Maranatha Blues

The past couple of weeks I have had several songs running through my head. These are not necessarily songs you want running through your head.

If you grew up attending church in the 70's and 80's you might recognize some of these titles and you can see why I want them out.

If you didn't, well, count yourself lucky.

Joy is a Flag Flown High
It only Takes a Spark
Come into His Presence Singing Hallelujah
I've got a River


and this musical masterpiece

"Freely Freely"


I was trying to figure out where this music came from and how to make the Maranatha party in my head stop. Permanently.


I may not know how to gt rid of it, but today when I was clearing out my inbox I figured out how it got there.


I get a monthly e-mail from Joe fashions.


This is what was in this month's flyer.


The last time I saw that dress, I was singing those songs. Back in 1978. My mom wore the dress.


Mystery solved.

Now if we could just send the whole mess back to the 70's where it belongs.

Well, here we are in my parent's little town.

Yee haw.

The house is now packed and in storage somewhere (well, just the stuff, not the house itself, that would be a tight fit.) The boys and I are in our home away from home and we cannot seem to find Way Cooler.

Kidding. He is coming down in a few days once he finishes up all the house related stuff.

The packing went well. There is something kinda neat about sitting on your couch cuddled with your kids watching Treehouse while a middle-aged dude packs up your kitchen. Although my kids can't sit still long enough to cuddle so a more accurate description would be - sitting on a couch with Treehouse in the background while your kids use you as a jungle gym.

I tell you though, it is awesome having packers. Truly fabulous. I'd even write a sonnet about it except that involves poetry and I can't don't do poetry.


I am sure that there are now some family members who are saying to themselves "but didn't she win some poetry contest in high school?" Yes, you are correct, but that was when I was 17 and filled with angst. Well, at least as much angst as a W.A.S.P middle-class girl from the suburbs can have. Now, I just stick to blogging.

Anyway, the first half of the move is done and was terribly successful. I think the boy's favorite part was eating out 4 meals in a row and 3 of the 4 involved french fries. It just doesn't get much better than that when you are 2 and 3.

Now my poor parents just have to get through this month!

Literary Greats

As a former English teacher (and if that isn't a commentary on the state of education I don't know what is) I firmly believe in exposing your kids to good literature.  

I believe it sets a solid foundation for reading later in life.  

Around here we read all kinds of books, do nursery rhythms and finger plays and all sorts of educational stuff that kills time builds the brains of my growing children.

So, you wouldn't be surprised at all to hear me recite the following to my children yesterday after blowing a little nose for the 756th billion time.

She boogeyed in the kitchen

She boogeyed in the hall

She boogeyed on her finger

And she wiped it on the wall.

Clearly, they are set for life in the classics.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Well, actually in a mini-van, but it just doesn't have the same ring to it.

The move is this week.

Yes, you are right, we did just sell the house. Three weeks ago on Wednesday.

It's been a wee bit busy.

Just a bit.

HOWEVER, we are cheating and paying people to pack a fair bit of the stuff.

It's a bit of an extra expense but we decided that it was cheaper than therapy.

No, our new house will not be ready until May 1st.

The boys and I (and Way Cooler part time) will be moving in with my folks.

Pray for them.

This is the third time I've had to temporarily live with my parents in between moves. They are GOOD people. Suckers for punishment though.

So, as you can probably guess the posts will be few and far between this week. The packers come Wednesday and then we head down to my folks shortly there after.

DO not despair, my parent's tiny town does have internet (it came shortly after they got electricity a couple of years ago) so I will still be posting.

Just not till then.

The electricity thing was a joke. Their town has had it for at least 10 years now.

OK, I'll stop.

It's a Scary Web Out There

I sometimes think that maybe I am a touch paranoid.

Or Netanoid if you will.

I do not use our names online nor will I ever post pictures of my kids or myself.  I refrain from posting my own pictures because I want you all to picture me as blond, willowy and perky.  A picture would destroy that illusion.  However, my kids are the cutest on the planet so I'd love for you to see them but I am a little worried about the bad guys out there.

Sometimes I tell myself, "come on it's just a mommy blog.  13 people read it.  8 of them are related to you.  The bad dudes are on MySpace looking for naive 13 year olds, not 33 year old mommies in need of stylist and better hobbies."

However, then I am reminded of the power of the web.

One of my fave bloggers recently posted a funny piece in which she made a slight against an invented language.  It wasn't a major slam and in context it was quite funny. 

Veronica is a very intelligent, articulate writer of a mommy blog. Normally she flies under the radar and writes thought-provoking posts about life, theology and motherhood.

 

HOWEVER this time she used the name of this invented language and it showed up in Google blog alerts.  I won't because I don't need the headache, although I would like the traffic!

Apparently, if you are interested in  a particular subject you can have alerts sent to you whenever the subject is blogged about.  I had no idea such a thing existed.  I bet you Veronica didn't either.  All of a sudden she is getting comment after irate comment from the defenders of this language.

It's just a mommy blog.  She probably has around 200 steady readers or so (judging from the amount of comments she gets) 10x's my amount, but in the grand scheme of things, not all that many.  Yet a large group of people who don't normally read her blog found her.  

She meant no harm at all.  What if I do the same thing?  I suffer from foot in mouth disease and I may unintentionally offend someone sometime.  If they do make it to my blog I really don't want them to know much about me.  They can leave their silly comments and then leave me alone.

So maybe a little paranoia is a good thing.

Just not about DVT.

Public Service Announcement #8

Should you happen to be a stubborn dolt who refuses to floss, and have a mouth that glories in making plaque it may be a good idea to schedule regular dental cleanings.  As opposed to waiting twenty months since your last one.

Unless of course, your idea of a good time is 48 minutes of scaling, resulting in swollen gums and large amounts of blood loss.

In which case, carry on.  

Otherwise, I'd suggest dental visits every six months or so.

Not that I am speaking from experience or anything.

Nope, not me.

Spud Special

The other day I was watching Spud.  He was talking to his dad on the phone and pacing, just like he has seen me do, countless times.  His head was down and he was deep in conversation.

Looking at him in his size 4 shirt and new haircut holding the phone by himself made me realize how big he is getting. It made my heart a little sad.

Then I looked a little closer and realized his pants were on backwards.

Guess I don't need to worry about signing him up for college just yet.

A walk on the Wild Side

The other day we were getting a little cooped up so we headed out for our daily walk around the block.

It was really quite nice out, (-2 C) but starting to snow so I put on their snowsuits.  I just recently  noticed how those things really aren't good for mobility.  I don't think Sprout could have put his arms down by his side if his life depended on it.  It was like being out with a pair of Michelin men.

The good news is, Sprout has basically grown into his size 18 months snowsuit, so his hands can finally stick out of the sleeves.  This had caused him great stress all winter.  I think he thought they were gone for good each time.

Between getting boots, mitts, hats, snowpants and coats on and then walking at Sprout's pace, even just walking around the block can kill a lot of time.  Sprout is just two and his legs are pretty small (even for two) so he makes a snail look like Ben Johnson (without the whole steroid mess.) 

We found every puddle on our trip, each one was thoroughly splashed in, we talked to every single person we passed (and I use "we" loosely) and EVERY single school bus that went by was duly noted.

There are moments when being a mom, with all the stuff it entails, is so totally worth it.

This was one of them.

I Need Your Input!

So, I was chatting with my sister (momofthecrazies) and she was saying something that I had to get her to repeat.  I mean, we all know she is OCD.  But this, I believe this takes the cake!  The thing is, she doesn't think it's weird at all.  Sooo, we need your help.  Which one of us is normal?  Relatively speaking?

We are taking a poll on the issue.   Really it's the weekend, what else do you have to do?

Leave your comment on the following question.

Do you rinse all your pop cans and bottles before recycling them or do you just chuck the puppies out in a box as soon as they are done?

We are dying to know.

Seriously.   Our lives currently revolve around snot, incessant talking, poop and snow.  This is a great diversion.

Thank-you and have a great weekend.

The Irony is Killing Me

Last week we had our house re-painted in order to appeal to a broader market.  So, we switched from the tranquil resort feel of our light blue walls to brown and beige.  Yee haw.  

The first day that the painters were in we had a showing.  My house was in complete disarray with painters, drop-clothes and various shades of brown and blue on the walls.  

So, naturally, we got our first realistic offer.

Yep, after a MONTH of keeping my house in pristine show-home-like condition, we get an offer we can work with when our house looks like a construction zone.  I am still waiting to find the irony funny.

The purchasers decided that they wanted the painters to continue to the basement with the brown theme.  We told them, "Hey, if you'll buy our house at a reasonable price we'll paint it navy if that's what floats your boat."

Apparently they thought we were serious.

Our basement was a lovely shade of green.  Almost a neutral green.  It was light and airy but did lack that "wow" factor.  Upon thinking about it, the buyers also thought that the brown lacked the "it factor they were looking for in a basement.  So, they wanted to change it to something different.

BLUE.

I kid you not.  My basement is now a slightly darker blue than what was upstairs with three NAVY feature walls.  I so desperately want to show you but I cannot figure out how to make the camera talk to the Mac and with 13 days till we move out, figuring out technology ranks right behind making baklava on my list of things to do.

So, you'll have to take my word for it.   It looks like a blueberry exploded inside a cave.  It will take a couple of spotlights to brighten up my basement now.

Again, I am still waiting for the irony to be humorous.

To sum up.

Start with a house with blue walls upstairs, green basement. 

Clean house for month.  

No offers.

Decide to paint.

Three offers in one weekend.

Put painting on hold.

All offers fall through.

Painting is back on track.

Frantically prep house for painting.

Painting starts.

Realistic offer.

House sells.

House now has brown walls upstairs, blue down.

I'll say one thing about this month, it certainly wasn't boring.

Seriously in Need of Some Therapy

I don't know if I mentioned it before or not, but we have been selling our home.  This has led to the awakening of some part of my DNA that up to this point in my life has laid completely dormant.  To the point that I never dreamed it existed.

I grew up surrounded by type A OCD-type people.  I have already talked (at length) about my sister and her whole OCD thing but what you don't know is she really comes by it quite honestly.

Let's talk about my mom for a second.  She's pretty neat and organized too, she could start her own organizing blog if she could just figure out how to turn the darn computer on.  Anyway, she's about the only one that doesn't find my sisters need to count her kid's toys at night a little weird but that's because she did it too.  Mmm hmmm.  The woman uses the same mug every morning for breakfast and woe to the person that takes and uses her mug.  It'll throw her entire week out of whack. 

I won't share too much about my baby brother (because he is quite a bit bigger than me) but suffice it to say, he make the two of them look a little slovenly.

So, up to this point in my life, compared to my family I've been a bit of a little piggy.  I can live with clutter, in fact, we're friends.  I had even named the dust-bunnies under my bed.  This has never been much of an issue for me.

HOWEVER, this past month  with all the showings I have turned into the cleaning Nazi.  My poor kids. Whenever they pulled out a toy I'd be hovering, waiting for them to finish so I could screech "put it back, put it back."  I turned off the tap with my elbows so I wouldn't muss up the shine on the taps and polished my kitchen table on daily basis.

This is all fine and good when selling a house, unfortunately, I can't turn it off now.  Seriously.  We got home the other night from the painting exile and I could not sit down to watch TV until I swept my floor.  It was paining me to look at it. I would have vacuumed but I did not want to wake the boys but oh I wanted to!  It gets worse.

My parent's house is really very clean.  At all times.  However, they live in a small town with hard water so there is a bit (emphasis on a bit) of hard water build-up on the drain and drain-stoppper in their bathroom sink.  I had never noticed it before this weekend but now every time I looked at it, I wanted to whip out the CLR and clean it.    Seriously?  Why?  Is it bothering anyone?  Nope just me.

The clicker came when I was in the Wal-Mart bathroom the other day and had to fight off the urge to clean the water-spots off the taps.  I had already mopped up the water that someone else had left on the counter.     

While we all would agree that Wal-Mart always needs a bit of cleaning, maybe wanting to do it is a good sign one needs an intervention?   Not even my mom or siblings do that.  And that's saying something.

It's been a Marvehlous Monday

And I'm not even being sarcastic!

So what makes it so great?

Well, since you asked,

*My house is SOLD SOLD SOLD SOLD and the conditions are OFF OFF OFF OFF. Cue marching band and the geek doing cartwheels! Yes, I know, I should muster up at least some enthusiasm for this momentous event. (Yep, now the sarcasm is back). I am over the roof delighted.

* My blog makeover is complete and it looks wonderful. This was my Christmas present from Way Cooler. This makeover was done by Butterfly Kisses Blog Design. I cannot say enough good things about Butterfly Kisses. She did a great job and really all she had to go with was that I didn't want it to looks too busy and my favorite colours are red and blue. Poor lady! Working with me and 38 weeks pregnant? That's a lot to take!

*After months of searching I have found the perfect straw sippy cup. (It really takes so very little to move me. It's quite sad.) It actually does not leak, as opposed to claiming it doesn't and then dripping all over my carpet, and the part the child sucks on is basically the same as a regular sippy cup as instead of the silicon straws that my kids can rip apart with their teeth in the time it takes me to shell out the money for a new one. (Oh my goodness, that is really one of the longest sentences ever. Gotta love a run-on.)

*If you live in Eastern Canada or Northern BC you may want to skip this one

It's Spring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The snow is melting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I did not need a coat outside today!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Daylight savings time. My kids now sleep until 7:00! I may no longer be able to park a SUV in the bags under my eyes. Might get down to hatchback size if this sleeping-in mania continues.

* I finally got my Blogher ads! I will now be able to send the boys to college! (Provided they are willing to wait till they are 80)

* I went to my parent's place for the painting of our house (much more on that later) and for two days in a row my dad sent me away to shop or what-not while he babysat my babes. AND he cooked dinner. Really, I could die tonight and my life would pretty much be complete. Not that I'm planning on kicking it so soon, but if I did, I'd be OK. Plus the whole heaven thing too. That'd be pretty cool.

And this is now enough about death.

So, my Monday (and previous few days) rocked.

You?

The Diva of Design

I am about to make a shocking revelation.

Wait for it.

I am not all that good at decorating.


I know. You are shocked. In total disbelief. I totally had you all fooled with my awesome mantle decorations but quite honestly I am not Martha Stewart.


I just don't get colours and textures and knick-knacks paddy wacks. When people start talking interior design, well, I sort of have the same reaction as when Way Cooler used to discuss his PhD seminars with me. I smile and nod a lot and hope I don't look too incredibly stupid.


When Antique Mommy started up Inspired Spaces I tried to read it, honestly I did. I LOVE Antique Mommy, but most of the stuff she is trying to fix, I don't really see anything wrong with. I finally gave up.


Even though I know I am not exactly a design diva, I did not realize how BAD it really was until last week.


Last week we had to pick new paint colours. So, we decided to leave the decision up to the experts. You know who is an expert next to me? Two middle aged men. Yep, my realtor and painter-dude picked the colours. They are normal beer-drinking, foot-ball watching dudes. They wouldn't even be considered metrosexual and there they were with a paint wheel babbling on about tones and shades.


On second thought maybe I do need to start reading Inspired Spaces. And every other blog out there like it. Because it's a little damaging to the femininity to have two dudes do your design.

Because Sometimes The Radio is Just Not Enough.

Hello again.

Miss me?

The past 4 days or so really have been "candid camera" kind of days. You know the type, where at any moment you expect someone to come up to you and say "smile you're on Candid Camera".

But nobody did.

I'll spare you all the boring minutia, but there is one story that I've been dying to tell you.

DYING.

Saturday the boys and I were out driving. I was stopped at a red light. It was quiet for longer than it takes for the boys to draw another breath, so naturally I figured something was wrong and looked in my rear-view mirror. They were just busy finger painting with their spit on my windows. Nothing unusual there. However, something else caught my eye and I looked a little more closely.

The guy in the car behind me was doing something a little strange. So, I looked again, and sure enough, my first guess was right. He was playing the harmonica.

UH HUH.

With both hands.

The light turned green and I made the left turn. So did the music man. Apparently he was at a really good part in his solo because he continued to play. With both hands. Who needs hand to turn your car when you have elbows?

I guess I should just be thankful it wasn't a tuba.