I’m back! I could rail off 200 excuses, but suffice it to say it all started with a little trip to Japan with 3 kids! Here’s what I learned along the way:
- Travelling is all about the kids. Screw the nice romantic dinners out, the cultural experience of plays and “high culture” when you can hit the amusement grounds, parks and indoor playgrounds!
- Forget eating where you want. Fortunately, my kids aren’t really into chicken fingers and fries. We had to go to rotating sushi pretty much every other day and this is one of the reasons why…
yes that is a “mini bullet train” delivering a custom sushi order to our crew…okay, I understand why they wanted to eat at these places every day and frankly I didn’t mind.
- Prepare for your kids to be instant models…especially if you happen to be travelling through Japan with mixed race kids. I was hoping to score a million dollar modelling contract for the boys. Instead it seemed like a lot of Chinese tourists enjoyed snapping pictures of the brood (look for Higuchi brother dolls at a dollar store near you soon).
- The stress is in the line-ups, not the travel. Try going through humourless customs with three bored and exhausted kids. Invariably it’s a horror show, even if they were perfect angels on the plane!
- Forget the sex, no seriously–it ain’t going to happen. And if it does, chances are, one of your kids is going to be traumatized for life!
Never mind that my baby is 3 1/2…I’m keeping the “baby” in those 10lbs! Photo by deadbeat mom copyright 2015.
Okay, I’ll admit it, I was one of those people that bounced back pretty fast after childbirth (sorry). But then I went back to work and something happened, I somehow managed to gain 10 lbs of “flashback” baby weight. Call it a sad rationalization for slowly becoming part of the obesity movement (I mean epidemic), but I’m going to embrace those 10lbs dammit and here’s why…
- “I rather be fat than bitchy,” notes my sage friend Crystal. Yup, me too. Both of us recognize that the soothing, emotion-numbing impact of a glass of wine (or two or three) when all you want to do is scream, “would you stop singing that f*%$#@$ song over and over again.” Wine and accompanying snacks might be bad for the waistline but, in the long run good for your own (and kids’) emotional well-being. True yoga may have the same effect, but you can’t really do yoga while chatting with your friend over the phone. And my downward dog always seems to turn into a paddywhack machine for a rambunctious toddler.
- I’ll stay warmer in the winter. Living in Canada, the extra padding comes in handy.
- If 40 is the new 30, so it goes that a size 8 is the new 6!
- It beats Botox injections. Gaining 10 lbs means less need for fillers and cosmetic procedures. If I have to choose between looking thinner or looking younger, I’ll go with that youthful glow only a muffin top can bring.
- Great excuse for a new wardrobe! I’ve started to realize that my “skinny clothes” might have to go to Syrian refugees–all for a good cause of course!
So clearly the youngest gets the acting gene from me! He put on this face as I took pics of him though the chair. Despite my deadbeatmom name, this guy is remarkably well-adjusted and happy. In fact, at the moment, he’s the most rational of the bunch. Guess he’s just making the face to try to live up to the persona I’ve created for myself!
A while back, I happened to catch a Dr. Oz show. Don’t worry, I’m not a regular viewer–I tend only to watch shows that go well with wine like Madmen, or the Daily Show or the Muppets… But by the end of the show I was hurling my wine glass at the TV and cursing like a trucker.
Why? Well, you see, Dr. Oz did an entire show on adult onset ADHD. “ADHD can cause forgetfulness, irritability and procrastination, all of which can put a healthy marriage at risk. In fact, adults with ADHD are twice as likely to get divorced.”
Dr. Oz Website
I don’t normally write about politics, but given the stunning overthrow of the Conservative Party in Canada two days ago, I thought this might be a good day to offer up some advice to my truly “blue” friends today.
Why did they lose?
Well I’m no political pundit, but I say it came down to something my boys are learning all about in grade school: character. In fact, character is officially part of the curriculum of the Toronto District School Board (TDSB).
“Character development at the TDSB is about helping students learn and practice positive character attributes. When we build good character, we build strong communities.” –TDSB website
So here’s a smart way to ensure you keep up with your mommy blog–take a continuing ed. course in social media where you have to blog for credit!
Yup, I actually had to pay over $700 to get that kick in the pants to start writing “for fun” again. And in my 2-year absence what’s changed? Scary Mommy, that’s what! Now Scary Mommy doesn’t actually scare me–I’m really just jealous. Because while I was toiling away at my not-for-profit communications gig, juggling three boys and their Pigpen-like cloud of dust surrounding them, she was busy getting over a MILLION followers–wtf? I’m not sure which blog was first but I think I could take her in a WWF-style blogging smackdown!
This is what I was apparently doing with my time…
Ignoring the grunts as I scrambled to cook dinner I discovered THIS in my Eco-shopping bucket under the kitchen table. I’m concerned he may have found the beer judging from his blasé look…
I spy with my sunglassed eye…
So while taking baby K to his first year appointment last week, I noticed a new parenting phenom–pushing iPhones to kids as a way to offload actual parenting duties.
Now, before you think I’m getting all high and mighty, let me preface this entry by saying I’m not against technology. Nor am I against kids using it from time to time. In fact when juggling three kids alone at the local fish and chip restaurant (what the f$%k was I thinking?) I did cave and put Thomas on for the older kids so that I could finish my meal in relative peace. And for a last resort, I readily admit the iPhone has been a pure and utter Godsend.
What freaked me out about last week though was hearing this: “Honey do you want me to read a book? Or play a game on the iPad?” She might as well have been asking “Do you want to go to Grandma’s in Hamilton or jet off to Disneyworld and meet Belle and Snow White?” Continue reading
I’ve always considered myself a pretty relaxed mom in that I’ve let my boys explore the world fairly uninhibited (only leashed them for about 2 weeks during the height of the “bolting for the street phase.”). But as my third boy approaches the “into everything in sight” stage, I’ve noticed I’m starting to really let my standards slide–how else is he going to learn??? You’re probably on your third boy if:
- Cords are a valid distraction so long as they’re unplugged from the wall (they can still be plugged into the computer though–a small shock could possibly have a Pavlovian effect).
- You’re fine with your 6-year-old spinning the baby around provided said baby is still giggling (even though you’re well aware that it could all end in tears and a visit to the hospital).
- You’ve “lost” your baby in the backyard only to discover him stuck, lying on his back in a bush like an overturned turtle (true story).
- You’ve started telling people that the semi-permanent bruise on your baby’s forehead is, in fact, a birthmark, despite the fact that it seems to move from one side of his head to another.
- Day four of his life was spent in the emergency room because you literally dropped him on his head (to be fair, it hurt me way more than him).
- Crumbs on the floor are a legitimate form of nutrition.
- Dirt and rocks also count as food.
- 2 days in the same sleeper is the norm…(I’m an environmentalist trying to conserve water!)
- You’re grateful that the baby inherited his dad’s dark skin because you frequently forget to apply sunscreen.
- You’re relieved you forget to apply sunscreen because, although you bought the stuff, the Vitamin D remains unopened.
5) You’re relieved to discover that Retin A is okay while breastfeeding.
4) You talk about your baby’s puke, the insanity that is your life and how you want to strangle your husband via a phone conversation vs. texting.
3) You hope other people chalk up your fatigued look to the baby and not to age!
2) Regardless of how many times you throw the baby over your head your triceps are still saggy.
1) The baby pinches your neck “waddle” while feeding (and you actually know what a waddle is because you were a huge fan of Ally McBeal in the 90s!).
So did the ultrasound last week. A few things have changed in the last 3 and a half years. Namely, ultrasound techs are afraid to disclose ANY info, including the sex of the baby. After 30 minutes of measures and picture taking she let my husband come in to the room. “I can’t tell you the sex of the baby, but I can leave the picture on the screen so you can figure it out.”
Sigh. Right then and there I knew it was another boy (we already have two). Mother of THREE boys? And there it was, sticking out like a pencil tip–a penis! Can’t say I was surprised, but my husband, convinced it was a girl was in utter shock.
- Please be a girl or a fussy, neat gay boy!
Yup. Preggars for a third time! Just when I thought I’d seen the last of dirty diapers, sleepless nights and a line-backer like body I up and got knocked up!
Trying to pitch “40 and Pregnant” to MTV about the struggles of a 40-year-old pregnant woman who must live with the burden of pregnancy all WITHOUT the use of Botox or Retin-A.
Stay tuned! If I can get over my “elderly mom” fatigue, I’ll write more soon!
My God, it’s hard to believe it has been so long since I’ve posted. Having a second baby really threw me for a long, unexpected, exhausting loop! As if there weren’t enough excuses, I thought coming up with more might be helpful not just for me, but for new mom’s everywhere, looking for new ways to rationalize a lax attitude, so here goes. (forgive me, I’m a little rusty).
1) Between diapers and potty training there’s just literally too much shit to deal with in a day.
2) My 2 1/2 year old reconfigured the laptop and I couldn’t figure out how to unlock his parental controls.
3) I was too busy every day preparing every single recipe from the “Wok with Yan” cookbook and blogging about it.
4) I was too bummed by the fact that that Julia chick stole my idea, and got a movie deal out of it just because “Julie & Julia” is catchier than “Pam and Yan.”
5) I didn’t want to steal Brad and Angelina’s thunder re. the twins.
6) I was too busy reading the one (yes, count ’em) ONE book that I’ve been reading for the last YEAR. (It’s called the Birth House, and although a great book, am not able to read more than 2 pages without falling asleep).
7) Keeping up my 6-pack abs takes several hours at the gym every day and I’m too exhausted when I get home.
8) I was just too well-rested and didn’t want to ruin my uniterrupted sleep with a late-night blog.
9) Entering my babies in weekend pagents, sewing cowboy costumes for them and winning “Grand Supremes” takes up a lot of time!
10) My doctor cut me off riddlan.
Okay, so my blog has kind of fallen off the radar. Partly because I’ve been working at a new gig, partly because I’m preggars again and haven’t had the energy. Anyway being 3 weeks away from popping out another baby, I figured I’d make another last-ditch effort to get back in the blogosphere before I go back into the trenches.
Why Being Knocked Up Again Sucks:
1) Everything hangs just a little lower the second time around.
2)You’re two-year-old keeps requesting that you “open this” while pulling up your shirt in public to try and expose your belly.
3) The first pregnancy was all about YOU. The second is about changing green and purple poo while trying not to hurl, doing 5 loads of laundry daily and dragging your expanded belly and ass around a playground as you consider who will pick you up off the ground when you pass out.
4) If you thought one child meant no action…
5) As the due date looms, you start having flashbacks to your first labour.
6) You literally walk around “barefoot and pregnant” because you can’t bend over to put on your shoes.
7) Your breasts have finally become your own and now you realize someone is going to take them away again.
8) You’ve accepted that spittle will continue to be a fashion accessory for the next two years.
9) Having had a “dream baby” the first time around, you fully expect to give birth to a colicky “spawn of Satan” for round two.
10) You realize that your “cool” music collection will be taken over by the likes of the Doodlebops, Raffi, and The Backyardigans.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted. And for good reason: we went from not even having cable to getting satellite. Which means hours previously spent surfing the web and writing once Noa’s asleep, have now been replaced with every home improvement show imaginable.
While You Were Out, Trading Spaces, Flip That House, Moving Up…the list goes on. What I’ve realized is that these shows kind of make me feel the way most women do after flipping through Glamour or People magazine: fat, unkempt and just, well, not put together.
Is my house fat?? I wish. But the stuff crammed in our little 1300 square foot semi makes sometimes leaves me feeling like someone who’s 200 pounds trying to squeeze into a size 2. We started out as minimalists, but then we went and had a baby. It was like suddenly POOF out of nowhere an eighteen wheeler packed with JUNK fell out of the sky and randomly landed in our house.
I know these shows are supposed to offer inspiration–I mean with a $1000, a can of paint, some cardboard tubing and a glue gun it seems like just about anyone can convert their den into an urban oasis. But when I watch them, I just feel kind of depressed. ‘Cause the reality is, no matter how much clutter I clear or how funky an idea I have the only way it would get done in the first place (and stay looking perfect) is to ship Noa (now 16 months old) off to toddler boot camp or a nursery school that takes baby boarders.
The only light, within this pit of home improvement self-hatred I find myself trapped in, is How Clean is Your House? For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s about human sloth. More specifically, people who typically live in a fantastical blend of bacteria and shit. So much so, in fact, that the hosts are always marvelling at how the home owners have managed not to succumb to some deadly bacterial infection.
Now those people make me feel good!