Planks. My Worst Nightmare.

Yesterday's Body Sculpt class at the YMCA was brutal with a capital B (it would probably have had more affect had I actually typed a capital B).  Out of all the times I've taken a class at the Y, this one has to stand out as the hardest to date.  I was feeling quite good about myself when I finished it but today I'm in exorborant amounts of pain.  I think if I paid myself a buck for every time I moved today and subconsciously said "ouch" I could take my entire family for dinner.  At a really decent restaurant.

When I finished putting my equipment away after the class I noticed Gage was waiting for me outside the gym.  As we were walking out of the building I was complaining how tough that workout was.  At which point he mockingly replied, 'What's the matter, you can't handle your 2 1/2 lbs weights and your yoga mat?", in a baby voice.  (I'll have you note, I used 8 lbs weights and 5 lbs weights, NOT 2 1/2 lbs weights.)  Today when I got home from work and mentioned to him how much my body was hurting he again made fun of my female class.  I told him I was going to make him take just one class with me so he could understand how tough they actually are and his reply?  Wait for it...


"I need to gain muscle, not a vagina." 

No laughing, no smile, just pure fact. I've raised myself a full-fledged dick.  And, if I could actually raise my leg without it hurting so much, I'd kick him right in the ass.

Twelve Days

A year ago yesterday, mine and my family's worlds began to crumble from within.  Today I noticed on my aunts' and uncle's Facebook pages, tributes to my dad.  Turns out it's National Brother's week (though I think there seems to be a National week or day about something all the time).  I assume this 'week' falls on the same week every year.  So that being said I find it strangely comforting that my dad's siblings came together for him on National Brother's Week this time last year when he needed them the most. 

I also find myself melancholy and quick to emotions as of late.  I find myself disinterested in things.  I find myself putting a fake smile on my face.  I know we're coming up on the one year anniversary and I really still can't wrap my head around it.  When I have spare moments I find myself looking back on this time last year and I'm pretty sure that will continue until the actual anniversary.  At the time, I was full of an underlying fear (sometimes ingorance is bliss) but yet I still had a false hope at the same time.  I was overwhelmed with the outpouring of support from my family and friends.  I felt useless because I couldn't help my dad.  I feared what he was feeling and going through and I'm still caught up on that.  I felt guilt for not being able to spend every moment I had with him.  I felt guilty for having to go to work and take my kids to their soccer games and be at home fixing dinner when I could have and should have been at the hospital, absorbing every moment I could with him, not knowing those times were quickly diminishing.

So almost a year has passed...I have many good days and some bad days.  I've had occurances where I wonder if (and hope) he's sending me signs that he's out there around us.  I have had dreams, both good and bad about him.  Often his memory pops into my head and I smile and then I miss him even more.  We've mourned him and we've celebrated him.  We made it through the 'special days', some harder than others.   I have a feeling I'm just not really going to be able to shake the underlying sadness these next 12 days will bring me, but I'll do my best to not let it envelope me. 

Still miss you like it was yesterday dad and long to hear your voice.  Love you to the moon and back.

A Letter to a Young Mother

Dear Young Mom:

First, please have the courtesy to come into my place of work and ask us if it is permissable to park in our private lot while you run your errands at the Police Station. 

Second, please change your toddler's shitty diaper in the privacy of your vehicle so those of us with an office window facing that parking space don't have to see you reef them up the crack of his ass to wipe the shit off it. 

Third, please refrain from then throwing said shitty underpants onto our parking lot for us to clean up. 

Those are my three pieces of advice to you dear, young, mom.  But now I'd like to thank you.  First for leaving your windows down so I had the opportunity to leave my office on this beautiful, sunny day and wander out into the parking lot, retrieve said underpants (I am a mom and I'm a funeral director - shitty pants won't deter me) and toss them through your back seat window where they were given a new resting place.  Right in the middle of your son's car seat. 

And my second thank you is for the sheer feeling of satisfaction I got from that experience as well as the second wave of pride I felt watching your face scour the parking lot looking for the missing underwear and then surprisingly finding them right in the very spot you were intending to plant your son's ass. 

Now, knowing someone watched your behaviour the entire time and 'one upped' you, you must be so proud.  I'm frightened for our youth when you are a role model out there.  Next time, don't be douche.

Sincerely,
Me.

Look What I Made

Whoa, it just dawned on me that I was crafty way back in December before I discovered Pinterest!  I had the brilliant idea to reproduce something I had seen in a catalogue that was selling for $40.00.  First I thought, no way would I spend 40 bones on that but then I immediately thought, damn, Eric and I combined can make that no problem!  Foreshadowing?  I think so!

So I decided to make Eric's nephew (or rather his parents) an art display board for all the future masterpieces Felix will be making.  Off the top of my head I think the whole thing cost us $18-20.  I think that's mainly because we just went and bought the pre-cut wood board and then the actual paperclips cost almost $10.00 because I couldn't just get plain silver ones.    I'm pretty sure if I'd given it more thought and hadn't left it until the last minute we could have used reclaimed wood or re-used a previous sign and then it would have been maybe 10 bucks to create. 

Instead of painting it like the original piece, we chose to wood burn the phrase "Look What I Made".  Eric is into that and since we were both contributing we felt that was more appropriate but you could use a stencil or hand paint the same thing.  We then applied a stain over it and attached the clips at the bottom. 

No clue if Eric's brother and sister in law like it or not, or if they've put it up and are using it, but I thought it was a pretty good first time attempt at a craft.  I look at it now  and I can think of a million other things I could have done or added to it, but like I said, it was my first attempt at a craft in uhm, ever.  Therefore,  I'm going to cut myself some slack.  I can only go up from here right?

Two for Tea?

You might already be getting tired of reading about my crafting projects, but too bad.  So far I haven't lost interest in doing them.  Which is shocking because I tend to lose interest in things as quickly as I get interest in them.  Maybe this will be my final curtain call.  Though with garage sale season starting up soon, I highly doubt that.  And I'm pretty sure I already have a grasp on what my next project is going to be.  I merely got my inspiration from Pinterest, not the actual idea.  Whoa me!  I'm gaining insight here.  But back to the project at hand....

This time around, I made two teacup bird feeders, and assisted with two that Roan painted.  I've decided to keep the red/white/black one for my own front garden.  I know right?  How utterly selfish of me!  And I'm paying forward the blue/white/silver one to my sister in law, Anita to take up residence in her garden.   Roan already has the recipients in mind for his two feeders as well.  So today we shall venture out and pick up some bird seed so we can do up little baggies to accompany our gifts. 

We started with some pressure treated fence spindles (as they were cheaper than stair spindles) and thrift store teacups and matching saucers.  I have a feeling this project will be much cheaper come garage sale time, but for now each feeder cost me $5.00.  I can assure you no kitty was painted or glued in the making of this project.  He was merely there to supervise.

Having now finished this project I think I might choose a tapered spindle so it's easier to insert into the ground.  These ones are going to facilitate us actually digging a hole for them rather than just being able to spike them into the ground.  I saw another sample of one with copper piping.  That would be cool too as it would patina over time, whereas these ones are just likely to rot over time.  Oi vell, I digress.

I painted the posts with a base coat and then add some accent colours.  I thought about doing little stencils all over it, but frankly I'm not that crafty yet and I wasn't inclined to go out and buy stencils to fulfill this desire.  So simple is as simple does.  I then buffed the surfaces on the teacups and saucers that were going to be in contact with the glue itself and allowed them to cure over night.  Once my painted spindles and dried and the glue had cured I affixed the teacups to the top of the spindles and then allowed them to fix over night as well.  The majority of the time was spent waiting for glue to dry.  It's about as exciting as watching paint dry too.  Take my word for it.  Thank god, for Pinterest and Netflix to keep me occupied during this lull. 

Voila!  The finished project.  Easy peasy!

Clueless Brainiac

Today, Roan got 'in trouble' or rather a stern talking to about not thinking of the consequences of his actions and how his not thinking about things ruins MY stuff.  I tried to explain to him about common sense and how it's important for him to learn what common sense is.  His exasperated response to me through his tears, while trying to get me to appreciate that he just 'didn't know', was, "Jeez mom!  I'm not Stephen Hawkings."  My anger dissipated at this point and the conversation was over.    I had to walk away to hide my smile. 

I figure if he's smart enough to throw that sentence out at me, then he should be able to figure out what actions will piss me off.

Stay Gold Pony-boy

Today after a spontaneous "encounter" with an old friend, he posted this on his Facebook page: (I know, I get it, Facebook is the devil, but in some cases without it, things would never be repaired or mended.  And that is a true statement, like it or lump it.)

"Tonight I was reminded that true friends will always still be there when the dust settles.  Things may never be the way they once were, but it's comforting to know some people still value friendship through thick and thin.  You know who you are.  Thanks for helping restore a little faith."

I know who I am.

I Love Me a Great Idea!

I came across a seemingly swell idea on Pinterest a couple of weeks ago and today while I was grocery shopping I thought about it and purchased the supplies I'd need to attempt this project. 

I have made an everlasting dryer sheet.  I took a good 5 minutes and sniffed all the fabric softners in the aisle, though I don't know why because I just settled on the Gain fabric softener anyway.  And that doesn't surprise me because I love, love, love the smell of original Gain.   Anywho, off track... I then poured almost the whole bottle into a large bowl and soaked an old terrycloth hand towel in it.  Once it was completely penetrated I wrung it out and hung it outside on my railing to allow it to thoroughly dry.  Then, my dear readers and friends, I THREW it in the drier.  Yup, just like that!  Tossed that puppy in with my wet clothes.  I showed it, didn't I?  I know, rather daring on my behalf.

So according to the website, the softener sheet should be good for at least 40 loads of laundry.  Which is so crazy helpful in stretching out softener use and lessening waste (I figure Eric will like that part).  I ended up taking all the fabric softener out of the bowl and pouring it back into the container and voila, almost the entire container is full.  This is going to save me muchos moolah.  I'll be able to repeat this craft every two laundry soap purchases (average), and I won't have to buy dryer sheets anymore. 

So far, my hands smell fantastic, my laundry room smells lovely and my clothes are static free and Gain scented!  Win-win-win!  The whole thing cost me an ugly hand towel that I no longer used but cost me nothing and a $5.00 bottle of fabric softner and if this all proves to be true, that five bucks is going to last me the rest of the god forsaken year!

Crafting Queen

So lately I've found a new addiction.  Thankfully this addiction won't kill me.  I'm addicted to Pinterest, a new social community of sorts.  There are tons of ideas for household stuff you can make, brilliant things I never would have had the imagination to think of on my own.  But with a little insight and a picture I'm totally stoked to be crafty!  A lot of the stuff they suggest is made from old things that most would think is garbage.  Up until recently this girl would have been included in that statement.  Now I find myself slowing down at curbsides and stalking through someone's garbage (then sending Gage out to retrieve it).

The first project I decided to tackle was a doggy bed made out of a hexigonal 1970/80's side table.  We all recognize the style of table I'm speaking of.  It has a door on the front and it's got wood laminate all over it.  Overall, ugly.   So I found this sweet score in a pile of garbage after dropping Gage off at school.

I took the door off, the top off and I peeled off all the fake wood laminate and primed this out-dated puppy (no pun intended).  Then I gave it a couple good coats of semi-gloss white paint and taped out and painted some lime green stripes (to match Margie's living room).  Then once I got the colour on, I added foam letters spelling out Elliott's (the dog) name down the side and then painted over them.  I also added some dog prints in white along the top green stripe.  Then I hit up Fabricland and found some navy blue polk-a-dot flannel and used the top piece of the original table to cut out the pattern for the actual dog bed.  I borrowed my mom's sewing machine and stitched the bed and tore apart an old throw pillow for stuffing.  Then I finished it off with a big round white button in the centre of the bed.  

Roan said it looked like I bought the dog bed, so that must be a good thing right?  I'm pretty impressed with how my first craft turned out and I'm really looking forward to making something else.  Roan wants to keep our eyes open for other hexigon side tables so we can make one for our kitties since they seemed to like it.  Roan found Shakespeare laying in it before we delivered it to Margaret and Elliott. 


So it seemed Margaret liked the bed, but Elliott was a little wound up from Roan to actually test it out.  I hope he takes a liking to it.  He would look super cute in it.  So all in all, I had the white paint from my bedroom baseboards, the green paint from the walls in Gage's bedroom, I made the paw stencil our of hardboard in my recycle bin, I used the stuffing out of an old pillow for the bed but I bought the foam letters, the white button and the material for the bed.  All in all this project cost me 20 bucks and I have leftover letters for another project and leftover flannel material that I'll find a use for later.  I'm pleased with the end result.  Check it out!  What do you think??

Finished doggie bed!!

 

Confused Longings

I'm not one to think about the consequences of growing older too often.  Sure I'm consciously aware that I'm 37, but I don't feel like I'm 37.  And from what those around me tell me, I'm holding my age pretty well.  That being said, the other day one of Gage's friends told me his mom was having to go into the hospital for a hysterectomy (actually he said a di-sectomy, but after a few probing questions, and the answer of "his mom having her girly parts removed", I came to the conclusion that he meant hysterectomy) and it got me thinking on my morning commute into work. 

I'm kind of sad that my breeding years are coming to a close.  Well, my 'safe' breeding years...  Sure, sure I got my tubes tied about 4 years ago so how can I even remotely be sad about this when I made the decision to lower my chances of ever giving birth again by surgically altering myself?  I guess, always in the back of my head, was the option to reverse the procedure if I ever wanted to.  I knew I never would but the option was there!  But now that I'm surgically altered and  rounding up on 40 the odds of getting pregnant and having my own little baby again are even more against me.  And I guess when the future of not having any more babies no longers lies with just me, well I guess I'm a little melancholy about the whole thing.  Like the option is slipping through my fingers day by day. 

I'm never again going to have my own baby who curls up in the nape of my neck just between my chin and shoulder blade.  Never again will a crying baby immediately settle in at the mere sound of my voice or my smell.  Not likely will another baby turn to me for comfort when they are hurting or scared.  Never again will the soothing sound of my hushes calm an infant.  I look forward to being a grandma (and I hope it's not for a while yet) but I have a feeling it just isn't going to be the same. A baby will always look to his mama before he turns to his grandma.  And fingers are crossed so hard they are a permanently white knuckled that the mother of my grandchildren isn't a first time mom freak who won't let the kid out of her sight or coddles the baby all the time and ends up creating a monster who will go to no one else and lord willing, she loves me and trusts me whole hearted with her child.  And please, please, please if all of the above applies to the mother of my future grandchildren, I hope my son has the balls to stand up to her and for the best interests of his child and thus insists on my being actively involved in baby's life. 

So for now, I'll just be sad and wait with hopefulness.

A Slice of Apple Pie.

Flights are booked.  Fourth visit and looking so forward to it.  I'm not sure there is a city I love to visit more than New York City.  This time around Dawn and I are taking our mom and Gage with us.  I'm pretty stoked to experience NYC with one of my kids.  I know when Roan's older and actually cares I'll have no problem bringing him back.  And it turns out Jodi and Margie will be there the exact same weekend as us too!  Small world.  For reals.  Super stoked!

Whoa Mona Lisa, I'd Pay To See Your Frown.

The other day Gage had an art project where he had to do a replica drawing of a famous painting.  When I asked him what painting he had chosen to copy he told me, with an air of confidence, that he planned to re-produce the Mona Lisa. 

Being the truly supportive mother that I am, I questioned his decision and suggested maybe he copy a Jackson Pollack.  Ye of little faith I turned out to be.  I could actually tell it was the Mona Lisa.  Which impressed me more than a little I might add.

He's gonna grow up to make millions I tell you, MILLIONS!  I can smell the moolah already. 

Obesity Epidemic? I Don't Know Why!

Are you kidding me?  Who thinks that it's a good idea to make this stuff?  And frankly where do people find this? 

My sister apparently got 4 of these things over the Christmas holidays.  I think she bought one and had three given to her as a gift.  Though maybe she meant she had four individual peanut butter cups.  Who knows, either way it's gross. 

I'm not so sure it was a great idea on Eric's part to split it with Roan and to challenge each other to actually finish their half, about thirty minutes before dinner.  But it was mildly entertaining to watch them try to eat it and each of them tap out early.  Eric says it's because I said he smelled yucky, but I think he just couldn't handle the half pound of power.  Roan pretended he was concerned about being able to finish his dinner.  Ya right! 

I think Eric's planning on saving the second one for his buddy Shawn.  Aside from ketchup, turns out peanut butter is his favourite thing.  And it was just his birthday... But if Shawn doesn't show his face here soon, I suspect it will succumb to Eric's cravings after smoking a big, fat blunt. 

With Appreciation

A huge, gigantic, heart-warming, genuine thanks to one of my favourite people.  First for all of her advice -  even when I didn't want to hear it.  She was 100% right.  Second, for bailing me out.  Third, for coming to my rescue when it felt like I was terrorizing and torturing my kitty in hopes of saving her life.  Fourth, for reassuring me, that Nika's most recent, additional illness was not as a result of anything I had done. And fifth, for the beautiful flowers letting me know she's a true friend who wholey understands the pain and anguish I was going through this past weekend. 

Thank you Lesley.  With all my heart.  I love you, and appreciate you. 

The Final Hours

For the majority of Kanika's final hours I had the house to myself.  I am actually grateful for the alone time I got to spend with her.  These are the final pictures I took before we said our final good bye. 

We've brought her home, wrapped in her orange blanket and buried her in a casket in our back yard with my other beloved kitty, Tabby, who passed away in the summer of '97.  I'd been hanging on to her cremated remains all this time not sure what to do with them.  I thought it was appropriate to put her remains in with Nika and bury them both here at my home. 

Nika's passing is still so surreal to me.  I think Oliver has finally figured out she's not coming back.  He's been acting funny and (I think) crying strange mews while wandering aimlessly.  Poor little guy. 

Kanika

December 20, 2004 - March 3, 2012



I will never forget you.  You were my favourite and I hope you know that.  I hope you didn't suffer and that your last days with me were comforting to you, as they were comforting to me.  Thank you for picking me as your 'person' and for making me so happy for seven years.  I will miss all of your Nika-isms.  You were an amazing soul.  I love you so much, and I'm so sorry. 

I hope the two of you find one another and keep each other company.  Godspeed Nika, right into waiting arms.  Take care of each other.

In the Quiet Moments...

I'm laying in my bed with my computer sitting in my lap.  I should be getting dinner ready or going to the gym like I had planned.  Instead I'm doing everything in my power not to move because beside me lays my most favourite kitty in the whole world who happens to be gravely ill.  She is my kindred kitty and to say I'm devastated would be an understatement. 

I'm choosing to stay here because I'm not sure how much time I have left with her and for right now, in this moment, it's just me and her.  It is very clear that she is comforted with me here beside her.  (She's trying her hardest to purr for me.) And I am comforted with her beside me.

I have always had cats in my life (thank you mom and dad) and for the majority of it I've always wanted a Siamese.  Seven years ago I brought one into my heart, my home and my life.  Kanika "Nika" joined me and the boys in the spring of 2005 after being born on my dad's birthday the previous December 20th.  She was my baby.  She was sweet and chatty and tiny and all together awesome.  Everything I had hoped for in a Siamese, I got.  She has adapted well to all the changes that have come her way in her 7 years.

Two days ago I noticed she wasn't her usual self and had lost what little weight she had.  The poor thing was just skin and bones.  We took her to the vet yesterday and they immediately put her on IV fluids as she was extremely dehydrated and ran a gamut of tests on her blood.   My Nika-bear has liver failure.  And barring doing a biopsy at an expense I just can't afford, we are taking a chance that the vet's guess is correct.  That out of the three options of liver failure she has the one that's treatable.  Fatty Liver Disease.  So for now, I've brought her home to administer drugs, and force feed her in hopes that she'll start to bounce back.  We will know within a weeks time if we guessed right or not.  She'll either start to perk up or continue to go down hill.  The silver lining if there must be one is that this type of disease doesn't cause them any pain.  The most she'll feel is bleh.  Similar to how we feel when we have the flu.  For that I'm extremely grateful.

So for now I'll sit quietly here beside her and relish in the knowledge that she picked me as her person in life and she still picks me as her person in sickness.  When I went to pick her up at the vet's today as soon as I spoke to her she immediately came over to me and laid her head in my hands.  She has found her way up on to my bed to lay beside me and keeps looking at me and purring.  She loves me and I love her.  It's seems so ridiculous to feel this way over a cat and I can't really wrap my head around how much this is hurting me and the anxiety and pressure I feel for her to get better.  I'm just not ready to lose her too.  So I'm gonna go and keep petting my cat.  I'm gonna do everything a human can do to reassure a cat that she is safe and loved.