First off, do you think the title of this blog is too much? Ok, so here's a disclaimer: I'm going to talk about religion so if you're sensitive to it then I suggest you skip this one. Here's the thing, after much deliberating,I have decided to go ahead and get Dexter baptized. My sister-in-law put it best when she said, "Do you feel as strongly about NOT getting him baptized as your parents feel about GETTING him baptized?" The answer was no, I don't so why not make them happy and just go and do it. Although I don't consider myself Catholic, they are and it's important to them so because I love them so much, I will of course do it. I see it as a nice way to get the family together to celebrate the baby.HOWEVER, these people do not make it easy. I went to a church on Kingston Road here in beautiful East York, Toronto. I had to get my original baptism certificate (huge pain in the ass) in order to even have Dex considered. Anyhow, I think we're all ready to go when the Deacon calls me up and encourages me to get him baptized at the church of which Will and I would be considered "parishinors" if we were Catholic. So now I start to lie, (a lot), to a super nice holy man. "Well, I just really love your church and it just gives me a nice feeling and I would like him to get baptized there." The truth? You were the first place I called that had any spots available in November a.k.a MO-vember and I've been growing my moustache for weeks in anticipation of this oh-so-holy event. He was so nice and kind and just wants me to raise my baby in a church that we can become a part of and all of this stuff. I feel the soles of my feet burning as the flames of hell tickle my arches. "I understand that but I feel right about this and hope that we can do it in two weeks time." He responds, "Why don't you go round this other church, attend mass and see how you feel! Then if you really believe in your heart that this is the church for you, then I would be more than happy to baptize your baby." Crap. "Ok Deacon, I'll be in touch." I get off the phone and unleash a fury of eff bombs. I call this other church and this woman was not as nice as Deacon Jerry. Me: "Hi, I'm calling to discuss baptizing our son at your church." Her: "Are you Catholic?" Me: "Yes" ouch, here come those effing flames again.
"Well are you a member at this parish?"
"No, we just moved to the neighborhood. We just came from Vancouver." Now I'm just lying for no reason and the flames are climbing up my calves.
"Well in order for your son to get baptized here we'll need your baptism certificate as well as your husbands and both of your confirmation certificates."
"Well my husband isn't Catholic."
"What is he?"
"He's sexy."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Ok, I didn't say that. I said, "He's of no religious denomination."
Silence.More silence.
"Well you 'll have to get your priest from Vancouver to send a letter to us saying you're a practicing Catholic." Which is sort of funny because right now I AM practicing to be a Catholic. I'm practicing really really hard, some might even say I'm acting the part really well. She recommends another church so I call there. This woman not only wants all of these certificates from Will and I but a bunch of stuff from my brother and sister-in-law, who are meant to be the goddparents. PLUS, they want us to come in a meet the priest and do some class. Holy crap Catholocism. This just in: You're not the most popular choice for religions these days, not sure if you read the papers, but you could stand to be a BIT more lenient with regards to who you let in. I don't think you really have the luxury to be picky. Do I have to spell it out here? Your leaders aren't exactly the barometer by which one should judge good and bad and you're giving ME a hard time? I'm seriously beginning to reconsider this whole, "make-my-parents-happy" thingy. Anyhow, hopefully this super nice Deacon will just give us the green light and fingers crossed he doesn't read this blog. By the way, I know how hypocritical it is to have my baby baptized when I don't believe at all in the religion but what the hell.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Psychically Delicious
I was thinking; you can me overwhelmed and underwhelmed so if you're just content, are you simply whelmed? Like if I'm just hanging out and someone asks me,"Hey Larissa Primeau, what's up?" Can I answer, "Not much just whelming out." I think the laws of the English language would dictate that yes, I could. Speaking of dick-tate, how annoying is Jennifer Valentine? The baby sleeps through the night but wakes up at 5:30-6:30 now. I let him play while I watch BT. She's kind of half Kimmy Gibler half Six from Blossom: the annoying neighbor that you have to be nice too.
Speaking of annoying, I had yet another moment of WTF, with the baby , at the grocery store. He is 7 months and currently the cutest thing I've ever ever ever seen. We're at Loblaws buying lots of Presidents Choice (I wonder if Galen Weston feels obligated to only buy PC brand but sometimes just hates his Dad and goes for Heinz). I'm in the produce aisles and a woman yells over from the adjacent aisle, "WHAT A CUTE BABY! LET ME SEE HIM." She comes running over and I get a chance to assess who I'm about to interact with. She is definitely eccentric. Rings on every finger, fantasy themed sweatshirt and those kind of glasses that are so thick it looks like her eyes are holograms. She also looks (and smells) like she's been into a bag of Smartfood. Gross. She starts rubbing the baby's head, which I immediately think is a bit much, but just figure she's a friendly lady who loves babies. She's talking but I don't really know about what. Then she tells me, "You know, I'm gifted." At first I thought she meant academically and I started to cough out "Bullshit" but before I could she said, "You know....psycically." Ohhhhhh, of course, thaaaat kind of gifted. Well, even responding this with a simple "oh ya" was apparently an invitation for her to start talking about herself for (i'm not exagerrating) 25 minutes. She started by telling me she's found over 8000 kids in Phoenix, Arizona. Guess you shouldn't let your kids out of your site in Phoenix. What an outrageous lie but I continue to let her talk. She was going on and on and on about Julian Fantino(previously Toronto's Chief of Police) and how he never listens to her. I of course say loudly, "That son of a bitch!" "I know!!!" she answers enthusiastically, obviously missing my sarcasm. It's eventually getting to be a bit of a bore being so polite so just as I'm ready to say, "Have a nice day" she puts her hands on Dexter's head and says, "Oh, he is just the joy of you and your husbands life." Thanks psychic. "He's going to be a lawyer or an advocate for something." That was good to hear but she was in fact, nuts, so I didn't take what she said too much to heart. If Dexter goes to law school and fights for the little man, I have some apologizing to do but in the meantime, I said thanks, she said "God Bless" I told her "I didn't sneeze" and off we went. I spent the rest of my time making sure we didn't get in the same aisle again.
I just took Dex on a plane for the first time last week, that blogs to come. In the meantime, I have to get the baby brushed up and ready for law school. Basically I'm just going to one day tell him to tell the law school that in 2010, a psychic who smelled like Smartfood, predicted it was his destiny, so no LSATS required.
Speaking of annoying, I had yet another moment of WTF, with the baby , at the grocery store. He is 7 months and currently the cutest thing I've ever ever ever seen. We're at Loblaws buying lots of Presidents Choice (I wonder if Galen Weston feels obligated to only buy PC brand but sometimes just hates his Dad and goes for Heinz). I'm in the produce aisles and a woman yells over from the adjacent aisle, "WHAT A CUTE BABY! LET ME SEE HIM." She comes running over and I get a chance to assess who I'm about to interact with. She is definitely eccentric. Rings on every finger, fantasy themed sweatshirt and those kind of glasses that are so thick it looks like her eyes are holograms. She also looks (and smells) like she's been into a bag of Smartfood. Gross. She starts rubbing the baby's head, which I immediately think is a bit much, but just figure she's a friendly lady who loves babies. She's talking but I don't really know about what. Then she tells me, "You know, I'm gifted." At first I thought she meant academically and I started to cough out "Bullshit" but before I could she said, "You know....psycically." Ohhhhhh, of course, thaaaat kind of gifted. Well, even responding this with a simple "oh ya" was apparently an invitation for her to start talking about herself for (i'm not exagerrating) 25 minutes. She started by telling me she's found over 8000 kids in Phoenix, Arizona. Guess you shouldn't let your kids out of your site in Phoenix. What an outrageous lie but I continue to let her talk. She was going on and on and on about Julian Fantino(previously Toronto's Chief of Police) and how he never listens to her. I of course say loudly, "That son of a bitch!" "I know!!!" she answers enthusiastically, obviously missing my sarcasm. It's eventually getting to be a bit of a bore being so polite so just as I'm ready to say, "Have a nice day" she puts her hands on Dexter's head and says, "Oh, he is just the joy of you and your husbands life." Thanks psychic. "He's going to be a lawyer or an advocate for something." That was good to hear but she was in fact, nuts, so I didn't take what she said too much to heart. If Dexter goes to law school and fights for the little man, I have some apologizing to do but in the meantime, I said thanks, she said "God Bless" I told her "I didn't sneeze" and off we went. I spent the rest of my time making sure we didn't get in the same aisle again.
I just took Dex on a plane for the first time last week, that blogs to come. In the meantime, I have to get the baby brushed up and ready for law school. Basically I'm just going to one day tell him to tell the law school that in 2010, a psychic who smelled like Smartfood, predicted it was his destiny, so no LSATS required.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
What am I doing wrong?
I was just reading over some of my past blogs and I've noticed something. Odd things happen to me. I'm approached by weirdo's, I have public mishaps and I don't really know why. Will says it's because I stare at people too much; I guess that explains the weirdos. One time in Vancouver I stared at this weird guy for too long. It wasn't my fault, he was half way through a sex change and I dare you to name me one person who wouldn't look at that for a second longer than appropriate. The guy is walking towards me really quickly. Now I see that not only is he in the midst of a huge life change, but he also has "crazy" gleaming in his heavily made up eye. As he passes me, he extends his right arm and clotheslines me, right in front of a sidewalk cafe! Because he/she was going at such a fast clip, I stumbled backwards and almost landed on a baby carriage. The woman screeches and tries to push me out of the way. Now I'm falling in the opposite direction. It all happened in about 2 seconds but it was total chaos. The people at the cafe thought he/she had stabbed me and one nice man asked, "Should I go after him". I answered, "Uh no, he's crazy and you can't chase crazy out of someone." I decided to stop slack-jaw staring at people.
Now last week Dexter and I went to Winners at Yonge and Bloor. In the beginning I was way more apprehensive of taking the baby with all the shit, into the heart of the city. Not because I was worried about safety or anything, more because it's a giant pain in the ass. Now I don't really care and if me and my buggy seem to bother people, that's their problem. I was in a line-up waiting to buy a pair of shoes. The woman who was at the till was taking FOREVER and people started jumping out of line out of annoyance. A guy game and opened up a second cash and said, "I can help someone over here." The 2nd woman in line went to the new till and now I was third in line at the annoying till. So, I decided to jump into the new line too, becoming second in line. Now I don't know what your philosophy on line-ups might be, but to me, if someone opens a new till, you can either keep your spot in the original line or roll the dice and jump into the new line. It might be the right decision, it may not but that's how it works....to me. This was not the line-up philosophy shared by the she-beast who was second in the original line. As soon as I went up to the till to pay for my shoes, she came white-trashing her way over and slammed the stupid thermos she was buying on the counter and yelled, "EXCUSE ME BUT I WAS NEXT IN LINE AND YOU CUT IN LINE AND YOU ARE RUDE AND OBNOXIOUS." I don't normally use this word, but I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what the hell she was talking about so I very smoothly answered," wuh wuh wuh wuh wuhhhhht?" Fat White Trash answers "I WAS WAITING NEXT IN LINE AND YOU SHOVED AHEAD OF AND YOU'RE RUDE AND DISREPECTFUL". Now I have a handle on what's going on and I am burning with rage and want to unleash a tirade of motha fucka's on her but I see her 6 year old and her 2 year old staring up at us with sheer terror in their eyes. I have a feeling they've heard her go nutso more than once. I gave them a sympathetic look that said, "sorry that you had to be her egg. I hope at least one of your Daddies is rich." At this point there is honestly a crowd gathering.Anyhow, instead of showing her how many ways I could call her female gentalia, I decided to take the
high road and said, " I think you're confused. You could have done the same thing I did. You chose the wrong line". Fat White Trash responds, "YOU'RE RUDE AND DISRESPECTFUL AND I WON'T LET YOU BUD IN LINE." Now I'm starting to lose control and for just a split second contemplate throwing my shoes at her and running. What is wrong with people? If she really thought I had wronged her, why couldn't she just calmly tell me how she felt. I'm a rational person. I would have laughed it off, apologized for the misunderstanding and let her go ahead. Instead, she chose to go menopausal on me and freak the eff out. I decide to hit low and say, "This is a fine example you're setting for your children." See, when someone is screaming and going nuts, the best idea is to calmly attack their character, I recommend going for the kids and their inability to raise them. I was pretty proud of myself until she started to slowly walk towards me. Now she's about a foot in front of my face and I'm thinking, "Oh shit, am I going to have to throw down at the Winners? I don't know how to throw down. I'm fucked." She sticks he finger in my face and yells,"I'M SETTING A GREAT EXAMPLE FOR THEM! I'M SHOWING THEM NOT TO GET PUSHED AROUND!" I could smell the ham on her breath. I figured this woman had been in a few dust ups in her day so I stepped back and said. "Alright, just pay for your stuff." In the meantime, the pimply cashier said, "Ladies, ladies please". HIlarious. This poor teenage boy didn't learn how to deal with this in Winners training. Anyhow the moral of the story is....I don't really know but it took a few drinks to calm down after than one. THe next day a psychic in Loblaws talked to Dex and I for 40 minutes. I really have to stop making eye contact. That story to follow.
Now last week Dexter and I went to Winners at Yonge and Bloor. In the beginning I was way more apprehensive of taking the baby with all the shit, into the heart of the city. Not because I was worried about safety or anything, more because it's a giant pain in the ass. Now I don't really care and if me and my buggy seem to bother people, that's their problem. I was in a line-up waiting to buy a pair of shoes. The woman who was at the till was taking FOREVER and people started jumping out of line out of annoyance. A guy game and opened up a second cash and said, "I can help someone over here." The 2nd woman in line went to the new till and now I was third in line at the annoying till. So, I decided to jump into the new line too, becoming second in line. Now I don't know what your philosophy on line-ups might be, but to me, if someone opens a new till, you can either keep your spot in the original line or roll the dice and jump into the new line. It might be the right decision, it may not but that's how it works....to me. This was not the line-up philosophy shared by the she-beast who was second in the original line. As soon as I went up to the till to pay for my shoes, she came white-trashing her way over and slammed the stupid thermos she was buying on the counter and yelled, "EXCUSE ME BUT I WAS NEXT IN LINE AND YOU CUT IN LINE AND YOU ARE RUDE AND OBNOXIOUS." I don't normally use this word, but I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what the hell she was talking about so I very smoothly answered," wuh wuh wuh wuh wuhhhhht?" Fat White Trash answers "I WAS WAITING NEXT IN LINE AND YOU SHOVED AHEAD OF AND YOU'RE RUDE AND DISREPECTFUL". Now I have a handle on what's going on and I am burning with rage and want to unleash a tirade of motha fucka's on her but I see her 6 year old and her 2 year old staring up at us with sheer terror in their eyes. I have a feeling they've heard her go nutso more than once. I gave them a sympathetic look that said, "sorry that you had to be her egg. I hope at least one of your Daddies is rich." At this point there is honestly a crowd gathering.Anyhow, instead of showing her how many ways I could call her female gentalia, I decided to take the
high road and said, " I think you're confused. You could have done the same thing I did. You chose the wrong line". Fat White Trash responds, "YOU'RE RUDE AND DISRESPECTFUL AND I WON'T LET YOU BUD IN LINE." Now I'm starting to lose control and for just a split second contemplate throwing my shoes at her and running. What is wrong with people? If she really thought I had wronged her, why couldn't she just calmly tell me how she felt. I'm a rational person. I would have laughed it off, apologized for the misunderstanding and let her go ahead. Instead, she chose to go menopausal on me and freak the eff out. I decide to hit low and say, "This is a fine example you're setting for your children." See, when someone is screaming and going nuts, the best idea is to calmly attack their character, I recommend going for the kids and their inability to raise them. I was pretty proud of myself until she started to slowly walk towards me. Now she's about a foot in front of my face and I'm thinking, "Oh shit, am I going to have to throw down at the Winners? I don't know how to throw down. I'm fucked." She sticks he finger in my face and yells,"I'M SETTING A GREAT EXAMPLE FOR THEM! I'M SHOWING THEM NOT TO GET PUSHED AROUND!" I could smell the ham on her breath. I figured this woman had been in a few dust ups in her day so I stepped back and said. "Alright, just pay for your stuff." In the meantime, the pimply cashier said, "Ladies, ladies please". HIlarious. This poor teenage boy didn't learn how to deal with this in Winners training. Anyhow the moral of the story is....I don't really know but it took a few drinks to calm down after than one. THe next day a psychic in Loblaws talked to Dex and I for 40 minutes. I really have to stop making eye contact. That story to follow.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Upper cut Upper cut
So I shaved my legs. Annoying. I guess it's better than shaving my face every day. I mean I only have to do that every now and then.
Dexter is 6 months and we're right in the midst of letting him "cry it out" at night. Up until this point, he's been getting up once a night and one of us has had to go in and just soothe him back to sleep. Anyhow, that was enough of that so we are currently on day two of letting him cry it out at night. I don't know who or what this whole Ferberizer thing is, I may have smoked weed out of one in University, all I know is that we've made the decision and we're sticking with it. The first night he cried for about an hour and 15 minutes, last night 30 minutes. I thought I would DIE when we had to do this but the wine and ear plugs are doing their job and I haven't really laid in bed bawling, like I thought I would.I wanted some valium too but apparantly you're not supposed to give that to babies.Obviously that's a joke but while we're on the topic I have an open request to science. Science, can you please figure out something harmless to give babies to make them sleep? Stop working on cloning sheep and get your shit together. Stupid science.
Here's the thing, maybe it's not that "nice" to let your baby cry in the middle of the night, but you know what else isn't nice? Having Super Nanny come to your home and make you some busted ass schedule while she tells you how incompetent you are. This baby is going to sleep for 12 hours a night, in his own bed, if it's the last thing I do.
As a new Mom, you have to quickly adapt to a brand new lifestyle. Before Dex, I had 31 years of just pretty much doing what I wanted and being amazing. Yes, it's super cool hanging out with Dex and seeing him grow, but I would be lying if I didn't say that there are times when I get a bit squirrly. It's not even that I need people to hang out with or anything, I just need to do something that has nothing to do with baby and everything to do with me. I don't think there's anything wrong with being a bit selfish. As a matter of fact, I think it's a bit good for kids, especially when you only have one. I've never been a mathematician but I have an equation: Too Much Attention = Spoiled Kid.
So I went to the gym and did this mixed martial arts class and left Dexter in the gym daycare a.k.a germ warfare. There were about 4 babies and 6 toddlers snotting around and licking everything. It was awesome. This is how you build an air tight immune system, Dexter is going to be like the bionic baby.So in this class you do a lot of kicking and punching. I was really into it and punching the shit out of an imaginary opponent. Jab , jab, jab, kick kick kick!
"HEY LADIES! CAN YOU FEEL THE BURN IN YOUR BUTT!?!?!"
My inside voice: " I can feel the jiggle in it."
"DO YOU WANT THIS?"
My inside voice: "I want plastic surgery instead"
"C'MON! I WANNA SEE YOU SWEAT!"
My inside voice: "I wanna see you die"
So there I am jumping and sweating and having a great time when I go and throw a solid right upper cut....right into my chin. I punched myself in the chin...hard. The craziest part about this whole fiasco? It's not the first time I've done it! I took a similar class a few years ago and punched myself so hard in the chin I thought I had bit my tongue off. The instructor even stopped the class. Anyhow, this self-inflicted punch wasn't so bad as the first time I did it. Hopefully next time I take this class I won't spaz out and nail myself again. I'm happy to take a class that teaches me how to kick some ass because I almost had to throw down at the Winners the other day. That's for the next blog.
Dexter is 6 months and we're right in the midst of letting him "cry it out" at night. Up until this point, he's been getting up once a night and one of us has had to go in and just soothe him back to sleep. Anyhow, that was enough of that so we are currently on day two of letting him cry it out at night. I don't know who or what this whole Ferberizer thing is, I may have smoked weed out of one in University, all I know is that we've made the decision and we're sticking with it. The first night he cried for about an hour and 15 minutes, last night 30 minutes. I thought I would DIE when we had to do this but the wine and ear plugs are doing their job and I haven't really laid in bed bawling, like I thought I would.I wanted some valium too but apparantly you're not supposed to give that to babies.Obviously that's a joke but while we're on the topic I have an open request to science. Science, can you please figure out something harmless to give babies to make them sleep? Stop working on cloning sheep and get your shit together. Stupid science.
Here's the thing, maybe it's not that "nice" to let your baby cry in the middle of the night, but you know what else isn't nice? Having Super Nanny come to your home and make you some busted ass schedule while she tells you how incompetent you are. This baby is going to sleep for 12 hours a night, in his own bed, if it's the last thing I do.
As a new Mom, you have to quickly adapt to a brand new lifestyle. Before Dex, I had 31 years of just pretty much doing what I wanted and being amazing. Yes, it's super cool hanging out with Dex and seeing him grow, but I would be lying if I didn't say that there are times when I get a bit squirrly. It's not even that I need people to hang out with or anything, I just need to do something that has nothing to do with baby and everything to do with me. I don't think there's anything wrong with being a bit selfish. As a matter of fact, I think it's a bit good for kids, especially when you only have one. I've never been a mathematician but I have an equation: Too Much Attention = Spoiled Kid.
So I went to the gym and did this mixed martial arts class and left Dexter in the gym daycare a.k.a germ warfare. There were about 4 babies and 6 toddlers snotting around and licking everything. It was awesome. This is how you build an air tight immune system, Dexter is going to be like the bionic baby.So in this class you do a lot of kicking and punching. I was really into it and punching the shit out of an imaginary opponent. Jab , jab, jab, kick kick kick!
"HEY LADIES! CAN YOU FEEL THE BURN IN YOUR BUTT!?!?!"
My inside voice: " I can feel the jiggle in it."
"DO YOU WANT THIS?"
My inside voice: "I want plastic surgery instead"
"C'MON! I WANNA SEE YOU SWEAT!"
My inside voice: "I wanna see you die"
So there I am jumping and sweating and having a great time when I go and throw a solid right upper cut....right into my chin. I punched myself in the chin...hard. The craziest part about this whole fiasco? It's not the first time I've done it! I took a similar class a few years ago and punched myself so hard in the chin I thought I had bit my tongue off. The instructor even stopped the class. Anyhow, this self-inflicted punch wasn't so bad as the first time I did it. Hopefully next time I take this class I won't spaz out and nail myself again. I'm happy to take a class that teaches me how to kick some ass because I almost had to throw down at the Winners the other day. That's for the next blog.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Spoiler Alert: May be Offensive
The weather is getting cooler and we are rapidly approaching hairy leg season. There are pretty much two seasons in my world: smooth leg weather and stubbly leg weather. Who am I kidding, they're stubbly in the summer too. I try, but seriously, every day? Sometimes I wish I was a hippie....or German.
We're getting into fall and Dex is 6 months old and cute levels are reaching an all time high. It's out of control. It's also out of control that I only have 6 months left of maternity leave.Shit. Who's going to watch The Golden Girls at 2:30 in the afternoon now?
Dear people at TV Tropolis,
I'm sorry your ratings are suffering, I had to go back to work.
P.S (Consider showing re-runs of Small Wonder. Vikki was a robot well ahead of her time)
I was in Yorkville not long ago, just wasting time and people watching. I was pushing Dex in his stroller and realized I wasn't the only one. Yorkville is a hot spot for Mom's, baby buggy's congesting the streets, only these aren't the kind of baby buggy's that I have, or my friends have. These are the baby buggy's of the elite or just people who want super expensive baby buggy's. Now I don't dive into swimming pools of money every day so it's hard for me to wrap my head around spending that much money on something so temporary, for someone who really could care less, but I'm trying. To those who have these uber-expensive buggy's, please enlighten me...do they perform felatio? Can they make gelato? Do they play re-runs of Small Wonder? Listen, I know I sound judgemental but I'm trying my best not too because everyone can do whatever they want, with whatever funds they have,I know it's a personal choice. I just want to understand. I like spending money. I like spending $1000 or $1500 on travel, or home improvement or on a couple of sweet call girls and an 8 ball of blow, but I don't get the over-priced buggy. So anyhow, the jokes on me because as I was over analyzing the banality of expensive strollers I was too busy staring at the ladies lunching on the patio of the restaurant I passing, and walked right smack into a parking meter. Let me correct that, I ran the baby, in his stroller, right into a parking meter. Whoops. I let out a slightly hysterical laugh and took my heavily discounted Graco stroller and got the hell out of there.
We're getting into fall and Dex is 6 months old and cute levels are reaching an all time high. It's out of control. It's also out of control that I only have 6 months left of maternity leave.Shit. Who's going to watch The Golden Girls at 2:30 in the afternoon now?
Dear people at TV Tropolis,
I'm sorry your ratings are suffering, I had to go back to work.
P.S (Consider showing re-runs of Small Wonder. Vikki was a robot well ahead of her time)
I was in Yorkville not long ago, just wasting time and people watching. I was pushing Dex in his stroller and realized I wasn't the only one. Yorkville is a hot spot for Mom's, baby buggy's congesting the streets, only these aren't the kind of baby buggy's that I have, or my friends have. These are the baby buggy's of the elite or just people who want super expensive baby buggy's. Now I don't dive into swimming pools of money every day so it's hard for me to wrap my head around spending that much money on something so temporary, for someone who really could care less, but I'm trying. To those who have these uber-expensive buggy's, please enlighten me...do they perform felatio? Can they make gelato? Do they play re-runs of Small Wonder? Listen, I know I sound judgemental but I'm trying my best not too because everyone can do whatever they want, with whatever funds they have,I know it's a personal choice. I just want to understand. I like spending money. I like spending $1000 or $1500 on travel, or home improvement or on a couple of sweet call girls and an 8 ball of blow, but I don't get the over-priced buggy. So anyhow, the jokes on me because as I was over analyzing the banality of expensive strollers I was too busy staring at the ladies lunching on the patio of the restaurant I passing, and walked right smack into a parking meter. Let me correct that, I ran the baby, in his stroller, right into a parking meter. Whoops. I let out a slightly hysterical laugh and took my heavily discounted Graco stroller and got the hell out of there.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Ou est la moula?
Ok, so the film festival is about to start here in Toronto and I've decided that I'm going to strap the baby in the baby bjorn and try to crash a party. What bouncer douchebag is going to turn away a woman with a baby? I'll be sure to film it.
So Will is currently on paternity leave for a couple of weeks which is awesome. His work tops him up to 80% of his salary, my company does not. That is why I steal. Anyhow, I travel to the States a lot with my work and while preggers and in the U.S, I realized how much better we have it up here compared to them. Getting a year off and paid about $1600 a month from the government is a pretty good deal. HOWEVER, it's not even remotely as good as other countries.Sweden gives 16 months full paid leave per child. In the Czech Republic, women can stay home for 3 years with every child and are supported by the state, the entire time! It's probably a bitch moving up in the corporate world as a woman in the Czech Republic, I imagine.Guess what they get in the States? 12 weeks. 12 weeks and not a dime. I wonder where they find the time to get so fat? Just kidding Americans. Please don't shoot.
Anyhow, we've spent lots of time at the cottage since Will has been off and the baby loves it. As he is a product of Will and I he's pretty white. Almost translucent. You're not supposed to put baby sunscreen on a baby until they're 6 months so I just made sure he was in the shade and wore a hat the whole time. I swear he got about 5 minutes of sun and his little arm was a bit burnt. Woops! So I've decided that sunscreen is probably better than a sunburn so now he's all oiled up with Hawaiian Tropic oil. He's getting ready for a role on The Jersey Shore. Speaking of which, can you believe Angelina and Vinny? HIOHHHHH!
Dex is almost 6 months and I think soon it'll be time for him to leave the Breast-aurant. He's sort of playing with them now and it's weirding me out so in a couple of weeks I'm going to somehow figure out how to stop breast feeding without my boobs getting engorged. There's two words I never thought I would have to put together: boobs and engorged. Isn't it so weird that we all fed off of our mother's breasts? I know I'm supposed to say it's so amazing and magical but I'm sorry, it is kinda weird. Milk comes out of my nipples. Sometimes it's a Shiraz, other times a Merlot. Speaking of which, it'll be nice to be able to have more than 1 or 2 glasses of wine. Je t'aime le vino. To be honest, I 'm just pretty proud that I was able to do it at all. In the beginning it was THE WORST but then your nipples become like horses reins (as in leather and tough) and you're good to go. Sexy eh? Until next time.
So Will is currently on paternity leave for a couple of weeks which is awesome. His work tops him up to 80% of his salary, my company does not. That is why I steal. Anyhow, I travel to the States a lot with my work and while preggers and in the U.S, I realized how much better we have it up here compared to them. Getting a year off and paid about $1600 a month from the government is a pretty good deal. HOWEVER, it's not even remotely as good as other countries.Sweden gives 16 months full paid leave per child. In the Czech Republic, women can stay home for 3 years with every child and are supported by the state, the entire time! It's probably a bitch moving up in the corporate world as a woman in the Czech Republic, I imagine.Guess what they get in the States? 12 weeks. 12 weeks and not a dime. I wonder where they find the time to get so fat? Just kidding Americans. Please don't shoot.
Anyhow, we've spent lots of time at the cottage since Will has been off and the baby loves it. As he is a product of Will and I he's pretty white. Almost translucent. You're not supposed to put baby sunscreen on a baby until they're 6 months so I just made sure he was in the shade and wore a hat the whole time. I swear he got about 5 minutes of sun and his little arm was a bit burnt. Woops! So I've decided that sunscreen is probably better than a sunburn so now he's all oiled up with Hawaiian Tropic oil. He's getting ready for a role on The Jersey Shore. Speaking of which, can you believe Angelina and Vinny? HIOHHHHH!
Dex is almost 6 months and I think soon it'll be time for him to leave the Breast-aurant. He's sort of playing with them now and it's weirding me out so in a couple of weeks I'm going to somehow figure out how to stop breast feeding without my boobs getting engorged. There's two words I never thought I would have to put together: boobs and engorged. Isn't it so weird that we all fed off of our mother's breasts? I know I'm supposed to say it's so amazing and magical but I'm sorry, it is kinda weird. Milk comes out of my nipples. Sometimes it's a Shiraz, other times a Merlot. Speaking of which, it'll be nice to be able to have more than 1 or 2 glasses of wine. Je t'aime le vino. To be honest, I 'm just pretty proud that I was able to do it at all. In the beginning it was THE WORST but then your nipples become like horses reins (as in leather and tough) and you're good to go. Sexy eh? Until next time.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
People vs. Dogs
First of all, I forgot to shave my right leg. Just realized it.
Anyhow, Dexter is a little over 5 months now and cute levels are at an all time high, I can't take it. Having a cute baby, I am often stopped by strangers in the grocery store, or drug store or somewhere, and they talk to the baby. Sure, it's friendly and I'm polite but truthfully, I'm beginning to find the whole thing a bit weird. Don't get me wrong, I like people and I have no problem talking but it's the way in which I have to communicate that is starting to weird me out. Here's the thing, I have to talk for the baby. Here's an example: "Ohhhhh, how cute. And what's your name?" Me: "His name is Dexter." "Ohhhhh, and how old are you?" Me: "He's 5 months". "Ohhhhhhhhh. What a cutie. And you crawling yet Dexter?" Me: "No he's not but he's writing Arabic and speaking Latin like a priest."
It's just that when you have a baby, you're forced to talk to people you really have no desire to. It's probably the same for people with puppies. I sound like an uppity beatch but I'm ok with that. You know who I like talking to? Crazy people. Crazy people have all sorts of interesting things to say. In fact, I was once recited a poem all about farting by a crazy person. Now if someone came up to me and Dex and said, "Hey lady with cute baby, can I recite you a poem about farting?" No hesitation. Yes. Of effing course.
Short but sweet. Next blog hear about how Dexter managed to get one sunburned arm. Whoops.
Anyhow, Dexter is a little over 5 months now and cute levels are at an all time high, I can't take it. Having a cute baby, I am often stopped by strangers in the grocery store, or drug store or somewhere, and they talk to the baby. Sure, it's friendly and I'm polite but truthfully, I'm beginning to find the whole thing a bit weird. Don't get me wrong, I like people and I have no problem talking but it's the way in which I have to communicate that is starting to weird me out. Here's the thing, I have to talk for the baby. Here's an example: "Ohhhhh, how cute. And what's your name?" Me: "His name is Dexter." "Ohhhhh, and how old are you?" Me: "He's 5 months". "Ohhhhhhhhh. What a cutie. And you crawling yet Dexter?" Me: "No he's not but he's writing Arabic and speaking Latin like a priest."
It's just that when you have a baby, you're forced to talk to people you really have no desire to. It's probably the same for people with puppies. I sound like an uppity beatch but I'm ok with that. You know who I like talking to? Crazy people. Crazy people have all sorts of interesting things to say. In fact, I was once recited a poem all about farting by a crazy person. Now if someone came up to me and Dex and said, "Hey lady with cute baby, can I recite you a poem about farting?" No hesitation. Yes. Of effing course.
Short but sweet. Next blog hear about how Dexter managed to get one sunburned arm. Whoops.
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