Good Things Come in Threes. So Does this Post. Which May Not Be a Good Thing

I am stealing yet another meme from Amy Beth because we've actually had summer this week and I am determined to enjoy every last snow-free minute of it. For those of you that think I kid, let me refer you here.

Three names I go by:

1. Mommy. Actually to be more accurate it is usually mommmmeeeee, mommmmeeee, mom, mom, hey mommmmeeee, excuse me, excuse me moooooooommmmmmmmeeeeeeee, all to be said within 3.7 seconds without taking a breath.

2. Pumpkin. 34 years old and this is still my dad's most common nickname for me. I wouldn't have it any other way.

3. Mrs. R. That's probably the thing I miss most about teaching. I liked being Mrs. R. It made me seem cool. Or at least as cool as a 23 year old in a jumper is going to get.

(What? You thought I was going to tell you my real name? Nice try.)

Three jobs I've had in my life

1. Receptionist at an airport. NOTE. If your house is less than four minutes from the airport, you are going to hear airplanes. Deal with it. PLEASE DO NOT CALL the nice student receptionist who is making seven dollars an hour and yell at her about it. She cannot change the flightpath for you, she can't even change her screensaver without permission.

2. Teacher. No, I do not plan on doing that ever again thankyouverymuch.

3. Accounts Receivable Clerk. Yes, it is as boring as it sounds.

Three places I've lived

1. Student housing at SWBTS. As part of our lease we were not allowed portable dishwashers, R rated movies and alcohol. But at $ 340/ month for a two bedroom furnished suite I would have walked backwards around campus singing showtunes while balancing a cat on my head if they asked.

2. A basement suite that was so small we couldn't fit a table and we had to walk through the kitchen to get to the bathroom but our landlords were amazing so we DID NOT CARE.

3. A 35 year old Nelson Package home. It let out more heat than it kept in and I think the previous owners were attempting to win the world's worst sponge painting superbowl. It was our very first house and the place we brought Spud home to so as far as I'm concerned, it was perfect.

Three favorite drinks

1. Sweet Tea

2. Chai Tea Lattes

3. London Fog

So, basically I like tea with LOTS of sugar.

Three of my favorite foods (it is killing me to only pick three.)

1. Steak

2. Cashew Chicken in Yellow Bean Sauce

3. Shrimp

Three things I'm decent at

1. Writing

2. Momming.

3. Baking

Three things I'm addicted to

1. You're reading it

2. Star Trek Voyager (it's a sickness really)

3. Dark Chocolate

That's it, He Can't Go

Spud starts school next Tuesday. I DID NOT think I woud be as emotional about this as I am. I thought it wouldl just be a celebration ofo the big boy he's become. But this past week I've turned into a weepy mess whenever I think about that baby being gone every day.

Then the following conversation occured today after a big tickle fest.

HG: I love you buddy. I'm sure gonna miss you when you go to school.

Spud: Oh, don't worry mommy, I will always come back to you.

I may stop crying sometime in October.

Beach Day

We have finally had some summery weather. My deepest apologies to all of you who have been suffering through the heat wave of 09, but last Friday we were in jackets and long pants for a 6:00 walk and at one point the boys asked for mittens. Which was actually appropriate. It was 7 degrees and windy.
(For those of you who just hit the floor in shock, I'm Canadian, that's Celsius, it was 45 F).

This past Friday however it was 30C (86F) and I almost wept for the sheer joy of feeling the sun on my skin.

But instead of weeping I hit the beach.

Now, I live in Southern Alberta, and so beach is rather loosely defined. There is a lake. It is named for the filthy, disease ridden white and grey water birds that populate it's shore. It's a perfect lake for smaller children as the shore is very very shallow and stretches on forever. It's like a gigantic wading pool only with disease ridden birds minnows.

There is sand. Or what passes for sand in Alberta. Once it got wet it very very closely resembled mud, but as long as it was dry my kids happily threw it at one another dug in it.

And then there was family. My sister and I actually live in the same province for the first time in 11 years. The lake is midway. We met. To see cousins running, playing, teasing and laughing, well I can almost ignore the rodents with wings. I'm too busy enjoying the happy chaos.

There's just something about family. We had a cousin come too. His kids have never met mine and yet, they played together as if they did it every day. We all chatted as if there hadn't been six years and hundreds of kilometres between our last meeting.

It was warm. It was busy. It was noisy. It was messy. It was laughter. It was a day at the beach. It was perfect.

The Darndest Things

Sprout is three. And by three I mean THREE. Whoever coined the phrase terrible twos just hadn't met three yet. Two was a walk in the park. A mere glimpse into the future where I would be continually baffled by someone less than 33 inches tall.

Let me give you a few examples.

A few months back he had done something wrong at the table. I was correcting this behaviour and apparently I was getting a little long-winded. So, what's a boy to do? He put his arms on the table, put his head down, closed his eyes and started to snore.

He recently bit his brother again. (And that's a whole different blog post, which I will title "how the Geek loses her mind".) Anyway, he had been spanked and was given an extended time of reflection in his room without any toys. Ten minutes later he was still crying and so I went to visit him once more. I asked what was wrong and he told me that he was upset because I didn't say that I was sorry for spanking him. Yeah babe. I'll get right on that. Right after I grow another two inches.

Not that long ago I asked him to do something. Instead of obeying, he started to talk like this "chi, ga, ling, nono, taka" I asked him what he was doing. His reply? "Me no speak English"

And just today he pulled the hair of a friend without any provocation. When asked why, he replied that he did it because he was thirsty and if I gave him some water he would drink the badness away.

I'd like to drink the badness away too. But I still have six months of three left. And there's no drink strong enough to change that.

It's a good thing he is cute. Most days I don't know whether to laugh or cry. So I laugh. A lot. Just not when he's looking because really, I do not want to encourage any more "three" than I already have.

Transportation Tips

Have you ever had to transport a lawn-mower in a mini-van? Well, if you ever do, let me remind you of a couple of things. They are really heavy. And on wheels. Whatever you do, DO NOT have the handle facing the back window.

Trust me.

Oh yes ma'am.

Mooovies

You need to know two things about Spud.

1. He is the most literal child on the planet.

2. He is utterly and completely addicted to movies. TV. Commercials. You name it. If it flickers, he must watch it. Because I am an evil mom I greatly limit his TV intake. This just about kills him. If he isn't watching a movie he is talking about them. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AND AGAIN. He could be at Disneyland and would ask to go watch some TV. I SO WISH I WAS KIDDING.

Anyway, Kelly recently talked about kids and jokes. I thought this might be fun for Spud now that he is five so I looked up a bunch online and proceeded to try this out. I had to look some up because most of the ones I know are from my dad and are maybe not totally appropriate for the pre-school set. If you catch my drift.

The following is our first joke conversation.

HG: Hey Spud. I've got a joke for you. What does a cow watch?

Spud: The grass? Other cows? The sky?

HG: No buddy. They watch Mooovies.

Spud: What kind of movies do they watch?

HG: Oh buddy, it's a joke. MOOO-vies.

Spud: I like movies. My favorite is Larryboy and the Bad Apple. Hey can we watch a movie now? I've been obeying. Please?

HG: No buddy we are doing jokes. Remember, mooovies?

Spud: I love movies. Can I watch Larryboy? It's my favorite. He flies in a rocket and catches the bad apple. Can we watch one now?

HG: What about the jokes?

Spud: Larryboy likes jokes.

And then my head exploded.

A sure sign I Blog Too Much

The other night I had a cold. It was a pretty minor thing, but it was coupled with a low-grade fever and I felt a bit ache-y so I decided to take a sleeping pill and go to bed early.

So far so good. Except for one thing. I am a dreamer. I cannot remember more than 15 times in the last couple of years that I have woken up and I was not in the middle of some whacked out dream.

I dream about anything and EVERYTHING. I have been part of an organization to corrupt the world, and other times I have been the world's lone saviour. Complete with automatic weapons and everything.

I also die a lot.

But nothing compares to the other night.

I read the blog Welcome to My Brain. It is a funny, thought provoking well-written journal of a family who have just bought a trailer park so they can do ministry together as a family.

Or so they say. Turns out, they actually had turned it into a survival obstacle course, complete with water torture, dead ends, and Christine yelling at the participants repeatedly. Nice little gems that involve the word loser, quitter, hopeless and the like.

It also turned out to be one of those dreams that I could wake up from, and then go back into. I'd wake up, get myself calmed down, finally fall asleep again, and there would be Christine, leering at me. "You thought you outsmarted me eh?" (She's tricked us all into thinking she's a Southern sweetie, when in fact, she's a Canadian evil genius).

I'm thinking that sleeping pills, cold medicine and an over-active imagination are not a good combination.

The Evolution of a Song

Subtitled: Why my sister bans VBS music.

My sister's kids recently went to VBS. One of the songs that they learned was Get Down.

It's a rather innocuous little number. The lyrics are as follows.

I get down, He lifts me up.

Repeat over and over again. And again. Until you want to stab your eye out with something blunt. Like a theology textbook.

The verses are a little more substantial, (thank heavens) but they aren't really the point of this post.

My sister's younger daughter is a bit of a live-wire. She likes to shake things up whenever she can. She and Sprout can never be left along together because they will quickly flesh out their plan for world domination. So, naturally she changed the lyrics to the chorus so they were a little catchier.

I get up, He knocks me down.

These lyrics concerned my other niece a little bit. She felt like the Almighty was being misrepresented. However, she didn't really want to lose the unique feeling that her sister was able to create. So she came up with this jazzy little number.

I get down, He knocks me up.

Seeing as how she is not raising the Virgin Mary, my sister has now banned all versions of that song from her home.

Forever.

More Confessions

It's been said that confession is good for the soul. It's also good for a brain-dead blogger with no good new material. So, here are some more little secrets that no one knows. Let's keep this just between you and me and some guy in Australia named Ed.

* I do not follow my blog stats. At all. If I want to feel bad all I have to do is try and zip up the jeans I wore last year. I don't need to add to that by discovering that actually only 4 people read this blog. Right now I can totally fantasize that it's read by one thousand people every day, they are all just really bad at commenting.

* I am a closet charismatic. Before all you reformed types start hyperventilating, let me clarify. I am a big fan of enthusiastic music at church. I like to raise my hands, sip off my shoes and jump a little. Unfortunately I attend a rather staid church where one can raise their hands, but all the rest of us know where the hand-raisers sit and we keep an eye on them. So, I stay firmly in the closet, except for once a year when I sneak off to a local Pentecostal church so I can blend right in. However, I do make careful note of all the exits, so if someone starts talking in tongues or the ministry of prophesy starts I can be out of there faster than one can say cessationist. (I am also a big fan of interpretive dance, but let's not tell anyone. They may not understand.)

* I don't listen to popular music. At all. Which is sorta evidenced by the fact that I referred to it as popular music. I don't know U2 from the Black Eyed Peas.

This is not out of any sort of moral conviction, it's because of the hearing impairment. I cannot make out the lyrics of most music, so for all I know I could be listening to a musical rendition of great-aunt Ethel's recipe for deep fried squirrel.

* At fast food restaurants my kids choose the fruit option over fries in their kids meal pretty much every single time. Instead of making me proud, I am a little concerned that I am raising a couple of weirdos. What kind of a freak chooses apple slices over McDonald's fries? I know for certain they did not get this whole nutrition bent from me.

* The older I get, the less I like ice-cream.

* I only iron about twice a year. I grab clothes from the dryer when they are hot and get them on a hanger immediately. I buy wrinkle resistant clothes and if it needs ironing, the chances are good I may never wear it again.

* I've never made a pie-crust.

So, what about you? Got anything to get off of your chest?

This Would be Why I Nicknamed Him Spud

About halfway through our vacation I was chatting with Spud about all the fun we'd had so far. By that point we'd been to a wading pool and two splashpads, they'd swum at their cousin's pool, they'd had ice-cream every second day, and been to the Vancouver Aquarium.

Not to mention that their bedtime was incredibly fluid, they'd driven through the Rocky Mountains while eating carmel popcorn, and they'd been berry-picking and to the ocean, both for the first time on the same day.

It was basically a never-ending adventure. So, I asked Spud what his favorite part of the trip was thus far.

His answer? "Watching movies at grandma's."

My son, the five year old couch potato.

I'm Back (and You Can Leave a Comment. Really. That'd Be Super.)

So, miss me?

(Crickets Chirping.)

We had a super vacation. We drove all the way to the West Coast to visit some family, and then spent a few days in the Okanagan with some friends and then headed back home. Being a former teacher I am always on the look-out for educational opportunities, even on holidays. So, I thought I'd share with you some of the lessons I learned this holiday.

* The cute binoculars from the dollar store are not really all that great for seeing things, but super fun for a three year old to take apart. Over and over again.

*Three year olds are only good at taking apart binoculars. Not putting them back together. That is a mommy job. Repeatedly.

*It is a bit tricky to pack two weeks of stuff into a Civic but it can be done.

*The air conditioner on said Civic is broken. I learned this bit of trivia about three hours into our vacation. Way Cooler forgot to share this bit of info when we were deciding what vehicle to take. The spacious van or the itty-bitty Civic.

*Most of the interior of BC was experiencing a major heat wave. Record breaking even.

*I have more self-control than I realized. Way Cooler is still living.

* All the neat colouring activities and games I had planned for the car ride were a bit useless when all the windows are open and the car is going 100 K/hr.

* My children will listen to the same book on CD of Frog and Toad are Still Friends for three hours straight. Woe to the fool who suggests a different CD.

* Whoever invented the splash pad was a freaking genius. My kids went to three different ones on their holiday and each time it was like we had given them a puppy and a free trip to Disney.

* They are no longer collecting toll on the Coquihalla highway. Which was basically Disney for the two tightwads in the front seat.

* Some McDonald's restaurants have one cent ice cream cones. They are smaller than an infant's fist, but my kids thought they were the cat's meow.

*When one's car has no air-conditioning and the windows are open one's hair routine will consist of the following. Shower with huge gobs of conditioner. Pull out knots from hair for fifteen minutes. Comb hair straight back. Put in headband. Airdry and go. Glamour it was not.

* I can go two weeks and only read blogs once and still live. Shocking. I didn't even have withdrawal much.

* Taking my kids to the ocean for the first time and crab hunting was probably one of the funnest* things I have ever done in my life. Their joy knew no bounds. We had to pry them away from the ocean with a crowbar.

*Taking a vacation with children is very fun. Relaxing, no. But over the top fun.

* I am aware that funnest isn't a word. It should be. So, since it is my blog, I will use it:).