1. Attend numerous Halloween trunk-or-treat parties at the local high schools. Ensure kids’ costumes look extra cute to guarantee more freebies. Status: in progress.

2. Go to the pumpkin patch with Haddie’s playgroup. Come home stuffed to the brim with free candy. Status: mission accomplished.

3. Attend trunk-or-treat at the church. Status: in progress.

4. Grandma. Status: Operation Suck-Up always in progress.

5. Pretend we have not been BOOed. Status: in progress.

Translation: our neighborhood is currently doing a little secret Halloween treat exchange where you stuff a bag full of candy with a little poem, ring and run. Everyone is supposed to then distribute it to two additional people and then hang the sign in the window to let people know they’ve already been “BOOed.”

The other night, I took the kids to [where else?] Super Target to get some BOOed treats to distribute. When we walked in the door, Hunky Hubby was jumping for joy. The reason? I had yet to put our sign in the window and someone unknowingly BOOed us for the second time in two days.

Just a couple more days with no sign in the window and we should be stocked to the brim for Halloween….

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

It’s that time of year again that Jamie dreads. That time when I have a brain aneurysm and somehow forget over a 48-hour period that I cannot do crafts. That I have never been able to do crafts and I never will be able to do crafts.

Yes, it’s Super Saturday Season, folks. For those unaware, Super Saturday occurs once a year for those crazy Mormons who actually relish in this stuff. Those same people I should just stick to paying to do it for me.

I get pressured into it every year and out of guilt, I go. I vowed after last year’s nightmare wherein it took weeks for me to recover that I would boycott it all together. And it was easy because our ward’s leader is about as lacking in domesticity as yours truly and had “crafts” such as “101 Things to Do with Wheat” and “How to Make a Pinewood Derby Car.” This is no lie.

My plan was going well until, unfortunately, other people started boycotting and they decided to combine with some other wards and hold a two-day extravaganza. Other wards that had the most cute and affordable crafts that would make darling Christmas gifts. And so I signed up for pretty much everything I could get my hot little signup pen on. Again, a result of the brain aneurysm, folks.

When I arrived on Friday at 6 p.m., I meant business. I had five sets of four different crafts to crank out in a matter of hours. I set up shop and just dared anyone to even try to converse with me. I sat next to a chirpy, sweet girl who is soooooo unbelievably happy all the time. Especially when doing crafts.

I blocked her out and stayed focused. Unfortunately after a couple of hours I realized how astronomical it was for me to try to crank out 20 complicated crafts in one evening. Then panic set in. Mishap after mishap then occurred when my resolve became shattered and at 11 p.m., I was the last one there and still unfinished. They sent me home with one completed set of each and I need to do the rest on my own.

But it doesn’t end there. I still had to do the other gazillion things for which I signed up. And so I dragged myself back to the den of iniquity on Saturday, my normal day of play. But this time with The Hurricane and The Slug because Mr. Promotion now works weekends. It just kept getting better and better.

But the real kicker came at the end. When I was FINALLY done I went to settle the account for my cute and affordable gifts and came to realize they weren’t quite as cute (my fault) and affordable (theirs) as anticipated. Call me crazy but when I registered for $6.50 a set, I assumed by the syntax of the wording that a set meant more than one. Nope. I guess in their Domestic Diva Dictionary, a set means just one item, which meant my tab did not come out to the $40 I had roughly calculated but rather, almost $200.

Moody and spewing, I stormed home and fumed to Jamie about my harrowing descent into domesticity. And made the avowal that never again will I submit myself to the anguish and torment of Super Saturday.

Unless they do something really cute again next year.

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

My first real job after college was working as a publicist for a popular ski resort in Utah. One would think it was the perfect fit for an outdoor-loving gal such as myself: free skiing, gorgeous views from my office, freebies galore. I even dated two journalists I met whilst shmoozing them for Media Day on the slopes. After all, what better way to get press coverage than to date the press, y’know?

Overall, I’d say I did a great job (of working, not dating) and learned a lot. However, there were a few glitches along the way, one of which happened shortly after I started. One of my jobs as publicist was to send out a weekly press release detailing all the events at the resort. I had the entire corporation and several media outlets on my email list. Meaning: lots of people.

So, imagine how devastated I was when I made a grave error in one of my mailings. To this day, I have blocked out what the screw-up was but just know it was BIG. To rectify the situation, I immediately sent out another one with a correction. Or rather, an incorrection. I got it wrong the &*#*$ second time as well. By the third try, I was so humiliated I wanted to hide my head under a rock and not emerge until I saw my shadow. I mean, it works for that stupid Groundhog every spring, right?

You’d think I learned my lesson to be careful with the whole email thing but nooooo. My latest screw-up was last week. With Jamie’s new boss, Pam, of all people.

She sent an email to the various directors of the company inviting them to an Oktoberfest celebration on Tuesday night. Jamie, in turn, forwarded it to me so I could take note that he would be getting home late that evening.

In a perfect world and any email account other than my STUPID gmail account, when I pressed “reply,” it would send my response back to Jamie. Welp, not gmail. I wrote some snide/sarcastic comment about the big invite being from THE Pam and sent it off. Only to realize the second I pressed the “send” button that it had surpassed my dear husband was sitting in his new boss’s Inbox. Smooth.

That whole promotion thing? It was good while it lasted.

P.S. I won’t get into the sordid details, like how Jamie had to bribe her assistant to delete it off before Pam saw it. Just know if we see some changes in Jamie’s employment over these next weeks that I had nothing to do with it.

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

As I prepare to throw my Second Annual Kiddies in Chaos Costume Celebration (a.k.a. Halloween Party), allow me to reflect upon last year’s memorable bash. With pictures, of course…

http://www.wedpagedesigns.com/party.asp

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

To all those computer-savvy folks out there:

I’ve been having problems with my site since I had it designed and switched to Blogger. The problem is specifically with Internet Explorer; it crashes every time. I’ve had folks tell me the same thing when they attempt to access or leave comments on my site. In order to even access my site, I have to use Firefox.

My graphic designer thought it was due to .png file types that conflict with IE 6 and she switched everything over to .gif, which didn’t work. She thinks there may be bugs in the browser but hasn’t been able to figure it out.

Any ideas/recommendations from anyone who’s had similar problems?

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

What a great weekend! The weather was superb and we spent oodles of time picnicking and hiking through Colorado’s resplendent backcountry.

Another highlight was attending church from home. Huh? Twice a year, we have a big ol’ General Conference where LDS church authorities speak in several sessions that are broadcast via satellite. I love the inspirational talks but admittedly the true highlights for me are rolling outta bed and watching in my PJs. Oh, and taking a catnap during the final session. The only bummer is Jamie’s own snoring is rather disruptive. Yep, Model Mormons are we.

As for updates, Jamie got it. The promotion, that is. They extended the offer on Friday and the real fun begins on Monday. Well, not really. As Jamie mentioned on his blog, the chaos will be delayed since I conveniently invited myself along on his business trip to California this week. Nice of me, right?

You can’t blame me, really. When I was a pregnant Beluga Whale, he had a business trip to a beach-side resort in Florida and he left me here alone with the Hurricane. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was raving about how family-friendly the resort was and how much we would have loooooved it.

And so when he mentioned his latest conference at the Ritz Carlton, I don’t think he finished his sentence before I was on the phone asking Grandma to take Haddie for a few days and then booking my flight.

Of course, Jamie will be occupied with demanding meetings [on the golf course] but I’ve got plenty to keep me busy with my back-up man, Bode. I.e. sippin’ virgin pina coladas together, taking walks along the beach with him nuzzled against my chest, those memorable all-nighters. Ahhhhh, there’s nothin’ like California lovin’….

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

Jamie works for a large, established company here in Denver and is up for The Big Daddy of All Promotions: the director position. He had has first interview a couple of weeks ago and it went well. Admittedly, I’ve been rather conflicted and have been half supporting, half dreading the final outcome.

Jamie currently has a stable managerial position with good pay and reasonable hours (well, if you consider 11-hour days reasonable). If he landed this new job, it would mean more money, more hours and way more stress. My vehicle, Girlie Jeep, is near death so the extra funds would go towards a car payment but in the end, is it all really worth it if he gets home so late that I can’t announce “TAKE YOUR CHILDREN NOW!!!!” the moment he walks in the door, much like the I-need-a-break meltdown I had last night. Where’s the fun in that?

Y’see, I am of the mindset that I’d rather have my husband around than have more money. But by the same token, I know he is so capable of doing great things and I don’t want to hold him back. And even though he refuses to use spell-check or let me edit his blog, I still think he’s pretty dang brilliant and is the most qualified person for the job, whether the VP doing the hiring acknowledges that or not.

And so here’s confessional time. Would you rather wake up to find your neck has grown five inches longer –or– that your rear end has doubled in size?

Oh wait. Wrong question. Would you rather have your significant other make more money and be around less or the other way around?

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

As for Bode, welp, he’s my testament of just how colicky and difficult Haddie really was as a newborn. In addition to being easy going, he has this sheepish little grin that’ll win the ladies over someday. He lights up whenever Haddie comes into the room and she has affectionately nicknamed him “The Boder.” He looooves to be held and only fusses when we dare to put him down or when he’s tired and hungry (a trait he has no doubt learned from his father). And yes if you were wondering, Haddie’s marathon tantrums were more in line with her mother.

I can finally see why people like newborns. I still remember when my friends Dave and Rebecca came to stay with us last summer. Their daughter, Sienna, was only a few months old and if it were possible for the perfect baby Jesus to be reborn onto this earth, she was it. She never cried, slept like a dream, and would entertain herself for long periods of time. Because there was nothing more fascinating than gazing at the air in front of her. They would also fight over her:

“No, Dave, it’s my turn to hold Sienna.”

“Becca, you’ve had her for too long. It’s my turn.”

Don’t get me wrong. We loved the Hurricane and even fought over her. But our arguments were more along the lines of:

“No, Jamie. I’ve had her all day. Take the child NOW.”

“No way. I’ve filled my quota for the rest of my life.”

Bottom line, Jamie and I looked at the two of them like they were some disgusting, lovesick couple with unadulterated PDAs. Oh wait. That used to be us before we had The Hurricane. Coincidentally, it was Dave who christened her with that nickname. I am hoping they give birth to a tornado the next time around. It’s only fair, right?

Jamie and I tried to reason with ourselves that Sienna was a boring little slug. I mean, she just laid there and never made a peep; at least Hadley had some spunk, y’know?

However since giving birth to a slug, I have deemed it a beautiful thing. And if I could give birth to more miniature mollusks, the world would be a better place.

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