Can someone else do this please?

Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been 22 years since my last confession. Oh woops! I thought this was my sinning blog. I like to keep a blog of my sins, then confess them to the Internet. It's less creepy than a priest.

Anyhow, Dexter Jean-Claude Macky is no longer a tiny little baby. He is nearly a year a half (or will be in about 2 months) and he is running around like a lunatic. It is the cutest thing ever to see him walking, with his hands in the air, and his center of gravity high on LSD. It looks hilarious. I always say this but honestly, his cute levels are through the roof. Except for yesterday morning. I went into his bedroom at a little after 7am, because I could hear him whining to get up. I go into the room, smile and say good morning, but something isn't right. What's that smell? Has there been another garbage strike? Did someone just do an egg salad burp? Have we been bombed with Agent Orange? Nope, Dex has done a colossal turd and it is everywhere. He slept in just a onesie because it was ridiculously hot. The poop had seeped out of his diaper, on to his legs, into his hand, and all over his face and his crib. It was a goddamn Poo-nami. It was Poomaggedon. Just as I realize what's happened I see him go to put some in his mouth. "NOOOOOOOOO!" I yell as I dive in slo-mo, "It's not a shit biscuit!" He tastes it and, quite obviously, starts spitting and makes the most hilarious/disgusted face of all time. He ate his own shit. I figure it's a tough lesson to learn but I'm glad he learned it early. You don't want to be learning that lesson your second year of University or anything.
Anyhow, I had to get Will in for backup because I couldn't handle the mountain of turd that surrounded me.
In other news, we went to NYC for the long weekend, which was the best. It was the longest we had left the baby, and let me tell you, it was awesome. I felt anxious before we left, because I knew I would miss him and would he be ok, and all of that. But then, when Will and I are sipping cocktails at 2:30 in the afternoon at some cool bar we're not cool enough to be at, any and all anxiety I had went out the door. Here's the thing. Getting away from work is THE BEST. Waking up when you want to, not answering emails, not dealing with your weird co-workers; it's all well deserved. When you have a toddler, that feeling of freedom is times 10,000. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to see him when the weekend was done, but I didn't pine for him, let me just put it that way. If you're a Mom and you don't think you can be away from your kid for more than a night or whatever, I'm here to tell you that you can, and you'll love it. Although I don't know too many Moms who seem to have a problem with that.
We saw Joey Fatone in New York, I know you're jealous. Will thought it was Lance Bass and when we walked by him said, "HA! It's Lance Bass." Hilarious.
I'm sweating my armpits off right now so I have to go. Until next time.

What did you say?

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

It's been a while

I am not the best blogger in the world, this I can admit. I think this might be the first one this month. Don't judge, I've been busy. I got married and became the Duchess of Cambridge. I just had my last show after 25 years of talk show magic and I've been trying to come up with more ways to make myself sound like a giant idiot by going about trying to disprove Barack Obamas citizenship. I've been busy. Needless to say, chasing around a toddler may be as exhausting as having a newborn suckle on your teat. Dexter is hobbling around like I do on a Friday night after a bottle of $7.50 Fuzion. He's so cute it's hilarious but at the same time, he's definitely figuring out how to push the old buttons. It's so interesting to see his little mind work. What blows my mind is how much and how well I know this little person. What's really scary is that my Mom knows my mind this well. God help her. She must lose sleep at night knowing what goes on in this warped mass of brain matter.

I'm still working on my business while mothering while scanning for other jobs. It's pretty busy but what the hell. If I didn't have this taking up my time I would probably just be scanning the internet for porn. I'm still taking Dex to baby swimming lessons on Monday mornings. I think I'm the baby swimming lesson pariah. Here's the thing; I'm a talker. When I'm in the pool with a bunch of babies and adults, I'm going to chat to the adults. Let's just be honest here for a second. The babies are cute and everything but after about 10 minutes in the pool with them, it sort of gets boring. How many times can you sing "The Wheels on the Bus" until you want to shoot yourself in the face? I can tell you. Once. You will sing that song once and then you're over it. So, I spend the other 20 minutes of the lesson bopping Dex in and out of the water while I chat to the other Mom's and Dad's. At first I think they were a little bit weirded out by me and I can't blame them. They're probably thinking, "Um, how does a professional fitness model get Monday's off?"
The Filipino nannies have been the chattiest, and I appreciate it. After swimming, myself and two of the nannies go to Tim Hortons where I drink too much coffee and pretend to know what they're talking about. One of the nannies asked me who I was nannying for. I said, "I'm not his nanny". Maybe my disinterest in baby swimming lessons made them think that there's no way I'm the Mom.
So one of the Dad's in baby swimming lessons has started to warm up to me. We'll chat and laugh and we share weekend stories. I'm 90% sure he's gay but I'm sure people say that about me too so I try not to jump to conclusions. Anyhow, I hadn't noticed up until recently, but he has a nipple ring. It's not as if I haven't seen nipple rings before. The 90's were a real boom for piercers and nipple piercing was the norm. I didn't go for the nipple but like a lot of idiots in their 20's I thought it was an AMAZING idea to get my eyebrow pierced. Lesson number one in making yourself more unattractive: Pierce your eyebrow. So I'm chatting to the nipple pierced Daddy in the pool and for some stupid reason I couldn't stop looking at his nipple ring. We're talking and I KNOW my eyes are bobbing up and down from his face to his nipple. I know he knows I'm looking at it, but I couldn't stop! 'What the hell is the matter with you Larissa?' I internally scream at myself, 'Stop looking at his freaking nipple!' but I couldn't. It was like I was in a nipple trance. I was being hypnotized by his nipple and it started to get uncomfortable. Now I was staring at the spot directly above his nose so that I would stop staring at his nipple, but I felt that was super obvious too. I started to sweat, even though I was in a pool. He then looked down at his own nipple. 'Oh shit. He's onto me'. Yup, he was. He took his baby girl and waded over to the Filipino nannies. 'Oh God', I think, 'Don't tell my nannies! I need them.' They started talking and I swear one of them gave me the sideways scorn. Anyhow, class ended and I got the hell out of there. I didn't even bother to stick around afterwards to pee in the pool. I like to leave my scent.
I've been to baby swimming lessons since and he's not been there. I hope I didn't scare him off with my staring problem. I'll let you know if he ever returns. My relationship with the Filipino nannies seems to have survived the incident. We're still just smiling and laughing at one another even though I'm pretty sure neither of us understand the other.
Maybe to smooth things over , I'll re-pierce my eyebrow so that he knows he wasn't the only one in the 90's who got sucked in.

Math nurd

When I send an email from my Blackberry it does a spell check before I actually send the email. Most of the time this is a good thing but whenever I write our sons name as Dex, it auto corrects it to "Sex". Do you know how many emails I've sent where I refer to how cute our little Sex is? "Oh, you should see Sex these days. Sex is nearly walking and Sex is chatting up a storm!" The best was when I sent an email to an old friend and signed off with, "Gotta go, Sex just took the biggest shit and I'm about to be elbow deep in it."
I really have to figure out how to fix that.
In other news, Dexter is 1 year and 1 month old. Yup, that's how I'm saying it. Here's the thing, everyone speaks in months, after their kid is a year old. "Oh, she's 17 months", someone will tell you. Well guess what? I was never particularly good at math and making me sit there and figure out 17 minus 12 is annoying. I don't even know my 12 times tables! Seriously I don't. I had measles that week and I honestly missed the time when we learned them and unless it's 12 times 12, I don't have an effing clue. I think we all need to agree to speak in years and months, after the babies are a year old, d'accord? I'll start the trend. Right now I'm just saying, "He's a little over a year." I'll continue to do that until he's a year and 5 months, and then I'll say, "He's a year and five months." I also feel the same way about the 24 hour clock. Please don't tell me it's 19:00. I am not British and it's not the 18th century.
A while back I wrote about a crazy week but I never got around to talking about the 2nd crazy thing that had happened to me. Spring fever is in the air in East York and I think the fever has turned scarlet because people are slightly more crazy than before. So I was heading to the pharmacy to get my prescription (by pharmacy I mean the LCBO and by prescription I mean red wine). So I'm heading down the Danforth when about half a block away I see, what appears to be a very old woman, collapsing into a young woman. There was another older lady looking on. I was pushing Sex in his stroller and started running, to see if I could help. I was right. The woman couldn't really stand up, she looked to be about 85, she was super hunched over and it was as if her legs were simply giving out on her. The girl that was helping was about 20 and was not doing a very good job holding her up. I said frantically, "Can I call you an ambulance? Are you having a stroke?" As if she could actually answer. So the old lady responds very calmly and clearly, "No, I'm fine,I just need to sit down. I know they have chairs in there, I just need some help to get there." She points to a community centre, the door to it just around the corner. The other older lady was standing there and said to me, "Don't worry, I'll watch the baby, you just help." Now I generally expect the best from people but for a split second, I thought I might be in some crazy granny kidnapping ring. Totally irrational, yes, but I smelled stranger danger and it smelt like old mothballs. Anyhow, I said, "Ok, just follow right behind us." My adrenaline was pumping and the 20 year old was useless so I literally put this old bird over my shoulder and proceeded to carry her to the centre. Remember I mentioned earlier that she was super hunched? So even stooped, she was slightly taller than me. I'm a leggy 5 ft 3 inches so if she could fully stand up, the old bird was probably about 6ft 2inches. She was one tall fossil. What I'm trying to get at here was that she wasn't a petite waif of a Granny. Baby had back...which was hunched, and full of what I thought was lead. Anyhow, as I'm carrying this woman, keeping an eye on my baby that another old lady is pushing beside me, I catch a whiff. A whiff of what? Oh, I would say it was a bit of vodka, maybe some whiskey with a beer chaser to get it all down. She was totally drunk. I was carrying an 85 year old waste case to the community centre. At first I thought, "Holy shit lady, it's Tuesday at 2pm and you're 85!" But honestly, I can't judge. I've been a total waste case at 2pm on a Tuesday afternoon so who the hell am I? Maybe when I'm 85 with nothing to do, I'll throw back some Jaggerbombs in between bridge and naps. Why the hell not? I figure if you make it to 85 you can do whatever the hell you want. Honestly, I might even try heroin if I make it to 85. Needless to say, we got to the community centre and as luck would have it, there was a doctor on site! I pretty much dumped her there, told them what had happened and left. She was in good hands. So there you go. Never assume an old person in distress isn't just having the best trip of their life.
Until next time.

Spring Fever

Dex had his first fever a couple of weeks ago. I would like to tell you that I calmly handled it and did everything right but I did nothing of the sort. I was using an electronic themometer that I put in his ear. The reading seemed pretty high and I had heard, from a friend, that if you take their temp up their butt you get a more accurate reading. Well, in my haste I just went and tried to put the ear themometer in his butt. Doesn't work like that. Lesson number one in taking a baby's temperature: Don't try to use your ear themomater up their butt. I felt kind of weird trying to put something up his butt anyhow. I mean, if he wants to do that stuff when he's a consenting adult, more power to him, but for now I'm sticking to the ear reading. I thought I would have been a bit cooler when he got a fever but I have to tell you, I was slightly hysterical. The problem is I read the newspaper everyday and I pretty much assume that whatever has happened to everyone else, is going to happen to me. I've been a wreck with the whole Omar Khadr debacle. It could happen to me, you never know.
I think we`re led to believe that when we become Mothers, suddenly we`re bestowed with this amazing ability to know what to do in ever situation that requires mothering. I think I have clearly disproved this theory time and time again. Secondly, I am not a nurse or doctor and have no medical instincts. Here are instincts that I have:
a) if a dog is chasing me, I instinctively run.
b) If I'm talking to a member of the opposite sex in a suggestive manor I instinctively make sure he's over 18. I won't make THAT mistake again.
c) If I take a sip of a beer bottle that has cigarette butts in it, I instinctively spit them out.

These are a few of my natural instincts. Knowing what to do when my baby has a temperature over 100 degrees is not an instinct that I had developed, at that point. Now that's it over with, I'll know what to do next time but don't feel bad if you're a lunatic when your baby has their first fever. At least you didn't sodomize them with an ear themometer.

So a few strange things have happened to me this week. There is something in the air in East York and whatever it is, it's laced with crazy.
I went into Tim Hortons after swimming lessons on Monday. The lessons are for Dexter. I am a world class swimmer as you probably can tell from my broad, strong shoulders. The woman who walked in before me didn't bother holding the door for me and it came crashing into the baby buggy. In her defense, she had a newborn strapped to her so who knows if she had even slept in the last 48 hours. This beast of a woman behind me yells."What the hell! She could have opened the door for you! Like you don't have your hands full or something."
"Yes" I reply as she holds the door for me, "she must just be lost in thought or something."
"Ya right" beast replies, "you need to look out for one another."
"Sure", I respond doing my best not to encourage her.
Now we're fully in line at the Tim Hortons and her voice is getting increasingly louder with every word. Did I mention that she had an INSANE mop of wild gray hair and her eyes were a freaky yellow colour? On anyone else, they would have looked amazing but on her they just screamed perscription-meds-overdose-waiting-to-happen.
I thought she was done but oh no.
"I mean especially as WOMEN. We need to look out for each other AS WOMEN."
As she's saying this, she's inching closer to me, but looking over my head at the girl in front of me, who is the one to whom she is directing this whole exchange. She turns around. She is a sweet looking girl with a tiny baby strapped to her that doesn't have a clue what's going on. Crazy looks at her and says, "You've got to watch out for each other. AS WOMEN."
Now she's kind of puffing her chest out, like guys do to one another when they're about to fight over me.
Holy shit, I think. Is this lunatic going to try to fight this woman with a baby over not holding the door open for me?
I say, "Really, it's ok, just leave it be. Please."
The young girl with the baby turns back around and crazy miraculously shuts up. Now we're just standing in line waiting for our coffee and I feel the need to keep talking because it's gotten quietly awkward.
"So" I say to crazy, "Have you won anything on roll up the rim to win?"
Why did I feel the need to continue to engage crazy in a conversation? If I didn't, what kind of blog would this be really.
Crazy responds, "Ya, I'm here to collect my free coffee."
I point to the sign that says there's been 10,000 winners at this particular Tim Hortons. I say, "Well, I guess they'll have to change the number to 10,001 when you get to the cash."
'Whatever", she replies, "That's just what they WANT you to think."
"Huh?"
"They want you to think 10,000 people have won here, so you keep coming but I know different."
Oh, is that right crazy? Have the CFO and CEO of Tim Hortons been in touch today? I'm sorry , I didn't realize. What a nut job. Who actually thinks there's a big Roll Up The Rim conspiracy? I don't even know why I'm asking that question. She was about to fight a young Mom with a baby over not holding the door open.
Anyhow, I have another crazy story that happened yesterday but I'm getting carpel tunnel from typing this blog. Ta for now.

Can you do it any better?

I think the most boring way to spend your time would be watching church on T.V. Church is so epically boring in real life, sitting and watching it on television would be my Guantanamo.

I tend to have a lot of conversations with cashiers. I don't mind, I'm a pretty chatty person and if someone wants to strike up a quick conversation, I'm up for it. It's amazing what people will tell you in a 3 1/2 minute conversation. Here are some of my most memorable ones:

Me: "Hey! You're pregnant! Congratulations."
Cashier: "I'm not pregnant"

Cashier: "My husband isn't a cat person but he likes mine if you know what I mean."
Me: "...............oh god."

Me: "So nice out isn't it."
Cashier: "I'm losing my eye sight."
Me: "ha ha ha ha ha....oh wait."

Anyhow, now that I have Dexter with me, I have even more conversations, only this time it's usually only about the baby.
A couple of weeks ago I had walked to the Metro with Dexter. It was pretty cold out so he was in his snowsuit. As I went through the cash, the cashier peered over and saw Dexter. She remarked on how cute he was. I responded, "I think you mean hot, not cute."
I didn't really say that.
Anyhow, she looks at him and says, "Oh ,it's so cold out. Is he ok?"
"What?" I respond, "Ok how?"
"Well, is he warm enough?"
I chuckle, thinking she's joking because he's wearing a GIANT snowsuit.
"I think he's fine." I reply
"Do you have something to block the wind from him?" she asks
"Yes" I respond sternly, "the Gortex snowsuit that he's wearing that is covering all 2 ft 5" of him."
It was like a baby snowsuit burka for eff sake. You could see his eyes, if you really looked hard, but other than that this baby was in full winter combat mode. He looked like a mix between Maggie Simpson and the kid from The Christmas Story who couldn't get up because he was in such an intense snow suit.
She looks at me and gives me this look that says, "you're freezing your sons tiny balls off and you should be ashamed."
Well, that's how I interpreted the look.
I was about 2 seconds away from lambasting this woman with a barrage of insults attacking anything I could but I really wanted my Airmiles so I kept my mouth shut. The woman behind me said , "He's fine, he's a good little Canadian boy." Thank god she said something because all I could think of was the f-word.
In other news, I took Dex to his first day of daycare the other day. There were a lot of tears, but Will's doing much better now. More on that later. I've gone out and gotten myself ANOTHER hangover so I have to go and eat dangerous amounts of bacon. Ta for now.

Happy Birthday to the baby and to my stretch marks!

I went into this kind of hipster coffee shop in Leslieville the other day. I asked the hipster working there if they had a highchair, for the baby. I only need a booster seat, cause I'm 5ft 3".
This girl looked at me like I had asked her where they sell their Nazi paraphenalia. The look of disgust on her face was so shocking I nearly apologized for bringing a baby into her den of douchebaggery. What the hell? I guess it isn't hip to have a baby and even less hip to bring that baby into a coffee shop where it's a prerequisite to wear skinny jeans if you're a guy, and your Mom's 70's poncho if you're a girl. This just in hipsters: Justin Bieber stole your hairdo and smelling like Value Village is so 90's.
Anyhow, in other news, Dexter turned a year old on Sunday. Woooooo! He's so cute it's ridiculous. He devoured a chocolate cupcake and it may have been the greatest thing of all time. He treated that cupcake the way I treat the teat on a box of red wine: with respect and a tiny bit of fear.
It really is crazy how quickly it all went by. I guess life just speeds up the older you get, because you just become way busier. Either that or you just start losing memory because you're old and your mind is going. I should technically be going back to work but I got laid off about 6 weeks ago because they sold the company I work for! HA! It doesn't really bother me. It was time for a change anyhow. Do you know that the longest I've ever had a job was my job back in highschool? I worked at Longo's for 4 years, and haven't had a job for that length of time since. I'm a real committment-phob when it comes to jobs.
I've decided to dedicate my time to finding the perfect cheese anyhow. I feel like this is something that will be both satisfying and a challenge.
Happy Birthday Dexter! You survived year one with me as your Mom and Will as your Dad. God speed young man, God speed.