This sounds fake but I swear it's not

Hey.
So it's pretty crazy that Dex is going to be 2 years old on March 20th. It feels like only yesterday I pooped on the delivery table. Oh the memories.
He is officially in toddler mode which is hilarious but certainly tries your patience, anyone who says it doesn't is a goddamn liar. Like seriously kid, I made this amazing meal that took forever and you're going to throw your spoon and chant eggs? I guess I deserve it, I did teach him to chant a lot. I find it usually gets you what you want. For example, if you want a free ride on the subway just go up to the sloth working for the TTC behind the glass, and just chant "FREE RIDE FREE RIDE FREE RIDE" for as long as it takes.
Anyhow, the other thing about a toddler is that you really have to always be doing something with them. They're not into hanging around while you read the Hunger Games trilogy. This is why daycare and work are often a welcome relief to motherhood. Anyhow, Dex and I were hanging out on Friday and I had heard on the radio, that The Cranberries were going to play a few songs down at this station on the lakeshore. I was a teenage girl in the 90's so it was part of my puberty path to listen to and love: Alanis Morrisette, The Cranberries, The Indigo Girls and Ani DiFranco.
Alanis really spoke to me. She was so in tune with my hormones. Wanna know why? Cause I'm here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away.
So it was disgusting out on Friday, freezing rain and general gross winter plummeting from the sky.
We had already been swimming so Dex was pretty tired and fell asleep on the way to the concert. Shit, I thought, he's going to be miserable for this thing and having worked in radio myself, I know it probably wouldn't be a great idea to have a cranky 2 year old around during a live broadcast. So I put one hand in my pocket, fished out my Roll Up The Rim donut winner, and went to Tim Hortons to get a bunch of chocolate timbits. I figured if Dex started to fuss, I would pull a Pez dispenser and keep loading him up with sugar.
I'm in the parking lot and he is OUT, like Mommy on a Sat night trying to watch Moneyball after drinking too much 7 dollar red wine. He's drooling, zipper imprinted in his face, totally out.He was a Zombie, Zombie, Zombie eah eah eah. I'm gently trying to get him up. Nothing is working, so now I clap and start to sing. Nice Mom eh? Also, I must have looked like an idiot, clapping and singing in the parking lot of a radio station. He wakes up slowly and I can see he's pissed, I mean I would be too! But what he doesn't understand is that Mommy spent a lot of Friday nights listening to The Cranberries, getting ready to go to NRG all ages nightclub where she would drink firewater, a mixture of all of Grandma and Grandpas booze. Surely he could understand how important this was for me!
I immediately initiate Operation TimBit overload and he seems to be content. We run through the hail and sleet, into the reception area of the radio station. I had noticed two Escalades had pulled up while I was torturing my toddler out of sleep and sure enough, it was The Cranberries! There was Delores O'Riordan! Some guys had been waiting for her and jumped to get their stuff signed. I went up to reception to ask where we went to get into the studio. Dex was a few feet behind me, eating timbits. I turn around and there's Delores O'Riordan coo'ing at Dex and talking to him. Now I'm going to attempt to write in an Irish accent, like Frank McCourt. She said, "ohhh, isn't he soooo cute." Wait, it sounds Irish in my head, but it just looks normal. I'm all smiles watching this and suddenly Dex drops his Timbit on the floor.
Before I was a parent, I would probably have judged someone who let their kid eat food they dropped on the floor, but now that I'm fully in it, I could care less. It happens ALL OF THE TIME. Besides, we all know about the 5 second rule so who cares right? Delores O'Riordan apparently. I'm staring at her smiling like an idiot and she blurts out, "Oh, the baby! Don't let him eat the donut from the floor!"
Shit. An international rock star is telling me how to parent. If this was some idiot in Loblaws I would have a contrite, witty comeback but I couldn't do it. So I jumped and ran to Dex and grabbed the Timbit out of his hand before he put it in his mouth. He was looking at me like "What the hell was that all about?" She smiled at me and walked away with her entourage. I gave Dex his timbit back.
So we go into the studio and it's rammed with people but it turns out, if you bring a super cute 2 year old to a live broadcast you get treated pretty well. They only sang two songs, but I figured as much, they don't give that stuff out for free very often. That's why you have to steal it.
Anyhow, Delores O'Riordan kept smiling and winking at Dex but I pretended in my mind she was doing it to me. Then the show ended and she came up to us and crouched down and started cooing and talking to Dex. She asked me how old he was and all that stuff you ask people with an adorable kid. Having just been ripped from a deep sleep, Dex was in a total daze, even after the show. He just stared at her but at least he didn't hurl his Timbit. I was super tempted to make a joke about how he was a Zombie, since he had just woken up but I knew it seemed funnier in my head than it would have been out loud. Instead I just said, "Oh I think he's a bit star struck."
So that's it. Our small brush with fame on a Friday. I came home with a smile on my face and just for old times sake, mixed together a bunch of booze and danced to 90's dance tunes. It was just like being a teenage again. Except for the state of my breasts.

The HorseWhisperer

When I was a little girl, I pretended to like two things to fit in: Grease Lightening and horses. Little girls love Grease Lightening and horses. I went so far with the whole horse thing that I even asked to go to horse camp with all of my little friends one summer. Once there, I was quickly categorized as one of the kids that didn't have a clue and realized that I was, in fact, terrified of horses. These things were effing beasts! Why the hell would I want to put myself on the back of a giant animal? I don't. The same way I don't want to put myself on the back of a cow or a Rhino. I also don't want to ride a dolphin. Gross. The only thing I'm interested in doing with animals is eating them and petting them, which sometimes leads to making love. WHOA! Sorry, that's for my other blog.
Anyhow, even though I was 8, I was aware that the "Blue" group was in fact, "the idiot group." Those of us who usually weren't in the idiot group knew that the real difference in the groups wasn't the name of the group, it was the mental and physical abilities of the group. Remember the different reading groups in Grade 1? We all knew that the Snowflakes couldn't really read.
Being in the "Blue" group, to me, was a real failure but I endured. I continued to ride horses with the crossed eyed, glue eating kids of the "Blue" group.
The first horse I had was called Mr.Mugs. He was a dick. He was so fat and all he wanted to do was eat and walk in circles, which wasn't helping my plight in getting out of the "Blue" group. I began to spiral further into a world I didn't want to be in. Glue started to look tastier and tastier.One day we had to brush or horses. This meant that I had to get in a stall with this evil beast and touch it and stand really close to it. This was terrifying but Mindy 18 year old moron who was in love with horses and was our instructor, told me it would all be ok. Liar. I started to brush Mr.Mugs and just as I was starting to become less terrified, the fat ass horse decided he wanted to see out of the other end of the stall, which meant he wanted to turn around. Just so you know, these were tiny stalls and I was already pinned against the side of it, trying to brush the jerk. Mr.Mugs starts to turn around and I am now suspended in mid air, getting suffocated by the side of a horse body! My face was smooshed into his body and I had been lifed off the ground as I was flailing about trying to get the eff out of this situation. I'm trying desperately to get some air but each breath is just another mouth full of brittle horse hair. I'm screaming into the side of the horse for someone to help me, I throw my head sideways to scream some more and now my face is sideways squished up against him but at least now I can breathe. So he settles into a position he's comfortable in and I can breathe again. I start to cry and Mindy,(in a few years when I was a teenager, her label would have easily been "nerd") comes over and tells me it's ok, he would never hurt me. I'm calling bullshit on that Mindy. This horse has a hit out on me and I refuse to have anything else to do with him. Ok, Fine, so they then give me Jewel. Jewel was an older horse who would hopefully be pretty calm. Jewel was blind in one eye. We went on some kind of horse hike and I fell off of him twice because he couldn't see out of his left eye and hit two different pot holes which caused me to fall off of him, hanging onto the saddle for dear life.
Finally they gave me Frank a horse that was about 3 days away from being shot but before his dying breath, he had a bit of fight left in him and when a truck drove by and honked it's horn, Frank got spooked and started to freak out, galloping around the ring, me screaming on his back.
It was finally the last day of horse camp and my Mom and Uncle Morris who was visiting from Sudbury (The Primeau's come from an established line of aristocracy hailing from the finest regions of Sudbury and beyond) came to see the horse show. They put me back on Mr.Muggs the dick and when it came to be my turn to do some tricks, Mr.Muggs and I just stood in the middle of the ring and walked in circles. I could hear my Uncle Morris laughing. It was the worst.
What does any of this have anything to do with the main subject matter of my blog?
I want my son to do whatever he wants in life and realize his dreams, no matter what. If he shows an interest in horses, he's kicked out.