Here's the thing about becoming a parent. Everyone says, "Oh your life changes sooo much" and "It'll never be the same" and "it's so much work" which if you don't have kids, isn't really a great sales pitch. If you've never worked a hard day in your life, well then it might seem overwhelming, but if you're not a total pussy, then it's just a nice extension of what your life already was. There is definitely one thing that's changed for me and that's how I view my parents. You suddenly realize just how much they love you and then you immediately feel like an asshole for ever being a teenager. Another thing that's changed for me is actually thinking about my own mortality. Who ever thinks of dying? Weirdo's that's who. But when you have a kid you suddenly have to think about what would happen if you, or both of you, die. Creepy right? Well I've decided that if I have to go, I want to go like a fruitfly: drowning in a glass of red wine.
Speaking of your life changing, it's not totally unreasonable for you to forget that you have a kid in the first couple of months. Or at least that's what I've convinced myself of. I forgot Dexter the other day in a moment of panic. Here's what happened.
I went to this used kids toy store to get him one of these exer-saucer thingy's. As a side bar, we have a semi-detached house in East Toronto and all of this baby shit is seriously taking up too much room, but I digress.
So I'm on the back deck cleaning this thing because it smelled like rotten cottage cheese. I had the door out to the deck open and we don't have a screen. I feel this thing whizz by me and hit the window of the door. I thought it was one of those crazy giant moths. Ever seen one of those things? They look prehistoric and what's up with the powder on their wings? I'm going to try and snort it. Anyhow, I look to see if this teradactyl like moth has flown into the house and what do I see? A freaking bird! This bird is in our living room and totally freaking out! It's flying around and hitting into the walls and the windows trying to escape. So I naturally go running out of the house screaming. I mean honestly, maybe if I lived in Avonlea I wouldn't have minded a bird flying around the living room but this is Toronto and it's a city bird with city problems and I have no desire to touch that mess. So I see my neighbors car in her driveway and knew she grew up on a farm (assuming farm people are used to catching live fowl) so I went and banged on her door. No answer. As I'm standing there waiting for her to show up I feel like I'm missing something. My cell phone? Nope, that's not it. The iPod? Nope, still not it. OH SHIT! THE BABY! Dexter was sitting in his Bumbo in the kitchen while the bird was having a spaz in the living room. Keep in mind this isn't a big house so basically Dex was in close proximity to the enemy. Shit, now I have to run back in to save the baby from what seemed like a bald eagle to my frantic imagination. I run in the house screaming,grab the baby and peek in the living room. Yup, now it's the size of a crane and it's bashing itself into the window over and over again. I run back to the neighbors front door only to realize no one is home. Eff. Am I going to have to deal with this man eating bird on my own? I spot a man two doors down doing some carpentry out on their driveway. He was a contractor renovating my neighbors house. I run up to him, baby in tow and tell him there's a bird flying around my house. Can you help? He responds, 'What kind of bird?" Holy shit! As if I know. I skipped that class on school that focused on the birds of Ontario. Unless it's been a mascot for an Ontario sports team, I'm lost. He comes into the house, goes right up to the thing (which is now seriously spazzing out) and just as easy as anything, scoops it into his hands and says to me, "It's only a sparrow". Well la-de-da Steve Irwin. I thanked him and offered him sex but he refused.
That was the first time I've forgotten I have a child but at least I didn't leave him for to long. I'm the youngest of four and when I was a baby my Mom took my older siblings to the grocery store and about 15 minutes into the drive my brother said, "Mom, where's the baby?" I was on the kitchen counter. So my Mom lit up a smoke in the car, turned around and got me. I love the 70's.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Festival and Freaks
So last time we left off with a story from Montreal from 2 weeks ago. The rest of the weekend was awesome. I have to admit, bringing Dexter (as a 4 month old) to a music festival in another province, had me a bit anxious but once we got to the venue and got all sorted out, all of my nerves went away. The music was amazing. Two days of incredible weather, company and live music was pretty much the highlight of the summer. Dexter was so cute in his big blue headphones to protect his little ears, he was like a goddamn celebrity. When Will put him in the baby bjorn to go and see Major Lazer with the guys, there were more pictures taken of Dex than of Lindsey Lohan's crotch. Hilariously, Dex fell asleep during Major Lazer. He was waaay more into Snoop Dog, probably because he's so West Coast. Anyhow, he was really good and didn't have any meltdown's until the last 2 hours of the car ride home but I was having a meltdown too. I may have spent too much time in the Holiday Inn hottub because it felt like my skin was crawling. Anyhoo, no topical diseases to speak of (this time) and the weekend was awesome. The best part about it was realizing that taking your baby or kid out of the comfort zone is always going to be ok. Even when you think it's a bit over the top, it'll always work out in the end and if you're still anxious when it's happening....drink more.
Ok, on to last week. To let you know, I do some voice work and I was lucky enough to get sent on a couple of auditions last week. Up until this point, Will had always just come with me and sat in the car with Dex because the auditions only take 15 minutes or so. Anyhow, I decided just to take him in with me and figured I would get the receptionist or someone else who was auditioning to hold him while I went in. In hindsight I probably shouldn't really leave my baby with strangers but I try to assume the best rather than the worst. So there's about 3 other women in there waiting to audition and they all go bananas over Dex because he's a baby and women are genetically bread to instantly assume their best baby voice when a baby enters the picture. Can we talk about the baby voice for a minute? We all do it and none of us realizes just how ridiculous we sound while using our baby voice because we're just caught up in the cuteness of the baby and the moment. I am going to record the way I speak to Dex just to listen to what a moron I sound like afterwards. Imagine going into a interview and introducing yourself in the voice you use to talk to you baby or niece or nephew or whatever? The same could be said for your dog voice. We just think that babies and animals need to be spoken to like someones got your balls in a vice; 3 octaves higher with a subtle hint of crazy. Anyhow, back to the audition. This one actress is really the loud one out of the group and is asking me all sorts of questions about the baby and making faces and using her baby voice which sort of sounded a bit like Liza Minelli after some Vicoden and gin. Needless to say, Dex wasn't responding to her very well. She looks up at me and says, "He's never been here before." I was a bit caught of guard and stammered, "Uhhh, no he's not. I've never brought him to an audtion before. He's definitely never been here." "No" she responds "He's never been here before." Ok. Again I say, "Yup, this is his first time at a voice audition." She shakes her head and says, "What I'm saying is he's a new soul." Ohhhhhh riggght. We were talking about reincarnation! Duhhh, how silly of me not to have first gone right to reincarnation.What a rookie conversation mistake! She's nodding her head at me like she's just figured out how to cap the oil well and I just say, "Right well ...sure." There are very few times where I'm at a loss for words but Shirley McLean here managed to stump me. Here's the thing, I think there's something to be said for reincarnation but when a wide eyed voice actress thinks she can read into your babies past lives, it's a bit funny. I didn't leave Dex with her while I auditioned.
Ok, on to last week. To let you know, I do some voice work and I was lucky enough to get sent on a couple of auditions last week. Up until this point, Will had always just come with me and sat in the car with Dex because the auditions only take 15 minutes or so. Anyhow, I decided just to take him in with me and figured I would get the receptionist or someone else who was auditioning to hold him while I went in. In hindsight I probably shouldn't really leave my baby with strangers but I try to assume the best rather than the worst. So there's about 3 other women in there waiting to audition and they all go bananas over Dex because he's a baby and women are genetically bread to instantly assume their best baby voice when a baby enters the picture. Can we talk about the baby voice for a minute? We all do it and none of us realizes just how ridiculous we sound while using our baby voice because we're just caught up in the cuteness of the baby and the moment. I am going to record the way I speak to Dex just to listen to what a moron I sound like afterwards. Imagine going into a interview and introducing yourself in the voice you use to talk to you baby or niece or nephew or whatever? The same could be said for your dog voice. We just think that babies and animals need to be spoken to like someones got your balls in a vice; 3 octaves higher with a subtle hint of crazy. Anyhow, back to the audition. This one actress is really the loud one out of the group and is asking me all sorts of questions about the baby and making faces and using her baby voice which sort of sounded a bit like Liza Minelli after some Vicoden and gin. Needless to say, Dex wasn't responding to her very well. She looks up at me and says, "He's never been here before." I was a bit caught of guard and stammered, "Uhhh, no he's not. I've never brought him to an audtion before. He's definitely never been here." "No" she responds "He's never been here before." Ok. Again I say, "Yup, this is his first time at a voice audition." She shakes her head and says, "What I'm saying is he's a new soul." Ohhhhhh riggght. We were talking about reincarnation! Duhhh, how silly of me not to have first gone right to reincarnation.What a rookie conversation mistake! She's nodding her head at me like she's just figured out how to cap the oil well and I just say, "Right well ...sure." There are very few times where I'm at a loss for words but Shirley McLean here managed to stump me. Here's the thing, I think there's something to be said for reincarnation but when a wide eyed voice actress thinks she can read into your babies past lives, it's a bit funny. I didn't leave Dex with her while I auditioned.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
ma ma ma muffin top ma ma muffin top (to the tune of Poker Face)
When I was pregnant I gained the appropriate amount of weight, about 30 pounds. You really can't avoid gaining weight, it has to happen, and anyone who thinks otherwise is probably stupid or a celebrity. Your uterus gets huge, your placenta weighs a ton and of course the baby. Anyhow, I didn't totally blimp but it does take a while to get your body back to it's pre-baby form. Not that mine was anything you would see on the cover of Shape, but it's nice when your belly starts to get back to normal and you can fit into your old jeans again. For me, things have been happening as they should. I still looked 5 months preggers for the first couple of weeks but of course everything starts shrinking back to normal. I still have a sweet carrot muffin top but when I stop breastfeeding, that should go away (for the most part) too. Here's the thing. Whoever created the term "muffin top" is an evil genius because it really is the best way to descibe that awful flab that so attractively overhangs your jeans. The old term, "Love Handles" wasn't nearly as suitable because it just wasn't true. If they were called "Hate Handles", then that would be ok but who the eff loves those handles? You can come up with any kind of cutesy phrase you want (more cushion for the pushin' etc..) but at the end of the day, having the "muffin top" sucks. So having said that, I have a confession to make: I still wear maternity jeans. Yup, I'm wearing them right now and I don't give a crap. I can get into my old jeans but my chocolate chip muffin top is gross and until it's gone, I'm just not into it. I bought 2 pair of maternity skinny jeans from H&M when I was pregnant. They were 60 bucks each and I"m getting my monies worth and that's that. For those who aren't familiar with the maternity jean, these ones sit at my hips and there's a tight cloth band attached to the waist, about 3 inches in height, that pulls up over your belly. For post baby it's great because it eliminated muffin top and sucks you in a bit. These jeans should just hit the mainstream. Let's all just be a bit honest with ourselves here. No one is 16 anymore and things happen to your body post 29 (male and female). I'm not saying we're old and gross after 30, just simply that things change and low rise jeans are less sexy and more of a landing pad for that bit of pooch you've developed from 11 years of drinking. Anyhow, good on those ladies who somehow avoided the muffin top post-birth. Nice genetics. I figure I'm 3/4's of the way back to pre-birth bod but to be honest, I kind of don't care. Is that bad? I mean, I like to exercise and stay active but I also like red wine and blue cheese so if I have to choose between washboard stomach and food, the fromage wins.
On to other things. We just got back from Osheaga music festival in Montreal. We went with a bunch of friends and of course Dexter who has just turned 4 months. He's so mature.
We drove to Montreal and it was a pretty easy drive for the most part. We got to town at about 8.30 Friday night and went out for dinner in Old Montreal while Dexter slept in his buggy. On our way back to the hotel, two of the guys had to pee so they ducked off while my friend Ryan and Sue and I waited on the street. We were in what appeared to be the Regent Park of Montreal with some sketchy charcters lurking around. Anyhow, out of nowhere this short potato of a woman comes right up to me doing the crack dance. You know that dance? It's kind of like the hokey pokey but more jitty because you're high on crack. She had a baseball hat on backwards and a black t-shirt that said in bold white letters, "Fuck You You Fucking Fuck". She was a real peach. She cracks her way right up to me and says in her thick with crack voice, "Can I hold your baby? I'm just really mad and if I can hold your baby that would make me feel so much better." I replied, "Of course you can! I've never wanted anything more for my baby then to be cuddled by a person who just , moments early, had been honking on the crack pipe! Please, be sure to kiss him lots, especially on the mouth!" As if. What I really said was , "NO!" really loudly. If I had adamantean claws they would have come out. Ryan just sort of chuckled because the whole thing was just a bit too ridiculous. I wasn't scared of this crackie, I've lived in big cities long enough to have become desensitized to their unpredictable ways but I didn't want her anywhere near me or my baby so I just started to move away. She says, "It's just that I don't think I can have kids so I would just like to hold yours." Big surprise, I wonder whose fault that it? I again repeat loudly "No!". I must have really been paying attention in highschool during the No Means No assembly because although I'm pretty chatty most times, this was the only word I could come out with. She moved along and I relaxed. There was a second there I thought I would either have to fight off a crack head or just run for my life because there was no way this lunatic was getting one step closer. What's the lesson here? Know your crack areas in new cities and just avoid them, especially if you have your baby in tow. The rest of the weekend was awesome, we went to Oshega Music Festival and got back yesterday. More on that later this week! I'm moving my blog to Wordpress because it's better so I'm sure you'll all lose sleep in anticipation.
On to other things. We just got back from Osheaga music festival in Montreal. We went with a bunch of friends and of course Dexter who has just turned 4 months. He's so mature.
We drove to Montreal and it was a pretty easy drive for the most part. We got to town at about 8.30 Friday night and went out for dinner in Old Montreal while Dexter slept in his buggy. On our way back to the hotel, two of the guys had to pee so they ducked off while my friend Ryan and Sue and I waited on the street. We were in what appeared to be the Regent Park of Montreal with some sketchy charcters lurking around. Anyhow, out of nowhere this short potato of a woman comes right up to me doing the crack dance. You know that dance? It's kind of like the hokey pokey but more jitty because you're high on crack. She had a baseball hat on backwards and a black t-shirt that said in bold white letters, "Fuck You You Fucking Fuck". She was a real peach. She cracks her way right up to me and says in her thick with crack voice, "Can I hold your baby? I'm just really mad and if I can hold your baby that would make me feel so much better." I replied, "Of course you can! I've never wanted anything more for my baby then to be cuddled by a person who just , moments early, had been honking on the crack pipe! Please, be sure to kiss him lots, especially on the mouth!" As if. What I really said was , "NO!" really loudly. If I had adamantean claws they would have come out. Ryan just sort of chuckled because the whole thing was just a bit too ridiculous. I wasn't scared of this crackie, I've lived in big cities long enough to have become desensitized to their unpredictable ways but I didn't want her anywhere near me or my baby so I just started to move away. She says, "It's just that I don't think I can have kids so I would just like to hold yours." Big surprise, I wonder whose fault that it? I again repeat loudly "No!". I must have really been paying attention in highschool during the No Means No assembly because although I'm pretty chatty most times, this was the only word I could come out with. She moved along and I relaxed. There was a second there I thought I would either have to fight off a crack head or just run for my life because there was no way this lunatic was getting one step closer. What's the lesson here? Know your crack areas in new cities and just avoid them, especially if you have your baby in tow. The rest of the weekend was awesome, we went to Oshega Music Festival and got back yesterday. More on that later this week! I'm moving my blog to Wordpress because it's better so I'm sure you'll all lose sleep in anticipation.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I Brought Beer to a Mommy Group
Dexter is 4 months old today! To celebrate, we're going to go to Zanzibar so he can look at some boobs. He's SUPER into boobs. Anyhow, I went to a Mommy group the other day. Here's the thing, I'm not really a Mommy group kind of a girl and I didn't really know that I was going to a Mommy group. My friend asked if I wanted to go for lunch at Monarch Park with her and her little 9 month old. It was a beautiful Friday so of course I said, "Yes". Here's the thing, my friend is great at organizing get togethers and bringing people together so maybe I should have suspected it was a Mommy group but I didn't. My friend is also not opposed to having a beer so the obvious choice of refreshments on a gorgeous Friday was obviously Sleemans's Original Draft. As I'm approaching this gaggle of babies and buggies I think, "Oh shit, should I break out the beers?" See I would like to be the kind of person who says, "I don't care what anyone thinks of me" but I do, (to a certain extent) and I immediately felt like the skid of the group for bringing beers. I noticed a lot of vitamin water and fruit as I sat down. Well I got over it pretty fast because it was EFFING HAWT and I was salivating for beer so I busted it out of diaper bag and said, "Well, it's noon so nothing wrong with drinking in a public park eh ladies?" My friend was all for it so I didn't feel totally alone in my love of the hops. Needless to say, I did get a funny look or two but that might be because I was talking about masturbation as well. You can take the girl out of East York but you can't take the East York out of the girl! It was a fun get together and I may just bring a two-four next time. I mean what cop or by-law officer is going to bust a group of Mommies for drinking in the park? If they do, we'll shoot them with our lactating guns, execution style.
Mat leave is seriously the best. My first job was at 13 at Tim Hortons and I haven't really stopped working since (with the exception of that time I was fired.....wooops!) and it's been beyond amazing having time off, not only to raise my baby but to just slow down and enjoy the city and the summer. I met Will for lunch the other day and decided just to walk around Yorkville with the baby, to see how the other half live. Yorkville is a pretty weird place, it's like walking through the Wardrobe. One minute you're just at Yonge and Bloor and the next minute you're in a mini Beverley Hills. BTW, doesn't Beverley Hills make you think of a lezbians boobs? "Hey, check out Beverley's Hills. Sweet rack on Bev eh?"
So I'm pushing the baby buggy and staring at all the interesting people with plastic surgery faces; I'm most likely slack-jawed. I should have been paying attention to where I was going because as I'm passing this super shi-shi patio of ladies lunching I run right into the effing parking meter. Of course that causes me to yelp and now all of the Tori Spelling look-a-likes are staring at me as I"m trying to to pretend that I've not just winded myself and ran my baby buggy into a stationary object. Dexter was laughing, most likely at me and I just laughed really awkwardly and loudly, like I had meant to do it, and just kept walking. I already didn't fit into Yorkville because my sunglasses are from Zellers but that definitely made me the Yorkville leper.
I must remember to take the empty beer bottle out of the bottom of the buggy. I've got to go to this church to look into the baby getting baptized. We'll discuss more about the baptizing of the baby in the next blog. Here's a preview: I can't believe I'm getting the baby baptized.
Mat leave is seriously the best. My first job was at 13 at Tim Hortons and I haven't really stopped working since (with the exception of that time I was fired.....wooops!) and it's been beyond amazing having time off, not only to raise my baby but to just slow down and enjoy the city and the summer. I met Will for lunch the other day and decided just to walk around Yorkville with the baby, to see how the other half live. Yorkville is a pretty weird place, it's like walking through the Wardrobe. One minute you're just at Yonge and Bloor and the next minute you're in a mini Beverley Hills. BTW, doesn't Beverley Hills make you think of a lezbians boobs? "Hey, check out Beverley's Hills. Sweet rack on Bev eh?"
So I'm pushing the baby buggy and staring at all the interesting people with plastic surgery faces; I'm most likely slack-jawed. I should have been paying attention to where I was going because as I'm passing this super shi-shi patio of ladies lunching I run right into the effing parking meter. Of course that causes me to yelp and now all of the Tori Spelling look-a-likes are staring at me as I"m trying to to pretend that I've not just winded myself and ran my baby buggy into a stationary object. Dexter was laughing, most likely at me and I just laughed really awkwardly and loudly, like I had meant to do it, and just kept walking. I already didn't fit into Yorkville because my sunglasses are from Zellers but that definitely made me the Yorkville leper.
I must remember to take the empty beer bottle out of the bottom of the buggy. I've got to go to this church to look into the baby getting baptized. We'll discuss more about the baptizing of the baby in the next blog. Here's a preview: I can't believe I'm getting the baby baptized.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Rainbow baby
First of all, I forgot to get Dex his 2 month shots. WOOPS! I got them the other week but I must have forgotten to check the handbook that came out of me right after the placenta. Ummm, shouldn't my busted ass doctor be informing me of these things? Here's the thing, my doctor is ok. She's super young, bright and has passable hygiene(This is important to me because one time in England I honestly once went to a doctor who looked homeless) What I'm saying is, she's good on paper but as a family doctor she's cold, kind of weird and I think slightly judgemental. I made the mistake of telling her that Dex sleeps on his stomach and she was super pissed at me. I responded with , "It's ok, don't worry about it, it's how he sleeps so that's all there is to it." She was carrying on about "Studies show that..." blah blah blah but the problem is, she has yet to have any children so she's all text book and no experience. Of course the same could be said for anything, I mean you don't need to have herpes to know how to treat it. Everyone knows you're supposed to put yogurt on them. Anyhow, when I was suffering from the nip blisters I went to another doctor in the office and she was THE BEST! So warm and kind and really easy to talk to. She's also a mother and had tons of real life advice for me. So, how do you dump your doctor for another when they're in the same practice? Maybe I"ll use that whole, "It's not you, it's me" thingy. I"ll tell her I'm having impure thoughts about her and don't think it's ethical that she gives me paps. I dunno, it's a problem.
Needless to say, I CAN'T forget his 4 month shots so someone remind me when it's the 20th of July ok?
Speaking of summer, Will and I brought Dex to Gay Pride here in Toronto. We made him this super cute onesie that says: "I Love My Gay Uncles" and brought him into his first ever beer tent. They grow up so fast! Anyhow, at first I was a bit apprehensive thinking, "should I really be bringing my 3 1/2 month old baby to a beer tent at Pride?" but then that thought passed as I looked around and saw so many people having such a good time, loving one another no matter gender, race or religion. If there's ever a beer tent to bring your baby to, the one's at Pride are it. Anyhow, Dex drools like a camel these days so instead of putting a demeaning bib around his neck, we've been putting little kerchiefs on him. Bibs are lame and for total babies. I get Dex and the stroller into the tent and by brother-in-law Brad says, "Nice kerchief Lar, you know what that means don't you?" Suprisingly, I didn't. He then informs me that in the gay culture, some may look at a red kercheif around the neck as a symbol. A symbol of what, you may ask? Get ready for it....here is comes....FISTING! Yup, we looked it up on Brads Blackberry and apparantly a red kerchief to the right means you're a fister and one to the left means you're the fistee. Dex's was to the right (thank God!). Now I don't know many gay men that subscribe to this theory but apparantly it's a thing. So I've got a fister bib on my baby at a beer tent at Pride. No harm done though, I mean you should have seen the numbers he got! Total stud. So we hung out for about an hour and then took off. The music was so loud I was actually afraid that Dex's hearing would be damaged and I would have to tell the hearing specialist it was because we were too close to the drag queen singing Gloria Gayner's "I Will Survive". Speaking of hearing, I just ordered Dexter these little baby headphone earmuffs because we're going to Osheaga in a couple of weeks. That's this music festival in Montreal. Now I"m not telling you this because I'm some super cool hipster that brings her babies to music festivals, quite frankly this is a bit of a selfish move because Will and I really want to go to this festival and we have a baby so he's coming along.Total buzz kill. HA! Just joking obviously. We'll see how it goes, it's definitly going to be a different experience from most music festivals I've been to in the past and not exactly relaxing but what the hell. Might as well give it a shot. I'll just have to do my best to try and not flash Snoop Dogg when he's on stage. Anyhow these mofo headphones better get here on time otherwise I'll be stressed out. Until next time.
Larissa Primeau
M.O.Y (mother of the year)
Needless to say, I CAN'T forget his 4 month shots so someone remind me when it's the 20th of July ok?
Speaking of summer, Will and I brought Dex to Gay Pride here in Toronto. We made him this super cute onesie that says: "I Love My Gay Uncles" and brought him into his first ever beer tent. They grow up so fast! Anyhow, at first I was a bit apprehensive thinking, "should I really be bringing my 3 1/2 month old baby to a beer tent at Pride?" but then that thought passed as I looked around and saw so many people having such a good time, loving one another no matter gender, race or religion. If there's ever a beer tent to bring your baby to, the one's at Pride are it. Anyhow, Dex drools like a camel these days so instead of putting a demeaning bib around his neck, we've been putting little kerchiefs on him. Bibs are lame and for total babies. I get Dex and the stroller into the tent and by brother-in-law Brad says, "Nice kerchief Lar, you know what that means don't you?" Suprisingly, I didn't. He then informs me that in the gay culture, some may look at a red kercheif around the neck as a symbol. A symbol of what, you may ask? Get ready for it....here is comes....FISTING! Yup, we looked it up on Brads Blackberry and apparantly a red kerchief to the right means you're a fister and one to the left means you're the fistee. Dex's was to the right (thank God!). Now I don't know many gay men that subscribe to this theory but apparantly it's a thing. So I've got a fister bib on my baby at a beer tent at Pride. No harm done though, I mean you should have seen the numbers he got! Total stud. So we hung out for about an hour and then took off. The music was so loud I was actually afraid that Dex's hearing would be damaged and I would have to tell the hearing specialist it was because we were too close to the drag queen singing Gloria Gayner's "I Will Survive". Speaking of hearing, I just ordered Dexter these little baby headphone earmuffs because we're going to Osheaga in a couple of weeks. That's this music festival in Montreal. Now I"m not telling you this because I'm some super cool hipster that brings her babies to music festivals, quite frankly this is a bit of a selfish move because Will and I really want to go to this festival and we have a baby so he's coming along.Total buzz kill. HA! Just joking obviously. We'll see how it goes, it's definitly going to be a different experience from most music festivals I've been to in the past and not exactly relaxing but what the hell. Might as well give it a shot. I'll just have to do my best to try and not flash Snoop Dogg when he's on stage. Anyhow these mofo headphones better get here on time otherwise I'll be stressed out. Until next time.
Larissa Primeau
M.O.Y (mother of the year)
Monday, June 28, 2010
Strangers in the Night...
Bonjour,
I'm evidently not the most dedicated blogger as it's been yonkers since I've posted my last blog. To let you know what I've been up to:
I played at the World Cup
Slept with Jon Gosslin (again)
Threw some poop in American Apparel at the G20 and snorted some volcanic ash. Anyhoo, I'm back and I've got a boeuf. Yup a bouef. Dexter is now 3 months and is cute as anything, really becoming a little hilarious baby. Of course, like any hilarious little babies, he has not- so-hilarious, meltdowns. The other day I was in Shoppers Drug Mart and one such meltdown occured. I knew why, it was time for him to eat but I was forcing him to stay out because I had shit to do. Anyhow, he's SCREAMING like I was poking him with a hot iron rod (which is how I got pregnant in the first place. HII OHHHHH) and of course everyone is staring and giving me those "oh poor you looks" when to be honest, I don't really care if he's screaming. I mean, he's a baby and it happens and there's no need for sympathy or empathy or apathy or anything ending in thy. Needless to say, a woman in front of me turns to me and says , "Oh dear, I really think he's hungry." REALLY? You don't fucking say. Thanks for that profound parenting tip stranger with dry genitals (she was buying Vagisil, for real). So I race out of the Shoppers because I'm afraid my inner thoughts might become outer soon and I don't need another public confrontation with a stranger again(please refer to my real life story about a swearing match I had with an Angela Lansbury look-a-like at Compuserve, posted on Facebook).
I get home and take him to the Breast-aurant and all is good.
The next day I go to Sobey's (because my life is about baby and chores at the moment) and this super weird cashier, who I try to avoid when I need to by groceries, starts cooing and talking to Dex. To give you an idea of how weird Toula is (that's her name) she sort of looks like a cross between an old Angelica Houston and a bearded dragon, in other words, very amphibious. On top of that, she has possibly the worst bangs I've ever seen. I wouldn't be so mean about her looks if she wasn't such a douche baguette. I've seen her get annoyed with bag boys, she got pissed at another cashier for borrowing her pen and she even told me to hurry up when I was packing my groceries. So there's Angelica Lizard talking to my baby. She asks me what his name is, I tell her "Dexter". "Oh" she replies, "my friend has a dog named Dexter. That's a dogs name." "Right, I guess so", I respond........."Toula". Like what the eff kind of a name is Toula anyhow but that's besides the point. Am I wrong to think it's rude for a stranger to tell you that your child has a dogs name? I know there's lots of animals with dogs names like Max, or Bailey or Mr.BoJangles but it's just not polite to tell a stranger that their baby has a dogs name. Maybe that stupid dog has a baby's name, has she ever thought of that? Anyhow, my bouef is with strangers who mess with you and your baby. Either tell me how cute he is or eff off. So that's my bouef for the moment. Other than that, things are good. I love summer and Mat leave. Stay tuned for more amazing blog posts brought to you my an amazing woman.
I'm evidently not the most dedicated blogger as it's been yonkers since I've posted my last blog. To let you know what I've been up to:
I played at the World Cup
Slept with Jon Gosslin (again)
Threw some poop in American Apparel at the G20 and snorted some volcanic ash. Anyhoo, I'm back and I've got a boeuf. Yup a bouef. Dexter is now 3 months and is cute as anything, really becoming a little hilarious baby. Of course, like any hilarious little babies, he has not- so-hilarious, meltdowns. The other day I was in Shoppers Drug Mart and one such meltdown occured. I knew why, it was time for him to eat but I was forcing him to stay out because I had shit to do. Anyhow, he's SCREAMING like I was poking him with a hot iron rod (which is how I got pregnant in the first place. HII OHHHHH) and of course everyone is staring and giving me those "oh poor you looks" when to be honest, I don't really care if he's screaming. I mean, he's a baby and it happens and there's no need for sympathy or empathy or apathy or anything ending in thy. Needless to say, a woman in front of me turns to me and says , "Oh dear, I really think he's hungry." REALLY? You don't fucking say. Thanks for that profound parenting tip stranger with dry genitals (she was buying Vagisil, for real). So I race out of the Shoppers because I'm afraid my inner thoughts might become outer soon and I don't need another public confrontation with a stranger again(please refer to my real life story about a swearing match I had with an Angela Lansbury look-a-like at Compuserve, posted on Facebook).
I get home and take him to the Breast-aurant and all is good.
The next day I go to Sobey's (because my life is about baby and chores at the moment) and this super weird cashier, who I try to avoid when I need to by groceries, starts cooing and talking to Dex. To give you an idea of how weird Toula is (that's her name) she sort of looks like a cross between an old Angelica Houston and a bearded dragon, in other words, very amphibious. On top of that, she has possibly the worst bangs I've ever seen. I wouldn't be so mean about her looks if she wasn't such a douche baguette. I've seen her get annoyed with bag boys, she got pissed at another cashier for borrowing her pen and she even told me to hurry up when I was packing my groceries. So there's Angelica Lizard talking to my baby. She asks me what his name is, I tell her "Dexter". "Oh" she replies, "my friend has a dog named Dexter. That's a dogs name." "Right, I guess so", I respond........."Toula". Like what the eff kind of a name is Toula anyhow but that's besides the point. Am I wrong to think it's rude for a stranger to tell you that your child has a dogs name? I know there's lots of animals with dogs names like Max, or Bailey or Mr.BoJangles but it's just not polite to tell a stranger that their baby has a dogs name. Maybe that stupid dog has a baby's name, has she ever thought of that? Anyhow, my bouef is with strangers who mess with you and your baby. Either tell me how cute he is or eff off. So that's my bouef for the moment. Other than that, things are good. I love summer and Mat leave. Stay tuned for more amazing blog posts brought to you my an amazing woman.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Flashdance
I have a mini-hangover. I probably shouldn't, since I"m breastfeeding but I honestly didn't think a pint and a half was going to get me drunk! I mean, I have french-canadian heritage and it's not like I'm morman, I've been drinking for a while. Anyhow, I've let my people down because I managed to get partially wasted last night at a patio, on a pint and a half. I met Will after work with the baby and we brought him to his first patio. Not Will....the baby, I can't figure out if that's totally irresponsible and white trash or avant-guarde and European. I don't really care, Momma just needed to get her drink on.
Needless to say, I'm up at the anus of dawn (that comes before the crack) to parent Dexter and my head is banging. Welcome back old friend hangover. It's been a long time buddy.
So anyhow, I've left Dexter in the capable hands of the cats, so who says drinking and parenting don't mix?
It's actually amazing how the minute you have a kid, something that wouldn't have really phased you that much prior to parenthood, now really gets under your skin. Let me tell you a story.
Last week I went to Tim Hortons at Main and Danforth (at 9am), here in the beautiful burrow of East York, Toronto. Now our neighborhood isn't the complete ghetto, but there are some real dirtbags circling around: like a bunch of seaguls over roadkill. Normally I take no notice of said dirtbags but something compelled me to glance to my left, as I pushed the buggy out of Tim Horton's and down the road. What did I see? One of East York's finest, taking a pee, in a planter put there by the city to house beautiful flower arrangements. Ok, if I saw this particular rastifarian at 2am peeing in the planter, I probably wouldn't have thought much of it, but it was 9am and I had to look at his GIANT clanger while he relieved himself. Gross. It just seemed even worse because I was pushing a baby. Well my immediate reaction was to just yell at him. I spat out, "Awww, you're disgusting!" I probably shouldn't have done that because then he flashed me a toothless grin and started to shake it at me! As if. I immediately decided that I was not going to raise my beautiful baby around such grossness and went home and went on MLS to look for a different house. I called WIll and told him we were moving. He laughed and told me to calm down. The funny thing is, this is the second time in about 14 months that a man has shown me his schlonger. A guy came out of the alleyway behind the subway station last year and had his dink out of his pants and shook it at me. Honestly, I never got so much dick in my life until I moved to East York. Needless to say I've since calmed down and decided not to move but if I see one more penis (that I haven't paid to see) we're outta here.
I have to go and eat bacon now and drink diet coke. It's the only cure.
Needless to say, I'm up at the anus of dawn (that comes before the crack) to parent Dexter and my head is banging. Welcome back old friend hangover. It's been a long time buddy.
So anyhow, I've left Dexter in the capable hands of the cats, so who says drinking and parenting don't mix?
It's actually amazing how the minute you have a kid, something that wouldn't have really phased you that much prior to parenthood, now really gets under your skin. Let me tell you a story.
Last week I went to Tim Hortons at Main and Danforth (at 9am), here in the beautiful burrow of East York, Toronto. Now our neighborhood isn't the complete ghetto, but there are some real dirtbags circling around: like a bunch of seaguls over roadkill. Normally I take no notice of said dirtbags but something compelled me to glance to my left, as I pushed the buggy out of Tim Horton's and down the road. What did I see? One of East York's finest, taking a pee, in a planter put there by the city to house beautiful flower arrangements. Ok, if I saw this particular rastifarian at 2am peeing in the planter, I probably wouldn't have thought much of it, but it was 9am and I had to look at his GIANT clanger while he relieved himself. Gross. It just seemed even worse because I was pushing a baby. Well my immediate reaction was to just yell at him. I spat out, "Awww, you're disgusting!" I probably shouldn't have done that because then he flashed me a toothless grin and started to shake it at me! As if. I immediately decided that I was not going to raise my beautiful baby around such grossness and went home and went on MLS to look for a different house. I called WIll and told him we were moving. He laughed and told me to calm down. The funny thing is, this is the second time in about 14 months that a man has shown me his schlonger. A guy came out of the alleyway behind the subway station last year and had his dink out of his pants and shook it at me. Honestly, I never got so much dick in my life until I moved to East York. Needless to say I've since calmed down and decided not to move but if I see one more penis (that I haven't paid to see) we're outta here.
I have to go and eat bacon now and drink diet coke. It's the only cure.
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