
Feb
22
It’s been a decent sort of day here today. I like that.
We’re getting back into routine after a week at home. Stinkerbelle had a cold — nothing too serious, but OMG THE BOOGERYNESS. And nobody, not even the most dedicated of preschool teachers, wants to deal with a boogity mess. So, even though she was mostly feeling okay, we kept her home last week.
She was SO. COMPLETELY. BORED. So this week, going back to swimming and school, has been excellent for her, to expend some energy and play, And for me too — today was a particularly positive day at school.
As you know, we have been dealing with, or more accurately, trying to deal with, some of That Girl’s issues — her language delays, her oral-motor issues, and her odd little “quirk” which is not a seizure although it might look that way — for a couple of years now. The speech therapy here in town was a complete bust. The. Worst. And the occupational therapy, while well-intentioned, made no absolutely headway whatsoever. We’ve been spinning our wheels for two and a half years now.
But starting with this awesome infant developmental worker named Monica about a year and a half ago, and moving into her absolutely fantastic preschool, and after Monica’s hand-off to Susan, a colleague in her organization, Trellis, who comes into Stinkerbelle’s classroom… I feel like things are getting done. I feel like people are watching, and working, and helping with That Girl’s issues.
Today is where it all came to a nice head, though, as I went to pick Stinkerbelle up after class and was handed a yellow duotang.
This book contains a daily assessment sheet, which the team of Susan and Trellis and Stinkerbelle’s preschool teachers have decided will be filled out each day to tell us what That Girl is doing in class each day. It shows what she’s doing well at, and what she needs work on. It addresses all the basic developmental issues we are concerned with, in the scope of Stinkerbelle’s day in the classroom.
AND… It has a section for SNACK TIME. SNACK TIME!11!!1Eleventy!!11!!
Someone is listening. People are helping. I was thrilled.
So I stayed behind at school to discuss the book with Stinkerbelle’s teachers. Not only does it allow for their assessment each day, but we are to bring it home and if we have any thoughts or questions or concerns we just add them to the sheet. And then we take it back next day, and the process repeats.
Further to that, Stinkerbelle’s teacher Mrs. Alison is now moving forward to get a speech therapist AND an occupational therapist in the classroom to work with Stinkerbelle in the course of her school day. No more artificial, clinical situations — they can observe and assist in real-time. This is HUGE for me.
Finally, I brought Stinkerbelle’s little “quirk” to the teacher’s attention. I asked if they had ever observed it, and would they mind keeping track of when it occurs. I was explaining that we have been searching for an answer, for some help, to get this diagnosed and under control all this time, and it’s either been dismissed or nobody has been able to observe and/or identify it. They knew EXACTLY what I was talking about, and noted that it only seemed to happen around snack time.
But the most wonderful thing of all was to have That Girl’s other teacher, Mrs. Carolyn, say “My daughter used to do the exact same thing”, down to minute movements and expression, and to tell us that it was nothing but a processing issue that she simply grew out of as she caught up developmentally.
I know, it’s anecdata. But STILL. Somebody who KNOWS. Someone with EXPERIENCE. And someone who reassures us that nothing is wrong.
I sat down at my computer and just cried with relief. Two and a half years of searching and asking and someone FINALLY understands and can speak to it. I had not realized the stress it had caused BDH and myself until just today.
So, even though Stinkerbelle whined and fussed and acted the Drama Llama throughout because OMG MUST GO HOME AND EAT SAMMICH AND WATCH DINOSAUR TRAIN NOW STOP YOU ADULTS TALKING I AM SO HARD DONE BY, that little 15 minute discussion has made for a really positive day.
A little good news is always welcome.
Feb
15
Well, two balloons, actually.
Yesterday, as you know, was Valentine’s Day. We don’t generally do much for Valentine’s Day here. Never have done. But Stinkerbelle is home sick with a cold this week, and had to miss her Valentine’s Day party at school. So I thought we could do something special to mark the day since she wasn’t at school celebrating with her little pals.
So we decided yesterday to make cupcakes. We weren’t going out to a store for mixes or anything, so it had to be from scratch. That’s fine for us, because that gives That Girl the chance to use The Mixer.
She loves The Mixer. It’s a KitchenAid stand mixer, and between the pouring in of ingredients and the turning on of the beater, she’s positively giddy about baking. So that’s good for an hour or so of fun, plus the time it takes to bake the cupcakes and frost them.
So that was good. We made pink-frosted vanilla cupcakes as a surprise for Daddy. And Stinkerbelle made him a homemade valentine covered in stickers.
What we didn’t realize, however, was that Daddy had plans of his own for HIS valentines. These were revealed to us when, half an hour after his anticipated arrival time, the doorbell rang. And there stood BDH, with flowers for me.
And two GIANT balloons for Stinkerbelle.
When I say “giant”, I mean these balloons are as big as she is. And they play MUSIC.
Specifically, the same line from a 70s pop song. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. All that is required to get them to play is a tap on the outside of the balloon. Or, since they are full of helium, bumping up against the ceiling.
Which, you have probably already surmised, happens VERY FREQUENTLY when there’s a three year old tugging on the ribbons attached to the bottom.
VERY FREQUENTLY INDEED.
This means that the same line from the same pop song plays every time — sometimes in a weird out-of-sync stereo when both balloons are being yanged around by That Girl. And she commences a little jig of joy along with the music every single time.
Fingers pointed in a little disco dance vibe, arms waving, bum wiggling, little feet jigging up and down… Stinkerbelle loves a good dance party. Even one that is balloon-generated.
So, you know, it’s hard to get annoyed when that happens. No matter how often I hear the snippet of song (and I won’t tell you what it is, so that I don’t earworm you — I LOVE YOU THAT MUCH, MAN) whenever I see that little dance of happiness, or see her hands clapping together with glee at making the music start again, it’s totally worth it.
(Although in the interest of full disclosure, the balloons say they’re good for 50 plays of the song. I’m counting.)
Feb
13
My daughter got invited to attend her first actual birthday party on the weekend. By a friend from school. Who is a BOY.
Two weeks ago, I got a call from the mom of one of Stinkerbelle’s classmates, who wanted to invite her to his birthday party. There would be three other little boys plus Stinkerbelle at the party. When I told BDH about the invitation from a boy, he was surprised. So I asked him what he was going to do. He replied: “What any reasonable man would do. I’m calling a building contractor and installing a dungeon. . .and a moat. A BIIIIIIG moat.”
(Okay, he totally didn’t react that way. I just made that up just then. But it’s a line from Sports Night that we like to throw around any time Stinkerbelle and “boys” are used in the same sentence. So I thought I’d use it here, too.)
We were actually really pleased that Stinkerbelle was invited to a party. We were thrilled that she has found friends in her little school, and this little fellow is one of her Bestest Peeps Evah. She talks about him all the time, and he about her, so we were also quite chuffed that his parents were okay with inviting her as well. Sometimes it’s weird for some parents, I think, to try to accommodate one of the opposite sex in a room full of what they are familiar with. But his mom was making it a very low-key “party” in that there were just a few kids invited and it was in the morning, for a couple of hours of play and a pizza and cupcake lunch, so it would be no problem.
So, last week, Stinkerbelle and I trooped to the mall to buy a birthday card and present and wrapping for the birthday boy. She was VERY excited to go to his house and play.
And when she arrived, we watched as she dove in with the cars and the action figures and the floor hockey with the boys. There was even a bouncy castle in the basement that they could play on (with no one cracking heads together, thankfully). And the boys included her in everything and fired floor hockey balls at her and were generally pleased that she had come to play.
It was nice. I was a tomboy as a kid, and never really got the whole “girly” thing. I was always more comfortable with the boys, and got along better with them, and was in sports so, yanno. So I kind of “get” that.
But Stinkerbelle is not sure what side she comes down on, whether she’s about the sports and the boys or the princesses and the girls. And that’s fine. She might love to jump and kick a ball and will choose a Buzz Lightyear bandaid over a Disney Princess one, but she still loves to dance and wear swirly dresses and play with dollies and look at her pretty hair in the mirror. She has lots of time to decide.
Anyway, she had a lovely time and was sad to leave. When the time came to go, the birthday boy’s mom gave her a special treat bag with a pink ball and some princess dolls — including a brown one, which instantly endeared them to us for being so thoughtful. And when she got home, at naptime, she would not take off her special ladybug birthday hat (all the boys got dinosaurs, which she would have been equally happy with.)
It was a great time for all, I think. Stinkerbelle was so happy to go have playtime with her friends, and we were so pleased to meet and chat with some of the other parents. And while the best part for Stinkerbelle was, I think, the bouncy castle, the best part for us was to know that our daughter has made some friends. It’s all most parents want in life, really — for their child to be happy and comfortable with and loved by those around him or her.
So while we joke about having to build a moat to keep out all the boys as Stinkerbelle gets older — and we may still, if she continues winning over all the boys as she does — we’ll also have to consider building a drawbridge to let in all the friends she seems to be making as she laughs and charms her way though life. I hope so. I’d like that.
We can always pull the drawbridge up by the time she’s a teenager, right?
Feb
9
Yesterday, Stinkerbelle and I came home from school at noon, as we normally do. After we got our coats and shoes and bags put away, That Girl ran into her playroom to play, while I went into the kitchen to start making lunch.
She came into the kitchen all sad, with a seriously deflated purple balloon. She asked me to fix it and I said I couldn’t. But we normally keep a little bag of balloons in the junk drawer, and it takes a matter of moments for BDH to blow one up. (I, the asthmatic, am full of FAIL at balloon inflation.) So, I suggested, maybe she could ask Daddy to get her a new one when he came home.
So she left the kitchen. And she fussed with her toybox for awhile.
A short time later, I saw that she had gotten her (disconnected, cast-off from Dad’s computer) computer keyboard out of her toybox, and brought it into the kitchen.
I asked her what she was doing. She told me she was typing a message to Daddy so he would fix her balloon.
“Good idea”, I told her, and left her to type while I finished lunch.
She typed very intently and then said “All done!” and put away her keyboard. She had “sent” a message to her dad to tell him about her sad balloon.
Off we went then, to have our lunch, and afterwards, for Stinkerbelle to have her nap.
When she got up from her nap, she came into my room and saw me typing on my laptop. She held up one finger very purposefully and told me that SHE had typed a message to Daddy about her purple balloon, for when he comes home.
“I see”, I said. And quickly fired off an email to let BDH know that he had been messaged about his balloon.
We went downstairs, so that I could start planning and preparing for supper while That Girl played with her toys. She went into the playroom and saw her sad balloon and burst into tears. I told her not to worry, because she had told Daddy about it and maybe he could fix it.
She got her keyboard out, and again set to typing ANOTHER message to Daddy.
Meanwhile, I messaged Daddy again, lest he did not know about The Balloon Disaster yet. He did, and, asking me to check that we had balloons in the junk drawer, made plans to “fix” her balloon. He asked me to put one out in the mailbox, but when I mentioned how it might not be good to have it out in the cold waiting for him, he changed his mind.
I went back to preparing supper.
Stinkerbelle did not forget about the balloon, however, and periodically mentioned her balloon and her messages to Daddy. Then, as he was on his way home, she went to the front window and began calling out “DAAAAADDDY, WHERE AAAAARE YOU” and “CAN YOU FIX MY BALLOOOOOOON PLEEEEEEEEEASE”.
Finally, I had to put a stop to the calling and the typing and such, and get Stinkerbelle started on dinner. She burst into sobbing. “Daddy’s NEVER coming home again! He NEVER fix my balloon!”
I got her calmed down by putting on some video of herself, dancing. Nothing That Girl enjoys more than video of herself.
Just then, Daddy came home. She ran from the table to greet Her Hero, who was holding a shiny red heart-shaped helium balloon and a plate of Valentine’s sugar cookies.
He had stopped at the grocery store to get Stinkerbelle a balloon, but found that the florist dept. (which sells the balloons) was closed. He had the manager called down, who explained that the floral department had recently changed hours and closed at 6 pm now, a full hour previously.
The manager left, and BDH found himself explaining the story to one of the checkout ladies, who ALL know Stinkerbelle well and fuss on her whenever she’s in. Just then, one of the senior checkout staffers, who ALSO knows Stinkerbelle well and has a dance party with her whenever she is in, stopped by and heard BDH’s story about the sad balloon and the emails from That Girl.
“Oh, just go cut him one of the display balloons!”, she told her colleague.
And with that, Stinkerbelle suddenly had a bright, shiny heart balloon. Free of charge, because they wouldn’t take any money for it. (BDH felt grateful and slightly guilty, so he bought the plate of cookies to make up the difference.)
Now, That Girl has a balloon that she loves (well, two actually, because BDH blew up the one in the junk drawer, just in case), and a Daddy she knows gets her messages that she needs his help. (And, as it happens, a couple of friends at the local grocery store who get them, too.)
Feb
7
I set myself a lot of goals, knitting-wise, for 2012. I’m a notorious project-starter, so by setting goals I will be compelled to finish what I start. And by that I mean, I work well on a deadline so I have something to push me to get things done. Plus, I said it out loud, on Teh Interwebs, so there’s the whole guilt factor.
I promised to make at least 15 hats for Melissa for distribution to herd boys in Lesotho. I’ve got four done, plus six or seven I made previously. So that’s good progress.
(click photos to embiggen)
I said I’d make 12 projects in 2012 for another challenge that I am using to get some long-standing, much-neglected projects done. Like a quilt I had planned for Stinkerbelle, originally planned as 16 squares… and somehow I stalled around 8 squares. Plus she’s bigger now, so I should make it bigger. Anyway, I am plugging along on that one, and have added a couple of squares to the pile. I’ve also used that project to do some charity squares at the same time.
Another 12-in-2012 challenge I am using to get some personal projects done. Things like covers for the chair legs in the kitchen (“chair socks”) and for the Kobo e-readers BDH and I got for Christmas.
Part of that 12-in-2012 is a blanket. It’s called a Weather Wrap throw, and it means knitting two rows each day to reflect the weather for that day — so, for example, if it is sunny, I knit two rows of yellow. If it snows, two rows of white. That kind of thing. It’s a stashbuster project, a way to use up yarn that’s been sitting unused in my stash FOR EVAH. I’m really enjoying it though, and if I can keep it up, I think by year’s end it will be cool to have a record of what it was like this year.
So it’s been a productive month so far. Let’s see if I am as productive come the sweltering summer months.
Feb
1
Today I went to the dentist. It was nice.
Not that I enjoy going to the dentist, mind you. Although sometimes I can get freaked out when I know the probe-under-the-gums thing is happening and I dread it for days, most of the time it’s just a cleaning and I can relax and treat it like a massage. I even almost nod off sometimes. Today was one of those days.
But also, now that we have a good routine and BDH handles the school run when I need to go to an appointment, it’s a little time to myself. And, more and more, BDH and I both are finding that we are starting to reclaim some of our “me time”.
Although we miss the babyhood years and do not regret them for a moment, the fact that Stinkerbelle is growing older and more independent does have some benefits. The routine of school has certainly lent itself to me getting to see the dentist regularly, as well as providing a regularly scheduled time for me to do some work.
Also, now that That Girl is growing more independent, having to take time in the evening to go to the doctor or for BDH to go to soccer or for me to go for a hair appointment is not the challenge it used to be, when Stinkerbelle was more needy and more reliant on us, or as she grew and would cry with separation anxiety when one of us left. Now, we are able to explain what we are doing and why we are leaving, and the tears only happen when she is tired or hungry (or, sometimes, has missed time with BDH during a busy week).
The next step is for BDH and I to have a date night. It has been three and a half years since we have had a night out alone together. (I always laugh to myself when I meet new parents who are complaining about not getting out for SO LONG OMG IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS. Please. Try three YEARS.) Part of that is because we have no support system here, family or friends, to step in and babysit. Part of it has been because, with her issues and delays, we were unsure that the regular old neighbourhood teen babysitter would be a good fit for Stinkerbelle’s challenges, or that she would be able to understand fully what was going on. So family or friends would have been a better fit to babysit, if we had had them.
A large part of it is because we are homebodies, readily entertained here at home with computers and hobbies and videos and INTERNETS FOREVER.
But part of it is, we waited for so long to have this child in our lives, we just enjoy doing things WITH her. We go as a family to restaurants or out to places or events or to visit friends. We didn’t do a lot of things then that we can’t enjoy now as a family.
Except going out to a movie. We miss going to movies. We were big movie people, way back when. And it has been almost four years since we’ve been to the theatre, so we’re kind of looking forward to doing that again.
Way back when, before Stinkerbelle was a glimmer in anyone’s eye, before we were waiting to adopt, before all hopes of infertility treatment had failed, I made a promise: that if ever we were blessed to have a child, just one child, I would not complain. About anything. I would be grateful for the good providence that brought that child to us, and enjoy every moment, and let the tough stuff just roll off. I would take whatever came and remember that it is all good fortune, because so many people I know will never be able to experience ANY of it, the joys and the challenges, of parenthood. And for a long time, we believed we would be those people. So I would not complain about anything.
I think I have done pretty well, all things considered. But if I am totally honest, we have had precious little to complain about. We were totally ready to bring a child into our lives, and went in with our eyes completely open and prepared, some would say over-prepared, for whatever that child would bring us. And looking back, we were so unbelievably lucky to be united with such a wonderfully laid-back, funny, easygoing child. We didn’t have a lot of the challenges that a lot of adoptive parents do. We were incredibly fortunate, and blessed beyond our wildest dreams.
So, three and a half years passed pretty enjoyably, really. Not complaining has been mostly a non-issue.
And now it occurs to us, three and a half years later, that maybe it might be time to go out on a date again.
Stinkerbelle is independent enough now that, after she gets comfortable with a babysitter, she probably won’t notice much that we’re out for a few hours, and sociable enough that she will be chuffed to just have somebody NEW to play with. So… maybe dinner AND a movie. And we have a night out planned with Janna and Andrew in March that will be a real big time out for us.
But even once we get set on a sitter and her comfortable with us, I don’t think it will change things all that much, homebodies that we are. It’ll give us a little more flexibility, and we can take more opportunities to go out and do stuff that we didn’t before, like movies and Christmas parties and such. Maybe we’ll get out and JOIN groups and PLAN stuff and DO things, As People Do.
Or not. We’ll probably still have most of our fun at home with each other. (And some knitting. And THE INTERNETS.)
We’re enjoying this time that will pass so quickly with our daughter, so we’re still not prepared to miss TOO much of that. And we’d miss her, that kid we waited so long for, and the fun she brings to our life together.
But the siren song of the cinema IS calling to us. With a giant bag of popcorn. With REAL BUTTER OMG YES. And not having to do The Potty Tour of every bathroom within a mile’s radius of where we’re sitting. That might be nice.
Jan
24
BDH is taking a week’s vacation this week. He’s been sick, like we all have, for six weeks now, and it’s been a good five or six months since his last vacation. So he opted to take a week off and just rest and hang out.
One of the nice things is that, during this time, he gets the opportunity to get back in touch with what his daughter does in the course of a day. Being at work all day, five days a week most weeks, he gets what she does, on an intellectual level. Of course. But he doesn’t really get to experience what she does, or see the little things that I get to see but don’t mention, and perhaps take for granted.
Take swimming class, for example. Today was the first time in two years of swimming lessons that BDH has had the chance to see That Girl in swim class. He had not even been in the recreation centre before today. He just didn’t have the opportunity. But he got to sit and watch his girl paddle about — well, dunk underwater, mostly, because that is all she seems to want to do — and he really got a kick out of it.
I forget, sometimes, that these things are new and fun for him, because I see them all the time. And I forget that the little things that I take for granted may be the things that give him the greatest joy in a day with Stinkerbelle.
He has done the school run this week, and gotten to be the recipient of the joyous run-and-hug at the door that finishes each school day for Stinkerbelle. Tomorrow he’s going to get up with her and get her fed and ready for school, so I can have a sleep-in day. He’s going to sit in with me at a meeting with her developmental coordinator tomorrow. He is having breakfast with his best girl every day. And lunch. And playtime. We may even get out for a walk in the woods one day, if the weather cooperates.
I forget all the little things that make my day full and rewarding, that he gets to experience new on these days off. I think that, although he’d also love to be able to sleep in and play is online game and relax all day, he is enjoying his week as a stay-at-home dad.
It’s no week in Barbados, and no mistake. But he wouldn’t get as many kisses and hugs and moments of joy in a week in Barbados, either.
Jan
20
When I was living in Japan, being tall and athletic, I couldn’t buy clothes. Most conventional sizes stopped where I began, and certainly would never have been tall enough. So, because I needed clothes, I had to make my own.
Now, back in junior high school, I was not what you’d call a girly girl. And, to be fair, I am STILL not what anyone would call a girly girl. But back then, having no mom or similarly female frame of reference on which to base my ideas of what was feminine, I was not schooled so much in the finer arts of cooking and housekeeping and sewing.
So, when the time came for Home Ec class, I was so incredibly inept at sewing that by about the middle of term, my lovely Home Ec teacher recognized that sewing was going to be an exercise in frustration and failure for me, not to mention any machine I touched, and gently banned me from ever using the sewing machines again. (Cooking proved to be a lot more successful.)
Bearing this in mind, when I was in Japan, and needing clothes, I decided it was time to suck it up and learn, else I go naked through the train system of Osaka. So I sent home for my sewing machine to be shipped to me, and thus began my generally pleasant and mutually respectful relationship with my Singer.
The clothes I made were functional, but looking back, pretty awful. I bought remnants of cheap poly-cottons, and I knew nothing of lining and interfacing. But for the most part, my seams were straight, my zippers and buttonholes worked, and I looked relatively respectable from a distance.
When I came home from Japan, during the 30 or so hours of travel, I must have looked a ridiculous sight, schlepping through train station and airport, carting my faithful Singer in one hand and a fairly large stuffed toy duck in the other. The duck couldn’t fit anywhere else. And the sewing machine? I was not taking ANY chances shipping, and so carried it and stowed it and made sure it got home safely. It got a crack in the case, but otherwise arrived unharmed.
And then, it sat neglected for much of the last 20 years in closets in the various places I have lived.
I have taken it out, but very rarely. I was making real money, when I got home, so if I needed something I bought it. Sewing was not something I LOVED to do, like knitting. It was something I learned how to do and needed to do, but I didn’t love it. Occasionally, I made something like curtains, and planned and gathered fabric for a quilt for Stinkerbelle, and mended clothing and other items that needed it. But I never really loved it.
And, over the last 20 years, my machine has begun to show its neglect. It is still in good working order, but the once cream-coloured plastic bits of the machine — the case, the handle and some facing bits, the removable tray part on which you put your fabric — has now turned a dull gold-yellow colour from dust and age, and combined with the still-cream metal parts, gives it an oddly retro two-tone look.
But although I don’t love sewing, I do love that machine. And so, this year, I saw it sitting neglected in my closet and decided to use it once again.
Back in September, you may recall, I made a bag for Stinkerbelle to take to school to bring home all her crafts. I found an easy pattern online and whipped up a cute little bag in an afternoon. And I had fabric under my bed that I had purchased a few years back because it was totally up my alley but had never used. So, when at New Years I decided on a bunch of knitting projects, and I realized that I had no storage for them, I thought of that little bag.
I decided to make some knitting project and storage bags out of that fab fabric.
Sewing is not something I can do with Stinkerbelle around, what with irons and ironing boards and pins and moving machine parts, but during naptimes on the weekend I have managed to make a few.
They’re nothing fancy, and on close inspection the seams are pretty shaky and there’s an errant half-a-buttonhole where I began a buttonhole for a drawstring only to realize it has been over 20 years since I used the buttonhole feature and could not really remember how it was supposed to work. So I abandoned it mid-buttonhole. We’ll call that “a feature”.
Each one has handles to grab and go, and a drawstring to pull tight so as not to lose any balls of yarn or needles or whatnot. And they’re various sizes, so I can tote small projects out to keep me busy during Stinkerbelle’s dance class or store larger projects and their yarn like my large Weather Wrap throw blanket.
But the handles on some are slightly wonky, and the drawstring holes are a bit makeshift due to the buttonhole issue (I’ll practice that for next time). And they’re unlined poly-cotton which means they won’t last as long as a lined bag or stronger fabric would. But each one is a learning experience, and will do for the time being, and so I am quite pleased with them.
Perhaps in future I’ll invest in some thicker, stronger fabric, or, more likely, line the bags with other fabric. But for now, they’ll do the job.
Now, my problem is no longer where to store my stash of yarn and projects, but where to store my many bags of yarn.
Jan
17
Stinkerbelle is recovering from a fairly nasty chest cold. And while she does, we’re housebound, for the most part.
This is good. She needs the quiet time. She’s not been sleeping well, so she’s pretty tired, but also, whenever she gets active, it sets her to coughing pretty furiously. So we have been trying to keep things pretty low-key.
This means we’ve been trying to find quieter activities. We have watched A LOT of TV, mostly gentle things like Kipper and School House Rock. We’ve folded loads of laundry. We got out the purse and hair bows and costume bling that That Girl got for Xmas and spent some time getting GORGEOUS, DAHLING. And I have done more laps of the attic than I care to count, pulling Stinkerbelle and assorted stuffed pals around in the wagon she got for Xmas from her Auntie Tena and Uncle Randy.
But it’s hard, being quiet and stuck at home, for both of us.
A couple of days ago, Stinkerbelle had a pretty rough night, and so the next day she was feverish and tired and her sleep schedule was totally effed up. Consequently, we found ourselves at 8 pm with a little girl who had no intention of sleeping. So we thought we’d let her sit up with us and watch something on TV.
The problem? We were watching one of our favourite movies, Pirate Radio. Which, set in the 60s in a rebellious floating rock radio station, you may know is peppered with a lot of the more colourful language that a pair of potty mouths like BDH and especially me have been trying to censor around the small parrot we call Stinkerbelle, at least until we can teach her the concepts of “appropriate use” and “power of language”, which won’t be for a long while yet. So.
But, remote control in hand, we figured we could just skip past the more colourful moments and just enjoy the brilliant music and the fun of the movie. So we did. Well, you can’t skip ALL the cuss words and off-colour references. PARENTING FAIL. But That Girl was pretty lethargic and quiet, and mostly was in it for the snuggle time with Daddy, and kind of dozed a bit of the time. So we had a nice time and when it was over, she was plonked into bed with no argument and went right to sleep.
But that night, I made note of the mess that is our movie collection since our reorganization of the attic space. And yesterday, I thought it would be something quiet to do for Stinkerbelle and I to sort and organize our movies together. I could sort and shelve, and Stinkerbelle had piles of movies to stack up and use like big blocks. So that was fun. We completely reorganized our shelves of movies, into what I thought was a good personal system but most people would find completely unfathomable.
So that was good for a couple of hours of fun for That Girl, AND I tacked a project that has needed doing for quite a while. And we chatted and played and sang songs while we worked.
Stinkerbelle has finally given up singing Christmas songs, and for the last week or so has been singing her usual school songs and kids’ songs. Sometimes she just sings random snippets of tunes or little songs she’s made up. But for the last day or two, she’s been singing a little song over and over again. It’s not been one I recognized, but that’s nothing new. I often don’t clue into the songs she’s picked up at school until I hear it from the source — Stinkerbelle’s versions tend to be faithful in spirit but not so much in lyrical accuracy or tunefulness.
Yesterday she kept singing this song, though. And then she’d look to me and say “Now your turn, Mommy!” I couldn’t join in because I had no idea what it was. She was growing frustrated that I could not clue in.
And then, yesterday afternoon, I asked her what she wanted to watch. She kept saying something about “The Girl” but I had no idea what she was talking about. So I sat here and watched her walk over to the shelves of videos. She looked through the spines of the videos — she can’t read, remember — and eventually, on the fourth shelf, she pulled out a video and said “THIS ONE, Mommy!” and thrust it at me.
Not a Disney movie, or a cartoon, or one of the many kids’ movies we have in our collection. Oh no. Not my kid.
It was Pirate Radio.
And she started singing her little song. And suddenly, I clued in.
I put Pirate Radio in the DVD player, and watched as Stinkerbelle sat, enraptured, as one of the best, most joyous opening scenes in our movie collection unfolded, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s awesome deejay’s intro and the opening strains of The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night” burst from our speakers. And in time with the music and the people dancing through the opening sequence, Stinkerbelle suddenly started singing along and dancing for all she was worth, a little jig of joy around the room.
I stifled the tears of pride and joined her singing and doing my best worst 60s dance moves.
When the opening sequence was done and the song was over, she shouted “AGAIN MOMMY!”
We watched it over and over, maybe ten times or more.
So much for restfulness. It seems That Girl had some energy to burn. And that pretty much indicated she was recovered from her cold.
She’s got a bit of a cough still, and we’re keeping her out of swimming today until the meds she’s got have had a good kick at the ear infection she had brewing. One more day at home will be good, and then it’s back to school tomorrow.
But I am sure today will be a more energetic day. And probably there will be some 60s rock and roll to keep things interesting.
Jan
13
For some people, the glass is half full. Others find it is half empty. Some people are just happy to be offered a glass.
Stinkerbelle is sick.
HATE: She was up all night coughing and feverish.
LOVE: Her little voice is all squeaky and froggy and it’s so cute when she talks.
Stinkerbelle is sick, Part Deux.
HATE: She’s feeling poorly and just wants to lay on the sofa and watch TV.
LOVE: More knitting time for me!!
There’s snow in the forecast.
HATE: It sucks for those of us who have to go out and commute to work in it, and those of us who worry about those who commute in it.
LOVE: It gives us an excuse to stay in. For some it is time to recuperate. For others, it is time to be lumps of knitting, period-drama-watching laziness.
I have a Kobo but it is temperamental.
LOVE: When it works, I want to READ ALL THE BOOKS.
HATE: WHY WON’T YOU WORK FOR ME???
Temperamental Kobo, Part the Second.
LOVE: It is seriously cutting back my online time, which is good because the Interwebs have been annoying me lately.
HATE: WHY MUST YOU DIE WHEN I AM WAITING ON EMAIL/SURFING IMDB/LOOKING FOR PATTERNS??
I am getting up early and exercising.
LOVE: It’s good for me!
HATE: OMG WAKING UP. NOT MY BEST THING.
I am a super online bargain shopper who got several pairs of slippers for myself and Stinkerbelle for around $6 apiece.
LOVE: I have warm feet during the day. Stinkerbelle has warm feet at night because she sleeps in hers, so that means fewer 3 AM wake up calls to cover her up.
HATE: Mine are slip ons and because one of my feet is about a size smaller than the other, I am forever blowing a shoe walking up or down the stairs. My slippers shall kill me. DEATH BY SLIPPER IT SHALL BE.
I have new glasses.
HATE: I am not getting used to them, and feel like I am drunk all the time, without the fun party beforehand.
LOVE: They cover up the embarrassing blemish on my nose and the raccoon-eyes caused by lack of sleep.
I got 4 tins of David’s Tea for Xmas.
LOVE: So delicious.
HATE: OMG DAVIDS TEA Y U NO CHEAPER.
