While sitting at my computer, I saw an extremely short, blonde Chicken Little wannabe go screaming past me running as fast as her little legs could take her, yelling, "Ahhhhhhhh! The toilet's 'sploding, the toilet's 'sploding! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"
It was overflowing. I stopped it and explained to said child what had actually happend. It had just clogged and that the toilet didn't actually explode. She's decided not to take any chances though and is now using the one upstairs instead. I don't expect her to actually flush again anytime soon! Not any toilet at home or anywhere else for that matter. Toilets are dangerous things and just too darn unpredictable.
Things are so much bigger than life when you're three.
I took my daughter to a sleepover birthday party at a good friends of hers. To say she was just excited is underestimating her mood. I helped her up to the door with all of the sleepover party paraphernalia necessary for a good time.
Her mouth was flapping the whole way up to the door and beyond. The more excited she grew the faster she spoke. She looked over at me to finish a story as she rang the door bell repeatedly. She was getting antsy waiting and was wondering what was taking them so long to answer the door. I knew something she didn't. She had missed the bell. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly in her excitement. Finally I clued her in. We both laughed pretty hard and she finally hit the target.
Her friends mother came smiling to the door and proceeded to open it for us.
My daugher tried to walk through the glass door in front of the main door. I almost peed my pants this time. I have done that very thing myself once. Walked smack into a glass window at a halloween party leaving a smudge of white face paint on the window. Hurriedly and feeling embarrased I walked away as another teen stepped forward and wiped the offending smudge off of the full legnth window adjacent to the main door of the church.
Ah yes, it is true what they say.....the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Too bad for my kids!!!!
Well, we made it to the bus again today with just one little glitch this time which involved me running to get something. I won't go any further into it than that.
The bus driver just stops the bus, opens the door, looks at me and shakes his head and laughs. Is that a bad sign? At least we appear to be entertaining as a family. I suppose that's a good thing. At least someone is enjoying our morning escapades. Just not so much me.
Today winter is starting. 10cm of snow predicted. This is actually a blessing when children are involved. They love the snow and want to get out early to play in it before bus time. I think that on days that they are running late I'll just yell "SNOW!!!!!!!" and they'll be out there in no time flat.
I think that God must have sent the snow to give me a bit of a break today. I wonder if he has a giggle in the mornings too watching us. I know I would if I weren't me.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of our American friends. We celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada in October for some reason. Enjoy the day and all of the blessings it brings.
One brand name ski jacket: $130.00 One pair of new winter boots: $50 One winter touque: $8 One new pair of mittens: $ 3.99 One pair of pristine white socks: $ 1.99
Watching your 10 year old run down the damp mucky driveway to catch the school bus with one boot half on, the other in hand, trailing her coat and knapsack behind hat and mitt free during wet snowy weather......PRICELESS!
And you thought we wouldn't make the bus today Mr. Perpetual Chocoholic. HA! In your face! I win beat the bus AGAIN!
1 pkg chocolate cake 1 pkg chocolate instant pudding ¾ C Kahlua ½ C water ½ C oil 4 eggs
Glaze: 1 C powdered sugar ¼ C Kahlua
Mix all dry ingredients well. Pour into greased/buttered/sprayed with oil and floured pan(s). (I use a bunt pan some of the time.) Bake 45 minutes at 350 degrees. Take out of oven and let sit for 20 minutes. Turn out of pan. Glaze.
Can be made ahead of time (and frozen, minus the glaze).
I don't want to talk about it! This story is for yesterday's failure. This one is from a couple of years ago. I may have embellished a bit. As usual....I've changed all of the names. I'm proud to report I am now more on the "glass half-full" side of things.
The Heart Attack ?
I have always been of the “glass half-empty” school of thought. I do not like to consider myself a pessimist as such, but more of a realist. Being a firm believer in Murphy’s Law, I was quite sure that whatever could go wrong, would indeed. It didn’t take much faith on my part to believe this. I am an involuntarily strict follower of this law. It seems I am helpless to break free from its firm grasp of just about every situation in my life.
I also have the unfortunate disability of being a worrier, as many true believes in Murphy’s Law frequently are. I worried about things that had happened, would happen and probably never would happen, but possibly could. I worried about my problems, my family’s problems and problems of others around me whether they asked me to or not. I worried regardless of the time of day. I even made sure to awaken regularly during the night to worry in case I missed worrying about something during the day. If I wasn’t worrying, I was wondering what would be coming up next that would cause me to be concerned. It was something that I was unable to escape. With this in mind suddenly something actually occurred one day suddenly to my great distress.
I awoke to a normal day, or so I thought. It was a lovely crisp autumn day. The gently breezes blew the remaining leaves creating a calming sound amongst the branches of the surrounding trees. The air held the distinctive smells that one so often associates with a Canadian fall. Wood burning in a fireplace, browning leaves crunching underfoot, decaying plant matter sitting in the flower beds since the first hard frost the previous week. I had been feeling a little out of sorts since the clocks had changed just a few days earlier. The days becoming shorter at an alarming rate had left little time to complete the required chores, which had long become the rituals associated with this time of year. I just assumed that it was my normal worrying and nothing new. As the day passed, it became increasingly clear that there was something outside of the norm happening. Aside from having a headache, I found I had come down with a case of some mild indigestion. I contributed the indigestion to my bagel and coffee from breakfast. My chest and back on my left side were also bothering me. This I assured myself had to be because of the damaged mattress and box spring that my husband and daughter had created while playing a game called “Timber”. Timber involved my husband standing at the side of the bed with my daughter planted firmly in the middle. He would then throw himself onto the edge of the bed causing Katie to bounce into the air in a fit of giggles and squeals. This was music to our ears. This was a game they would play every evening after dinner until the day the bed finally gave out a resounding crack that could be heard throughout our bungalow and signaled the end to this form of entertainment.
I was starting to feel what I would describe as palpitations. Slight jumping sensations occurring intermittently in the left side of my chest. I had never before experienced palpitations and was not sure what they even felt like. I needed to find out for sure. I turned to the tool most used on regular bases by hypochondriac’s worldwide that were in need of information on their ailment of the day. I turned to the Internet.
“Palpitate. To pulsate, as the heart, with unusual rapidity; flutter. To quiver; throb; tremble.” Was among one of the many definitions I found listed in the endless source of information. “OH No! I though and actually cried out loud.” There was more! Listed in various sources was a large number of alarming potential causes for this symptom. Perhaps it would be prudent to actually make sure that my heart was indeed skipping before becoming too alarmed and coming to any incorrect conclusions. I headed for the medicine box kept out of reach on the top shelf of a closet out of the reach of curious little hands. In it I obtained a stethoscope rarely touched since I left my nursing career many years ago. I paused wondering if I truly wanted to listen and find out yet one more piece of information that may cause me further worry. With a deep breath I tried to relax as I made the decision to proceed with the examination. I placed the earpieces into my ears and took my first listen. All seemed normal. A flood of relief washed over me like a calming wave. I wasn’t dieing. That’s good, because my husband—being domestically challenged—is to ignorant in such matters as running a household or caring for children on a daily basis. After all, didn’t he dress Megan in a bright orange striped shirt with purple butterfly pants, green frog socks and sandals one day when left to care for the children. And wasn’t it true that their hair didn’t see a brush at all that weekend, not to mention their teeth. Nope. I couldn’t die right now. My children would become the laughing stocks of the school without somebody to nag them about fashion and personal hygiene.
I reached to remove the stethoscope from my ears, and then it happened. I heard the dreaded sound. The distinctive telltale sound of palpitations, an extra beat. I froze on the spot. Now it was fear that was washing over me. Only this time it was in the form of a wave the size of a giant killer tsunami.
For the next half hour or so I continued to monitor my symptoms. After much deliberation—which took all of about 30 seconds—I decided to call the doctors office instead over calling 911. “ Dr. Forrest’s office, how may I help you?” The receptionist stated with a professional tone. “Yes, I am a patient of Dr. Forrest’s, and I seem to be having palpitations. I was wondering if this was something I should be concerned about.” I said, trying to sound cool, calm and collected. But not so much so that she wouldn’t see me today. After all if the decision were to be that she wouldn’t see me, I’d be forced to take option number two and call for an ambulance. “Are you having any other symptoms?” The receptionist asked. Attempting to continue displaying a reasonable amount of calm—but still not too much calm—I answered, “Well. Yes, I am having some pain in my chest and back, as well as indigestion, a headache and oddly enough sore ears.” This last symptom slipped out before I had taken a reasonable amount of time to think about it. Once I did, I realized my ears were sore from walking around with the stethoscope attached to my ears for the last half hour. Hopefully this part of the conversation wouldn’t get passed onto the doctor. I got the impression that she had already come to the conclusion that I was a bit odd from my previous visits. The receptionist decided that it was worth a trip in. I could come right away. This was a good thing, because by this time my ears were becoming down right irritated. Upon a thorough examination my doctor concluded that I might be suffering from and anxiety disorder. “Anxiety disorder?” I asked slightly confused. “But I’m having palpitations!” “That’s one of the ways that it can manifest itself.” She informed me. “Hmmm. What brings you to the conclusion that it is anxiety over something to do with my heart?” I asked.
“Mrs. Halffull, in the past month you’ve been into see me with…” she paused to check my chart. “A sebaceous cyst, which was completely harmless. A breast lump, which turned out to be normal breast tissue. A severe headache which you believed may have been a brain tumor.” Here she paused to look at me over the top of her glasses, “which turned out to be a migraine related to too much chocolate. Lower back pain. By the way, did you get a new mattress set yet? And problems sleeping because you wake up periodically during the night feeling anxious.”
I felt deflated, embarrassed; yet oddly relieved. “At least it’s not terminal, right!” I replied with a nervous laugh. Dr. Forrest went on to discuss ways in which I could deal with my anxiety. This included the possibility of going on medication for a time.
I was preparing to leave; with informational pamphlets in hand, when she casually tossed out, “Oh, before you leave—just to be on the safe side—stop off downstairs for an ECG and some blood work.” As she left the room she mumbled, “We’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”
I don’t remember making my way down to the lab for the tests. I was back to thinking about Murphy’s Law. It had to be my heart regardless of what she had said. That was the worst possibility of the two. What else could it be? Surely not something as benign as anxiety!
Once arriving at the lab, I walked directly to the reception desk. No need to delay the inevitable any further. I was indeed having a heart attack. It was time to receive the final confirmation of this. Hopefully I wouldn’t expire before they administered the test and took my blood.
Oh wow! a thought just struck me! Since the first part of the above story was embarrassing all in itself, why don't I just stop there for now! I can post the rest (the rest doesn't get any less embarrassing) if/when I fail again! Have a good day, and wish me luck! [sinister smile]
I made it all through yesterday! But didn't want to live through another day like it, so I hit the chocolate chip jar first thing. The good news is that I managed to exercise adequately today and kinda cut down on the intake!
This isn't an embarrassing story per say. But here goes:
I am a chocoholic! And I have failed to avoid chocolate today. So here is my embarrassing fact. I let my dog eat off my fork....occasionally. Technically his mouth doesn't touch the fork (like that makes it any less disgusting.) I wonder sometimes is he maybe finds this disgusting and humiliating, but doesn't want to hurt my feelings, plus what I'm eating looks so much better than his dry kibble. NOT! Dogs lick each others butts and chew on dead things outdoors.....why would he mind eating off of my fork....D'oh!
Day 1 - The stats: weight: Equivalent to a female great dane and a skinny beagle. mental status: Alert. I can form full sentances, and still know how to spell my name. I feel like a blob on chocolate. Time to kick the habit. (hmmmm...maybe I should take up smoking....) Mood:Fat...believe me fat has a mood to it! Chocolate status: The house is packed with it. It was Halloween, d'uh! I ate chocolate pudding today, and a piece of chocolate chip muffins. (are there any other flavours? (smile)
I'm attempting the impossible and trying to give up chocolate (YES, AGAIN, OK! YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT!?) I don't expect to have a functioning brain for some time to come. I will therefore go into my "embarrasing stories" archives and post embarrasing stories for every day that I cheat on my attempts at giving up chocolate. Oh heck, maybe I'll just keep posting them until I gain my brain cells back.
Well, here's the first one so guess what......I didn't make it through the first day.....exactly. [sigh]
My sister and her husband just celebrated her second anniversary....I think.
My Sisters Wedding
The dream wedding I had envisioned for my sister involved a minister, the Bride and Groom and 2 witnesses. As much as I love my sister, preferably I would not be one of the witnesses. Unfortunately the happy couple had other ideas.
It was a small wedding with family only. Being matron of honor, I proceed down the isle with the flower girl, who happened to be one of my daughters. I assist her in the task of handing out roses to all of the ladies in the pews. It was a proud moment. I was relieved that I had found a lovely champagne coloured blouse with a dangling neck and black 40’s style shirt, that didn’t empty my bank account but hid my neglected bulges. I was stunning. OK. I was actually just presentable, but since I don’t often get dressed up, I thought I looked stunning. I gracefully bent down to hand the flowers to my daughter. One at a time, one for each lady. A horrible thought struck me at the start of the ceremony. I am wearing a blouse with a dangly neck! Guess what view the minister, groom and best man got. Yes, my not so volumptuous chest in full view for anybody to see. A more horrible thought struck me then. Nobody even seemed to notice or bother to look. What’s worse? Showing them off or having anybody care?
The minister then asks the couple to join hands to exchange the vows. I, the Matron of Honour Extrordinaire choose that very moment to take a mental holiday. Letting my mind wander to wonderful places, not seeing the ever important cue from my sister that it’s my turn to do my duty. I notice the silence. I looked into my sisters beautifully made up face and noticed a look of .... annoyance as she held her bouquet out to me and waited. And waited, and waited. Oh yes, that’s right, I’m suppose to hold her bouquet!
The minister asks for the rings. Now is my chance to make up for my previous blunders and exhibitionism. Ok. Have you ever tried to open a little tiny box with a small latch with shaking hands while holding a bouquet of flowers? Need I say more? I see the exasperated look on my sisters’ face as I finally get the box open.
It’s at this moment that my four year old daughter, returning from a trip to the bathroom, ran up the aisle with her lovely purple dress tucked fully into her underwear. My husband runnning after her frantically saying in a loud whisper, “Stop!…your dress….take the dress out of your underwear!” Too bad he couldn’t catch her. This is not a proud moment. Despite it all, it was a lovely day. We returned home after the dinner with one crying fussing baby, two bouncing, jumping sugar high children. Butter smeared all over my new champagne colored dangly neck blouse. One chocolate covered four year old in a purple dress. Not tucked into her underwear this time.
P.S. When the pictures came back I looked like a large baked potato wrapped in gold foil. Yup.....and that's the look I was actually going for.
86 year old female, loves rocking by the caldron on cold winter nights. Loves that old adage "There may be snow on the roof honey, but thar's still a fire in me furnace." A carpenter by trade, working primarily with natural materials such as sugar. Enjoys unique cuisine, and loves children (heeheehee) looking for a male companion between 25 and 35...."oh heck, I'd take anyone just as long as thar breathin' like." With same interests. Non-smoker, athletic, romantic type. "I just want someone who appreciates me for more than just me mind, you understand." No pets...."them varmit tend ta eat the house!"
All interested parties can reply in comments box please.
I haven't gotten into Halloween so much since before I had kids. What fun it was to get out the make-up and scraps of cloth and use a bit of creativity to see what I could invent. Apparently my husband thought I had invented my Dad in an old hags costume. Nice.
Upon arriving home from work, I tried to give my dearest a hello kiss as has been our daily custom for some time. He wasn't going for it though. At first he though it was my Dad since he likes to dress up for fun to freak people out any chance he gets. Once he realized the hag was me, I still wasn't gettin' any lovin'. I don't know why, I'm still the same charming person underneath...aren't I? Or maybe this is the real me coming through....
Quite enjoyable though, was the end of the evening when I went across the street to a neighbours to see if I could scrounge me up some candy. I approached the door with a couple of kids who were looking adorable in their cute little fuzzy costumes. I was sure that the neighbours would recognize me and turn me away, but alas, they didn't. Even when I laughed uproariously and handed the candy back, I don't know if they knew who I was. I don't believe they figured it out until a gaggle of giggles rang out from my house across the street. I suppose that I should be happy that it didn't look so much like me.
One child actually swore when I open the door. [giggle] That was an interesting reaction.
Well, time to put that kind of make-up away for the year and pull out the other kind that I use on a daily basis to keep from looking like that hag for a few more years.
Hope you all enjoyed the evening.....save a kiss for me next Halloween.
P.S. the costume I wore the day before to a Halloween party was "embarrassed." My husband wan't keen on that one either. Snotty nose, crud stuck in my teeth, fly down, underwear and socks stuck with "static cling" to the back of my clothes. Zits aplenty, toiletpaper trailing from my shoe and pants....you get the idea. Same reaction though. People wanting to stare, but not wanting to really get too good a look. Especially at dinner! I believe that one poor soul, not mentioning a thing, just thought maybe I was having a bad day and she wouldn't embarrass me by pointing out the obvious. My littlest child followed me around with kleenex so I could get "the boog" sticking out of my nose. Ahhhh yes, I love Halloween!