Jamie was home sick recently when he announced to me, “Today is officially the worst day of my life!”

The worst day ever? Worse than when he got cancer? Had heart surgery? Had his heart broken by one of those worthless girls he dated before me?

Concerned, I responded, “That’s horrible! What has happened?”

He then pointed to The Hurricane. “Not only does she dominate the remote but she has an opinion about what I can and cannot watch. My History Channel has now been replaced by Ernie and Tinky Winky.”

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

I’ve had many concerned inquiries re: Haddie’s reaction to her Binky’s “vacation.” So here’s the 12-step program our little addict has been undergoing this week.

Day 1: Jamie did the “snip-snip.” No, this is not in reference to the procedure he will reluctantly undergo when our child-bearing years have passed. But rather, he snipped the end off of Binky. We then left it out in an obvious place and waited with baited breath as she approached. Predictably, she jumped right on it, as she often does when she makes a non-sleepytime Binky discovery. But after a few sucks, she took it out to observe, and then tried to put it in her mouth in a few different positions (sideways, backwards, etc.) She then made the proclamation “Broke” and threw it on the ground. We thought that was the end of it. We were wrong.

When it came nap-time, that is where the true levels of her addiction were revealed. Not only did she lay hysterically in my arms for almost two hours, she was just like a heroin addict going into withdrawals. Her entire body shaking, she screeched, “Binky, binky, binky” over and over again. It took everything that was in me to not give in as I kept picturing them mocking her at her High School Graduation ceremonies if she was still sucking on that thing.
Day 2: Nightmarish Nap-time Part II. Haddie makes her first suicide attempt. I put her in her crib after a half hour of snuggles and comforting her, with the resolve to let her cry it out. This seemed to be working. Until I heard the loud BAM! in the next room. I rushed in there and yep, she had launched out of her crib for the first time with a big ol’ goose egg to show for it. She claimed in no uncertain terms that life was not worth living if she couldn’t have Binky. There were no naps that day, either.

Day 3: Same pattern: snuggles, cry it out (with the prayer she would not launch out of her crib), only this time she went to sleep. Well, for only 15 minutes mind you. She started crying and though I was tempted to let her fuss it out, maternal instinct took over and I went in. She was covered from head-to-toe in her own vomit. Possibly part of the withdrawal program as she puked up almost two year’s worth of plastic inhalation? I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning up her incessant puke and diarrhea fest. Seven loads of laundry later, I passed out at the end of the night.

Day 4: Grandma Day. THANKFULLY. I was a nervous wreck and after going for a hike (a.k.a. Pregnant Lady Waddle) to relieve my stress, I spent the afternoon sleeping.

Day 5: Went down with little fuss and only asked for Binky periodically throughout the day.

Day 6: Now only speaks fondly of Binky, like he was a dear, dear friend from her distant past. Until Baby comes along and the thefts begin.

Inevitably, To Be Continued….

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

Since Haddie was born, our family tradition has been to snuggle before bedtime and review our day’s activities. Of course since she just recently began talking, our conversations were previously rather one-sided (which I didn’t actually mind because I would always answer myself with things I wanted to hear.) If all conversations could be so agreeable, non?

Now that she has started talking, I get a real kick out of her responses to my questions. On Sue’s last night in town, we were all kicking back and I was drilling Hadley about her day. Now, something you should know is that we consumed some food that caused frequent errr…outbursts. The only difference is that Sue’s were more audible and frequent than anyone else’s. And because we’re great hosts, Haddie and I would make a huge production every time Sue would pass gas. Haddie would squeal “Ewwww!” and jump into my arms, as if I had a magic protective shield against all poisonous gases (we are obviously not above embarrassing our poor house-guests, y’know?)

So, we’re reviewing our day and talking about our tasty breakfast and fun time at the playground. When I mentioned Sue, I intended to talk about her amazing sewing abilities or Lucas….until Haddie interjected with her true impressions: “EWWWWWWWW!”

How sweet. Isn’t that how everyone wants to be remembered?

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

A couple of years ago, my mom bought me a foreign object. Something brilliantly white with lots of cool buttons and lights. It even had a gas pedal. When I looked at her perplexed, she explained, “It’s a sewing machine!” Ohhhhh!

Obviously, sewing ain’t my forte. It’s not that my mom and grandma didn’t try to develop my domestic prowess. When most kids are getting sent to their rooms for bad behavior, this tomboy was sent to the kitchen. Suffice it to say, I spent most of my childhood there. Sewing is out of the question. A wave of nausea still comes over me whenever I get within 20 feet of a fabric store.

So when Sue came to visit last week, I knew I had to solicit her help. She has been sewing for more than 20 years and actually enjoys it. Imagine that! One of the few things that helped Haddie jump from 2 hours to a whopping 4-hour stretch of sleep was this little miracle blanket called a sleep sack. A friend gave it to me when Haddie was six months old and it did wonders. The only problem is no one sells this little fleece sleeping bag and Haddie already established there is NO WAY she is giving up her blankie for some new kid who’s going to draw Grandma’s attentions away from her.

Enter, Sue. I innocently brought up the subject shortly after her arrival and she looked at me suspiciously, “You don’t want me to sew it, do you?” “Ohhhhh no!” I generously told her I just needed “guidance.” Yeah, right.

And so I brought the sewing machine out of the catacombs and plugged it in. And then she warily watched me as I searched for the power button. When I finally located it after about five minutes, I did a victory dance. It was then that she knew just how bad off we were. And how long the process would inevitably take with my pedal to the metal so she reluctantly volunteered. Victory!

But then came regret. That’s all it took? Displaying my utter and complete incompetence upfront? If only I’d figured out this strategy years ago; it would’ve saved me countless hours of futile Domestic-Diva-in-Training sessions.

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

One year later: who’s harassing whom?

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

I will not be able to post pictures of Lucas and Hadley until Sue forwards some to me. The reason for this is because he was crying in every single picture I took during their three-day visit. This is not an exaggeration. In the bathtub. At the park. In our backyard after the meltdown that The Neighborhood heard alllllll about when we made him share Haddie’s car. There was lots ‘o crying. I have photographic evidence to prove it.

Don’t get me wrong: he has transformed from an ugly-man newborn into a cute toddler. But he has this unsettling habit of screeching at the top of his lungs. To his defense, he was off his schedule (according to Sue). But that didn’t stop her from going on the offense whenever he’d start freaking out with the most blood-curdling scream you’ve ever heard. Her tactic? Much to my amusement, she’d spray him in the face with a little water bottle, which always seemed to temporarily work. For about one-hundredth of a millisecond.

I don’t really blame the kid because he definitely had his sweet moments…I just look at his beloved mother. Part of our history has been of me dragging her up mountains and down ski-slopes as I endure a barrage of threats and complaints. Yesterday was no different. Due to my delicate condition, I merely took her for a walk around a beautiful park. A walk. And yet still the barrage of complaints came: “He’s too heavy to push.” [Oh really? He's only 1 lb heavier than Hadley.] “My shoes hurt.” “My stroller is too short for my legs.” I finally intervened and observed that a 6-month pregnant Beluga Whale was creaming her slimmed-down behind. “Yeah, well, you do this more than I.” What? Walk? I finally started fake coughing and not-so subtly inserted the word “Blog” in there. “Nooooo, you can’t blog about this,” she pleaded. Why not? She was one of my favorite exploits during my travel-writing daze.

There were good times during her visit, too. Like when Haddie and Lucas were throwing fits at the same time. Or when they’d beat each other up as they fought over her toys. Or the blessed, blessed times-outs. Or when Haddie woke up about five times every night because she dropped her @#$#@$ pacifier. I have consequently begun prepping her that, like Daddy, her beloved Binky will be going on a “trip” this week. Only Binky’s extended vacation will be very, very different. Don’t think sandy beaches but rather compost and trash. Of course I hope to have her convinced that Binky is out sipping Pina Coladas with walks in the rain by week’s end.

To Be Continued in the Lucas/Sue Series: The Revenge of the Sewing Machine, Jesus’ Bathroom Habits and What Hadley Really Thinks of Sue Revealed

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

My friend, Sue, is flying in for a few days from Utah today to keep me company while Jamie is gone. Sue and I go waaaaay back to our missionary days in Geneva, Switzerland. We only served together for a month but got to know each other really well. Something about living in a shoebox (due to astronomical rent) and surviving her funny but sharp tongue (she’s one of those folks who always tells it like it is.) I.e. the last time I saw her, she delightfully announced, “Ewww, you have grey in your hair!” Yeah, nice to see you, too. I am sure it will not escape her that, for the first time, I am fatter than her (she just dropped 60 pounds). Of course, the Michelin Man is skinnier than I these days.

Sue will be bringing her little boy, Lucas, in tow. He’s a couple of months younger than Hadley and I’m excited to have a playmate for her. Sue came to visit when he was a couple of months old and was still in that I’m-an-old-man-newborn-with-an-ugly-mullet-and-bald-spot-stage. Now, now, before I start getting comments that “All babies are precious blah blah blah,” yes I agree. But the vast majority of newborns are not cute. I’d even go as far as to say the are ugly. Even Gerber model Hadley had mottled skin and scrawny legs upon birth. Oh, and she cried most of her waking moments. Crying is not cute in my book.
The funny thing is that Sue was in denial. She had already given birth to a beautiful baby girl a couple of years prior but had it in her head that Lucas was, well, cute. He was not. We were driving somewhere with her when she mentioned she’d had a bunch of pictures taken of Lucas. Perplexed, she said, “I just can’t figure out why they didn’t turn out. I guess he’s just not very photogenic.” Jamie and I coughed back our laughter and bit our sarcastic tongues on that one.

I am happy to announce that now at 20 months old, Lucas has allegedly foregone all heretofore ugliness. Of course, I haven’t actually seen him in over a year but she’s sent me some cute pictures.

Of course, there’s always the possiblity of being Photoshopped….

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

Jamie’s on a roll these days. The latest installment of “What Not to Say to your Pregnant Wife When She’s Stuck at Home in the Snow with a Moody Toddler While You’re Sunning Yourself at an All-Inclusive Florida Beach for ‘Business.’”

“Hey, you guys would LOVE this place. If I’d known just how amazing it would be, I’d have just gone ahead and sprung for the extra plane ticket.”

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

“Haaaalp! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”
Happy Spring! Or is it? In Colorado, we received a huge ol’ dump of snow and it’s still coming down. Haddie and I had storytime at the library yesterday and then decided to play outside. My little half-breed definitely has cold Canadiandumness coursing through her [frozen] blue veins; I’m usually the first to call it quits when it comes to inclement temps!

I helped bundle my little Hurricane in her pretty pink Dora snowsuit. Upon completion, the kid could barely stand up and looked like the abominable snowman…on steroids. But then she spotted something…something essential for any steroid-induced snowman: her “pretties.”

Now, to let you know just how high-maintenance Haddie truly is, she simply can’t live without her necklaces and play makeup. One look at her tomboy mother makes you wonder where she gets it from; perhaps Jamie is a closet cross-dresser? Hmmmm….

High-maintenance case in point: last week at storytime, the librarian was animatedly reading a book to the kids when Haddie made a huge show-stopping production. She jumped out of my lap, rushed up to the librarian, and motioned for her to lean over, which she did. Haddie then pointed to her gaudy, pink earrings and loudly squealed “Pretttttttttty!” (So the kid has no fashion sense yet).

Back to the impeccably-accessorized snowman. Before I knew it, she had dive-bombed towards her necklace in an attempt to complete her outfit. Only problem was, my normally-agile toddler couldn’t get up due to her many layers. She’d curl up like a little snail, and try to pull herself forward and up. Each time, she’d slip and do an illustrious belly flop, like a drunken inchworm.

I would’ve helped her if I could; if I wasn’t being an unsupportive mother by laying on the floor doubled over in laughter. By this time, she was half crying in protest, half laughing at her predicament. The satisfaction I gained over my little comedy show was almost payback for those sleepless nights. Almost. Of course, I’ll always be in the hole because should I survive the toddler years, there’s always the teen-aged ones. I guess the only true payback will be several years down the line when she has to change my diaper.

Photos:
#1 [My, how The Great haven fallen] Abominable Snowman 2006 (with a death-grip on those pretties)
#2 Abominable Snowman 2005 (one of my favorite all-time pictures of her last year)

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

Happy Spring! Or is it? In Colorado, we received a huge ol’ dump of snow and it’s still coming down. Haddie and I had storytime at the library yesterday and then decided to play outside. My little half-breed definitely has cold Canadiandumness coursing through her [frozen] blue veins; I’m usually the first to call it quits when it comes to inclement temps!

I helped bundle my little Hurricane in her pretty pink Dora snowsuit. Upon completion, the kid could barely stand up and looked like the abominable snowman…on steroids. But then she spotted something…something essential for any steroid-induced snowman: her “pretties.”

Now, to let you know just how high-maintenance Haddie truly is, she simply can’t live without her necklaces and play makeup. One look at her tomboy mother makes you wonder where she gets it from; perhaps Jamie is a closet cross-dresser? Hmmmm….

High-maintenance case in point: last week at storytime, the librarian was animatedly reading a book to the kids when Haddie made a huge show-stopping production. She jumped out of my lap, rushed up to the librarian, and motioned for her to lean over, which she did. Haddie then pointed to her gaudy, pink earrings and loudly squealed “Pretttttttttty!” (So the kid has no fashion sense yet).

Back to the impeccably-accessorized snowman. Before I knew it, she had dive-bombed towards her necklace in an attempt to complete her outfit. Only problem was, my normally-agile toddler couldn’t get up due to her many layers. She’d curl up like a little snail, and try to pull herself forward and up. Each time, she’d slip and do an illustrious belly flop, like a drunken inchworm.

I would’ve helped her if I could; if I wasn’t being an unsupportive mother by laying on the floor doubled over in laughter. By this time, she was half crying in protest, half laughing at her predicament. The satisfaction I gained over my little comedy show was almost payback for those sleepless nights. Almost. Of course, I’ll always be in the hole because should I survive the toddler years, there’s always the teen-aged ones. I guess the only true payback will be several years down the line when she has to change my diaper.

Photos:
#1 [My, how The Great haven fallen] Abominable Snowman 2006 (with a death-grip on those pretties)
#2 Abominable Snowman 2005 (one of my favorite all-time pictures of her last year)

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