Heather over at One Woman’s World is hosting her annual “Share the Love Blog Awards.” I had a grand time cruising through her nominees and winners last year. She has fun categories and I’d strongly encourage everyone to drop by her site to give some recognition to your favorite bloggers. Voting begins TODAY!

Categories:
1. Best Humor
2. Happiest Blog
3. Best Writing
4. Best Site Design
5. Most Inspiring
6. Blogger You’d Most Like To Meet
7. Most Thought-Provoking
8. Woman Power! — Best Representative of Women
9. Best Commenter
10. Blog You’ll Never Stop Reading

Nominations: Jan 25-Jan 31 will be accepted from Thursday, January 25th, 2006 by email at onewomansworld(at)gmail.com until midnight on Wednesday, January 31st.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Some might entitle this picture “Colorado the Beautiful” or “Picturesque Pastoral Playground.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

It’s official: Bode has been tooling me.

This was confirmed yesterday when I dropped him off for a brief sojourn at Child Watch while I worked out. He had been fussy and moody since wake-up so I was a bit hesitant to leave him. But upon my return, he was sitting up with his back to me while he giggled and played with some of the other babies. Until he spotted Mama. Then the flood works started as he wailed, “You wouldn’t believe how miserable I’ve been without you.”

Busted! All your sage comments yesterday and that little experience have confirmed to me that Bode needs this little separation as much as I do. I mean, I don’t want to be the kid’s prom date fer heaven’s sake.

In case you hadn’t figured it out by now, we are model parents and human beings in general. To illustrate my case, I thought I’d include just a few of our more recent conversations:

How the Holocaust Began

Jamie: Hadley, who has brown eyes?
Hadley: I do!
Jamie: Who else?
Hadley: Daddy and Bode!
Jamie: What about Mommy?
Hadley: Noooooo. Her eyes are BLUE!
Jamie: Should we put her in a concentration camp?
Hadley: (ecstatically): Yes!
Amber: Nice. Thanks Haddie and Daddy Hitler.

Sleepy Sunday Morning Snuggles

Jamie: Did you know it snowed again last night?
Amber: Really, when?
Jamie: When it was dark outside.

When My Druggist Becomes Self-Serving

Given my inability to stave off any illness, Jamie has me on a strict supplement regimen to boost my immunity.

Jamie: I just wanted to let you know I have put you on a new vitamin, Tribulus. It helps with a number of different things, including increasing your muscle tone.
Amber: Sounds good.
Jamie: There’s something else you should know. It does have some side effects.
Amber: Oh no. What?
Jamie: An increase in libido.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

When Jamie and I booked our cruise last year, I was exceedingly pregnant, swollen, miserable and ready for a break from the children. Particularly a difficult thing because one was still inside of me.

Fast-forward several months. We leave for our cruise on Saturday and I am having major anxieties about leaving them. Well, more particularly about leaving Bode because Haddie’s first full sentence was, after all, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She has has been nothing but forthcoming over her preference to Grandma so leaving her has never been an issue.

But then there’s my mama’s boy. After having such an independent, spirited daughter, I secretly longed for another kid who pretended to like me. At least sometimes. I got him in Bode. And while it’s often extremely endearing, there are other moments when it’s NotSoMuch. Like when I dare to do the unthinkable i.e. put him down so I can actually wipe myself.

His latest illness has made him transcend cuddly to downright clingy. I don’t fault him for that but now that he has finally turned the corner, I’m left with a kid who thinks he can’t be away from me for even a moment. And who freaked out the other night when Grandma dared to pick him up. Grandma. You know: that same woman who will be his caregiver for a week.

To alleviate my concerns, Jamie printed off some articles on “Leaving the Kids Behind.” While many of the comments were encouraging about the need to periodically have a break from the children, others were scathing in their rebuke of ever leaving them. Quite coincidentally, these were also the same Nazis who nursed their kids until they were five.

And so I am in the midst of Operation Detachment and am looking for tips. By week’s end, I hope to have him bathing, feeding and dressing himself (just so long as he keeps his Calgary Flames toque on).

After all, I am nothing if not ambitious….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

After reading my last post, I’ve had some requests to expound about my wild ‘n crazy days of Osmond Idol Worship. The Osmonds was the first concert I ever attended and I was in grade school at the time. I was enthralled with them, particularly Jimmy (the youngest).

While his siblings Donny and Marie hogged the spotlight, I coveted Jimmy from the shadows. My reasons for loving him were innumerable. That sweet, sweet, voice. The Mormon factor. Those infamous chubby cheeks. And most importantly, I figured there was only an 11-year-age difference so I had a chance.

Obviously, the word PEDOPHILIA was not something I ever considered.

Our love went unrealized for years. But when the Osmonds finally came into town, I knew this was my opportunity. The whole day of the concert, I primped and prepped. What would we first say as our eyes locked? How long would our courtship be? And most importantly: would I be stinkin’ rich?

I still remember our seats: about 50 rows back and to the left of the stage. Not ideal, but I had a plan.

I know, you’re all awaiting an 8-year-old’s strategy of seduction. Welp, brace yourselves for this. During the concert while everyone was singing and dancing around, I sat firmly planted in my chair, pretending I couldn’t walk. Because I just knew Jimmy would pick a little crippled girl out of the thousands in the audience, we would get married, and have crippled children together.

Shockingly, it was a love story that never materialized. I still don’t understand what happened to this day. I just knew I should’ve held out for Ralph Macchio.

And so, fess up. Who were the Osmond Idols of your youth?

P.S. And to circumvent all those snide comments I would inevitably receive: Yes, this very plan worked years later on snagging Jamie….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

If I sound like a broken record, it’s because I am. Week 3 and we are still sick. Bode is worse than ever and I had to drag him into the doctor again yesterday for fear of a bout of pneumonia. We were supposed to hit the rodeo at the Stock Show tonight and then go on a fun getaway in the mountains with several neighbors this weekend. Neither look likely. Haddie is the only one who has fully recovered so she has been running the show. And you can imagine the condition of a household where a 2-year-old hurricane is in charge.

Haddie’s big news is after 2.5 years, she has finally been released from prison. I think some people call it a crib. I know I vowed it wouldn’t happen until her 5th birthday but during a moment of weakness last weekend, we setup her “big-girl bed.” Because what better timing than when we’ve already been sleep deprived for a few weeks. Oh, and also so she can have full access to her new Thomas the Train set alllll night long.

Thus far she has actually been really good but I’m still waiting for her to sneak out and paint the town red. Oh wait. She already did that to the kitchen pantry in broad daylight. I’m still dreading what she can concoct by night.

To celebrate her transition, we threw her a “big-girl bed party” at none other than Chuck-E-Cheese’s. On a Saturday night. I’ve never been there on a weekend and will never willingly do it again due to the utter chaos and all those blasted [go figure] kids.

However, Hadley had the time of her life as Party Crasher Extraordinaire. While Chuck-E was performing for some birthday kids, she shoved her way in there and stole the show, solo dancing with him, hip checking, high-fiving…basically doing moves I didn’t know she had. She had Jamie and I in tears for her little performance and her utter idol worship and devotion for that over-sized mouse.

When he finally tried to escape the web she wove, this little black widow whined, “Chuckieeeeeeee, don’t leave. Chuckieeeeeeeee” and chased him off the stage. I fear we have a serious groupie in the making.

But I was also bursting with pride because she gets it from her mama. You should’ve seen me at those wild ‘n crazy Osmond Family concerts of my youth. Ahh, the stories I could tell….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I’m still trying to figure out why those tomatoes kept getting chucked my way all night long….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I am pleased to report that here in the Den of Sickquity, three of the four of us have turned the corner. However, the lone survivor is the same who requires the most work, all day and allll night as he wails about the harsh, painful injustices to this world. And he is proving true to his gender that even the littlest sniffle brings about the most pathetic whining imaginable. Good thing he’s only five months old and still gets sympathy, though the all-night shift is certainly taking its toll.

Someone made the astute comment that we are sick a lot at our house. Gee, y’think?! I once had a friend criticize me for all the activities I do with my kids and how I surely expose them to all kind of germs on a daily basis. Because sitting on our bored-to-tears rears (and believe me, you don’t want to visualize a liquidized butt) at home and keeping them healthy is surely the better option?

Guess what: there is a flaw in her argument because I’m the one who gets sick first. And then I graciously infect my young because that’s just the kind of loving mother I am. The reason for my frequent illnesses is I have what is called a low white blood cell count. For those who don’t know, white blood cells fight infection. So even though I eat right, exercise daily, and live a healthy lifestyle, the littlest trigger (like ummm say extreme fatigue) sets me off.

We’re going on two weeks with this blasted plague so I finally took them to the doctor on Monday who prescribed their infection with some antibiotics. This was a big deal for me. I have a beloved mother and sister-in-law who drag their kids to the doctor over any little sniffle but I am the complete opposite. Call it my upbringing. I was raised in an unjust world where anytime I tried to fake sick, I was dragged to the doctor. I was denied the basic right of any kid to skip school once in a while because I just didn’t want to go. Damn Canadian socialized medicine.

The latest problem is that we have infected Grandma, that same woman who generously took the sick-and-afflicted for a few hours on Saturday. The same woman who was supposed to babysit tonight while Jamie and I attend the Avalanche vs. Flames game, the same two teams that are the source of heated rivalry between us. Oh, and did I mention we have a suite?

I was starting to resign myself that we may not be able to go until the suite owner (the same guy who invited us to his million-dollar cabin) also invited us to dine with him at the private restaurant for all the big-wigs at The Pepsi Center.

That sealed the deal; Emergency Get Grandma Well Intervention was in order. We busted in on her, stuffing her full of homemade chicken soup and vitamins. The jury is still out as to whether we’ll be able to go so just let this be a lesson to you:

DON’T INFECT THE HAND THAT BABYSITS YOU.

Amen.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Sorry I’ve been M.I.A. lately but we’re still sick. Actually, Jamie and I are what I call The Functional Sick but the kids are definitely The Dysfunctional. I.e. Delirious Hadley professing she wanted to “tip-toe up to the sky.” And then when poor Bode woke up after a hellacious night (details to come) with his eyes so pussy he couldn’t open them and screeched out as if to say, “What da fweak–I’m blind!!!!!” I had to chuckle as I wiped him down and he proclaimed his restored vision a modewn-day miwacle.

Needless to say, last week was rough. Another huge storm hit and we were quarantined indoors the entire time. This put a major dent in my plans to meet with a personal trainer at the gym. That same man who was going to miraculously help me melt away 100 pounds in 3 weeks before our cruise. Hey, it happens on The Biggest Loser, why not here?

Jamie’s mom mercifully took the kids for a few hours on Saturday so Jamie and I could have some time away from snot-laden misery. We took advantage of all our new snow and went snowshoeing. We also dropped by the local car dealership to test drive our vehicle of interest. And because there’s no better way to spend a Saturday than scaring the crap out of seedy car salesmen as I careen down the mountain 100 miles/hour on slick roads.

After being barked at by ma honey to slow down, we started talking the talk with Rico. We went in there with the intention to look at used models, knowing we couldn’t afford a new SUV. Until we fell in love with a 2007 car color. Suddenly, Rico’s talk of the alleged new leasing policies sounded like a possibility (and I’m looking for any recommendations on pros and cons of leasing new versus buying used). In the end, we’ll probably just buy used. But then again, I just don’t think I could go through this life without an Aberdeen green vehicle.

Last night was one of the worst with the children due to their horrific coughs. I had a church meeting at 6:30 a.m. so Jamie graciously offered to take the Bode night shift. Until he coughed all night. After listening to the kid wail for hours, I finally relieved Jamie and stayed up with Bode until 4:30 a.m.

I had every intention of skipping the meeting but ended up dragging my exhausted rear out of bed 1.5 hours later. I’d like to say it was because I am just that good and that I am duly motivated by my Christ-like heart. But noooo. It was because I had a dream that I had slept through the meeting and when I woke up, Jamie made me watch Austin Powers over and over again.

And so my friends, sadly enough it was The Spy That Shaggged Me who duly motivated me to fulfill my church calling. Kinda puts a new twist on WWJD, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe Hadley isn’t the only delirious one around here….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog