Archive - May 2012

1
That’s Not Bacon You’re Smelling, It’s Me.
2
Boy Toys?
3
Pee And Electrodes Don’t Mix
4
Blogging Can Be Hazardous To Your Health
5
Mother of the Year

That’s Not Bacon You’re Smelling, It’s Me.

    I’m too old to be this dumb..and reckless…and lazy. Wait, scratch that last one. People do get lazier as they age. I’m actually writing this post lying down while the kids fetch me things. Ahhhhh, this is what parenting is all about — “Beck and Call Kids.” Back to my stupidity. Last Sunday, a hot sunny scorcher, was spent poolside. The kids adequately lubed with sunscreen, were slipping and sliding and splashing while their idiotic mother watched from a lawn chair. “Do you have sunscreen on?” my pasty husband inquired. “You’re looking a little…pink.” “No. I don’t need sunscreen. I’m just getting a little colour on my legs.” I explained in an exasperated tone. Don’t men know anything? The chalky whiteness of my legs magnifies the rampant cellulite. This winter has not been kind. Frying my skin like a rash of bacon was a panicked attempt to camouflage the flabby tone of my hammy gams. Despite warnings from my husband that I *might* be burning, I continued to sizzle under the dangerous rays of the sun out of pure imbecilic vanity. The joke is on me however. Now I’m sunburned and my legs still look like stocky (red) golf balls.[…]

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Boy Toys?

  Is there really such a thing as a boy toy? I don’t mean in a Madonna sort of way…  I’m talking about gender specific toys. You know, dolls for girls, army men for boys. For the record, the dolls and army dudes totally hook-up after hours. Toy Story opened my eyes to that deviant underground society. My kids don’t pay much attention to gender labels. They play with whatever captures their imaginations in the moment. My son often plays with his sister’s most iconic of girl toys — the dollhouse. Mind you, it generally serves as the hideout for robots, dinosaurs and a regiment of Storm Troopers. My daughter plays with her dolls occasionally, but not for long. She’s at her happiest when she’s active. And sweaty. And dirty. What captures her interest most are bike rides, bugs in jars, soccer games and her new passion, baseball {which in our rather small yard has led to abundant trips to the neighbour’s on ball retrieval missions}. Yesterday while my creative boy was creating, my sporty girl was playing with her new Grow-to-Pro Triple Hit Baseball machine. She started out t-ball style, but soon graduated to auto pitch. She can load[…]

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Pee And Electrodes Don’t Mix

  So I hurt my back last week. Wearing flip flops. You know you’re old when… But I digress. My crooked spine is now in the firm hands of my chiropractor,  “Dr. Al Lignment.” After a few adjustments and a ample amount of yelling, I seem to be BACK to normal. Relatively speaking. I walked into my chiro’s office yesterday like the biped I was born to be. It felt great to be able to walk again without cursing; quite a nice relief for everyone within ear shot really. As I jumped up onto the torture table (Al says he doesn’t like it when I call it that, but I know he’s kidding. Quite a sense of humour that guy. Totally cracks me up. #ChiroPun) I announced, “My back is totally better!!” “No, no it’s not,” Al replied. “Apparently” I’m not some kind of miracle case and my back, though now realigned, still needs time to fully heal. Bah. It’s not that I don’t like going to see Al. I’m not afraid of the spine cracking. Even the neck cracking — bring it. It’s the time and the cost that hurt. Also, having to bring along my five year old[…]

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Blogging Can Be Hazardous To Your Health

  I’m old and infirm. I’m also unfirm, which is partly why I’m in this painful predicament. When I birthed my first child enormous melon pressed on my sciatic nerve which resulted in an epic Sciatica episode post partum. I literally could not walk until my chiropractor fixed me. Ever tried carrying a newborn while crawling on your hands and knees? Thankfully I never had another flare up until this week. And boy did it flare. I’m actually writing this post standing. I’m like a *giraffe who can’t lie down. When I was a teacher I was on my feet all day. I rarely sat. This was a good thing for my back. Now that I work from home (writing and managing several Social Media accounts) I’m on my butt the majority of the day with questionable posture most of the time. My back is a ticking time bomb… So after spending six hours walking around the zoo last week, cute but unsupportive flip flops was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I am the camel in this scenario and my sciatica reared it’s ugly head once again. I don’t recall childbirth being as painful. The shooting pains down my[…]

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Mother of the Year

When Heather lost her three year old son Zack, she didn’t stop being a mom. Though her heart was broken, Zack’s brothers needed her more than ever. So she embraced them and loved them as mothers do while she made a plan to keep a promise; the one she made to Zack and to herself as they said goodbye. She vowed to keep his memory alive and to have Elmo, Zack’s comfort and joy, speak his name. And that’s just what she did. Heather tirelessly raised money to create a room (two rooms in fact!) in Zack’s name at York Central Hospital. She also persevered until Kevin Clash (the puppeteer who IS Elmo) knew how much Zackie loved him. Kevin knows and he was touched. And Elmo did speak Zack’s name. Heather is healing with her family and she continues to tell Zack’s story, not only to keep his memory alive, but to help other families deal with the pain of losing a child.” Heather and I became friends online. We bonded over our special needs kids and soon discovered we had many other things in common. When my daughter was in hospital shortly after Zack died, Heather kept tabs on[…]

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