Wang Chung

So it's the thick of winter. Body hair is at an all time high. Aside from that, life continues as usual. Just getting ready to be a seat filler at the Oscars. I'll probably shave my legs for that.
Yesterday morning I went to drop Dex off at his daycare. As I've mentioned in previous blogs, he goes to a home daycare where he's cared for by a lovely lady named Shakira.
Anyhow, the house is right across from the Donlands Subway station and right behind another daycare but like a real daycare, not a cheapo home daycare. Anyhow, there's an alleyway between the real daycare and Shakira's house. I'm just painting the picture of what's to come.
So I get out of the car, get Dex out of his seat and turn around to see a man, pee'ing on the side of the wall of the real daycare. I can see his man junk hanging out all over the place and so can anyone else who might be walking to the subway or walking their kids into the daycare.
Now I thought in 2012 I should change a few things about myself. Some call them resolutions, as though there are things that you want to change. To me, they're just improvements on what is already adequate. One of these was to maybe keep my mouth shut more, when I see weirdos doing weird things.
It was a bit of a grey area in this situation because he didn't seem like he was super weird of homeless or anything out of the ordinary. He was wearing a Patriots jacket, clean jeans and shoes that weren't falling apart. Maybe he was on the crazy cusp but how am I supposed to know that? Anyhow, I would like to say that I thought for a second not to say something, but I didn't. With child in tow I yell, very loudly, "Excuse me? Are you peeing on the side of a daycare?" He turns to look at me. Turns out he was on the crazy cusp, or at least his face was. He responds with an incoherent grunt. I start getting louder. "You know, that's a daycare and it's 8:30 in the morning and no one wants to see your wang ok?"
Now he's looking straight at me and he makes one of those moves people make when they want to fight. You know when they kind of throw their shoulders back and move their head forward?
Normally this would have scared me. It should have scared the shit out of me but I had one of those crazy adrenaline moments where, if this loser who can't hold his pee for 5 seconds, were to try to come at me, I would have thrown down. Why? Because I had my son in my hands and I think I experienced that weird thing where women can lift cars if their kid is under it. I saw it once on Oprah. Back when Oprah was still smutty.
What you should know is that, under normal circumstances, this kind of threat would have been enough to either make me faint, or at the very least just take off. I hate physical fighting. I will almost never have your back. Ever. One time my friend in highschool got in a girl fight at The Sound Of Music Festival at Spencer Smith Park and I ran away to tell a cop. I'm good at starting the fights, just never really excelled at the follow through.
So then the guy sees I'm not running away and just yells, "FUCK YOU!" so I of course take the high road and yell back, "Fuck you too!" He yells "You're a fucking bitch" I yell, "No, you're a fucking bitch!". You can see I'm especially creative when I'm in a yelling match with a psycho at 8:30 in the morning, as I'm dropping my son off at daycare. He ran down the alleyway and I was left to look around at the faces of the people who had been watching all of this. No one else did, so I started a slow clap for myself. The crowd followed suit and suddenly there was a thunder of slow claps happening at my bravery. Nope, that didn't happen. People were watching on their way to the subway but on one really gave a shit.
At this point I looked into the face of my, not even 2 year old, and I think I saw a glimmer of respect twinkle in his eye. That or fear. Either way, it's a victory.

Spew

The most judgmental people in the world aren't Judges. They're parents. Especially first time parents. You don't want to be judgmental by nature, but it's simply the insecurities that go along with having no idea what you're doing, that seem to create this sort of environment.It's just human nature that, to feel better about yourself, it's easiest to put others down. The best way to conquer this, is to just admit that you don't have a clue and drink your way through it. Anyhow, as I'm a perfect mother, I'm sure no one can pass judgement on anything I do, however for the purpose of this blog I will share a moment when perhaps my mothering came in to question.

Dex is in daycare a few days a week, and as a result, is building up an immune system that even Agent Orange couldn't penetrate. He's pretty much always sick at this point, some times worse than others. A few weeks ago happened to be one of these times. He had ear infections, chest infection and just general malaise.
So I kept him home from daycare. That day, however, I was sick. I had the Norwalk or some other disgusting ailment where you feel really sorry for yourself and everything you ate since 1998 is coming out.
Since Dex is nearly 2, it's pretty hard to just layabout with him, because he's constantly moving. I decided that I would take him to the drop-in center down the road, where he could just run around with all the other little kids, while I quietly switched between a combo of sweat and shiver, in the corner.
So I'm sitting there in my own vile filth while he's doing his thing. At this point, I hadn't barfed and didn't really think I would because I'm not much of a barfer. I've only barfed from booze a handful of times in my life. Pretty good eh? Anyhow it's this kind of barf arrogance that ends up getting you into trouble.
Suddenly it starts happening. The warm spittle and constricting throat starts to creep it's way up into my mouth. I try to mentally push it back but even my Jedi mind isn't strong enough to conquer this influx of reflux.
Oh shit, I think, here it effing comes.
I jump up from the play mat, push some creepy twins out of the way and make it, just in time to the bathroom, which, you should know, has a tiny toilet.
I get myself together and think "crap, I hope someone is watching Dex."
I leave the bathroom and scan the room for my son. There's tons of kids there so I can't seem to spot him, and have a mini panic. My eyes are darting back and forth. Where the hell is he? As I feel like I'm going to barf again from panic I spot him at the front entrance way. Pheefuuuf. Wait a sec. What's he doing? My eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting after I've been barfing in the dark comforts of the kiddy bathroom. Yup, he's doing it. He has dumped some woman's purse upside down and is emptying her wallet and rooting through all of her crap.
I moan and say (out loud) "You must be fucking kidding me" , lurch towards the front door, grab Dex and all of his crap and get the hell out of there. I didn't bother with the purse. Just left it there, strewn about.
Oh! I almost left out a very important part of the story. Like millions of Canadians, I suffer from Oral Herpes. Hot. So I happened to have a boiler on my lip, this particular day. I hadn't bothered to look in the mirror after the "incident" and hadn't realized that this little beauty had started to bleed. Must have been the force of the spew. So when I left the kiddie bathroom, having just spent 10 minutes heaving and moaning, I appeared with blood trickling down my face. Nice. Let's not forget that I dropped an F Bomb, out loud, as well.
I got in the car, came home and allowed the cat to parent Dexter for the rest of the day while I tried my hardest not to fall asleep.
There are a few things in my life that I need not repeat. Finite math,trying to install a dimmer switch, getting a gum graft and taking my toddler to a really bright indoor playground while in the throws of the stomach flu.

What a rip

Right so it's been like 6 months since my last blog. In that time I have been working, sleeping, eating, farting and seducing. In that order. Dexter is now a year and half, which is outrageous. Why is it, when you're a kid, time passes so slowly? It took FOREVER for Santa to arrive. It seemed like a million years before the next summer rolled around. Now a year is just a blip. Is it because we drink? I mean because I drink?
So now that I am working my butt off on my new company (if anyone knows or needs online video content, let me know) I put Dex in daycare a couple of days a week, which I think I already mentioned. I just needed an organic way to plug my company (www.elpeaproductions.com) so that's why I mentioned it. Anyhoo, you want to know what the biggest rip off is? When you pick your kid up from daycare at 5pm, and you still have to clean up two shit diapers. I figure he's there for 8 hours, surely he should have gotten all of his pooping done. What the hell are we paying for? Education? Love? It's one of the perks of having someone else take care of him all day. I don't have to deal with disgusting turds. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking I might ask Shakira(the daycare lady) for some money back. I think it's only fair. Unfortunately, due to her limited English, I'll probably end up just getting his poop diapers from her or something.
The other day I picked Dex up and was just going to head straight to the cottage. I had forgotten his sippy cup so when I went to get him from Shakira I asked her, "Shakira, can I grab Dexters sippy cup from you? I'll bring it back on MOnday it's just that I've forgotten his and we're going to be in the car for 2 hours." She is standing smiling at me. "Ok Shakira, so can I have his cup?"
Shakira. "Jes"
She's still smiling and staring at me.
Me, "Can I have it now?"
Shakira, "Jes. No problem."
She's not moving, just smiling.
So now I start to make the motion of drinking and I've now started to talk really loudly because for some reason I think volume might help,
"SHAKIRA. I NEED TO GET HIS CUP SO HE CAN HAVE A DRINK." I'm tipping my head back and making the drinking motion. I can see people walking home from work looking at me like I'm an alcoholic. "Jesus Christ, just forget. He can drink out of the water bottle."
Shakira, "Jes."
She has a good enough command of the English language, I guess I'm just going to have to brush up on my Persian.

Speaking of daycare, can we seriously start some kind of Egypt style revolt to change how daycare works in this province? It's bullshit. It's expensive and impossible to get into and expensive. The problem is that the people who are willing to fight for this are too busy and tired because we're all trying to work, be parents and look hot. I don't have to try too hard at the last one, just wanted to be inclusive.
If anyone from the Black Bloc is reading this, maybe you can give me some ideas as to how to start a pointless riot to get my voice heard. Until next time.

What did you say?

I am officially the worst blogger in the world, but this just in: I don't really give a care. That's right,give a care. So Dex is fully walking now. It is super cute and I am constantly laughing my head off but at the same time, we're constantly running our asses off and it's hardcore. I normally try to give him decent food but I pretty much just fed him cookies tonight so he would stay in his highchair while I drank Newcastle Brown Ale with my neighbour. It's a beer worth getting your kid hopped up on sugar for. So he's in daycare a few days a week while I work and the other days I send him to work as Rob Fords taster. There are far too many people who want to poison that man.
His daycare lady is called Shakira, as in the she wolf, as in my hips don't lie. I was at first attracted to this woman because of her name. It's awesome. The only other name that could compare to this, with regards to the person who I am going to entrust with my child's life, would be Magnum. If I could have found a daycare provider whose name was Magnum, that person would have beaten Shakira as Dexters daycare provider. There was another time I based a decision solely on the name of a person. I was looking for a new voice agent here in Toronto. I was going through the list of agents and saw that this one guy at AAB Talent was accepting submissions. His name was Warren Beatty. I called him right away. I wanted Warren Beatty in my corner. I met him and he looked like a regular sized Webster. I was going to say giant Webster, but that's really just a regular Webster right? Anyhow, turns out Warren was useless and I wasn't getting any auditions. I started asking around if this guy was any good. Turns out the A A B stands for Asian Action Booking. I am neither Asian or capable of any action. Well, that's not entirely true; I can do a pretty sweet high kick. Anyhow, I learned my lesson from making life decisions based on cool names and decided to do a little more research with regards to Shakira. Turns out she's awesome. Her English is a bit Persian but we seem to communicate effectively, except for the other day. When I picked Dex up from daycare Shakira tells me, "Oh Lareesa, diahrrhea sooo bad."
"Oh" I say, "That's too bad."
"Yes",she says, "it's very stinky."
"Oh ya? Well, was it something you ate?" She replies, "Maybe, what you eat him?" I say, "Oh ya, he's so cute I just want to eat him up." She looks at me really confused. "Well" I say, "I hope you feel better. Diarrhea's the worst." Her face twists from confused to understood. "Oohhh, noo" she says, "Shakira no have diarehhea, baby has diarrhea" She's saying this as she's pointing to her own bum. OHHHHHHHHH. Woops. She was telling me the baby had diarrhea and here I am telling her I hope her trots clear up. Hilarious but I think this makes our relationship even stronger. I was ok with hearing about her diarrhea and she was cool with me thinking she was talking to me about her floopy poops. That is precisely the kind of relationship I need with the woman I entrust my baby's life with. That's it for now.