Figuring out what I wanna be when I grow up.
Oop..I AM grown up...

Friday, December 30, 2011

PLENTY of Angst Before The New Year!

Ah, my friends,

the year is drawing to a close.  I feel like I've been so busy, I've hardly had any "LET'S SHARE" time at all, and THAT is tragic.

Thus, I would like to recap what's been going on around here lately, but I think I'll do it in nice, tidy, individual segments--you know, kind of like one of those TOILET BOOKS!  The interesting little blurbs are never so long that they'll make your legs go dead (unless you read too many in a row!), but they're interesting enough to allow the bathroom to be "MOMMY'S BREAK ROOM."

Besides, a lot of you people out there have those super expensive TABLET things now, right?  Or your itouches or iphones, or whatever, so this way, you can enjoy this post on the can too--one little section at a time!  Or, if you find that gauche, you can just read the whole thing at your computer, old skool style.

Let's start here:

Make The Holiday Zits Stop

My loves, do you know where I was mere days before Christmas?  At the drugstore!  Was I buying stocking stuffers?  NO!  I was buying zit cream!  Yeah, I was thrilled.  Thanks Santa, for the present that just keeps giving this holiday season.

I came in the store and hoped there would be some clever signage to direct me to the TEENAGE ACNE SECTION.  I did, incidentally, find a really nice concealer stick that also contains salicylic acid!  That thing is freaking awesome.

Remember those days of farty scented acne creams that were supposed to be flesh coloured, so you got to walk around with a great big orange mountain of zit makeup on your cheek?  Yeah, that didn't fool ANYBODY.

Mouse Trap and Tsunamis

So!  Where are my SPECTRUM homies at, because I want to talk about OBSESSIONS!  You know--like, when your kid likes something, they have to LOVE IT, and they have to LOVE IT NEARLY EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY, and they have to talk about it constantly, and ask you approximately googleplex questions about their special interest, and repeat the same questions over and over again, and basically make you want to run screaming from their special latest fixation?

Oh, we've had many over the years.  Jack was obsessed for a long time with the 20th Century Fox logo, and opening fanfare-filled animation.  Back before Jack would even attempt drawing, he used to commission people to draw this logo for him.  We had stacks, and stacks, and stacks of 20th Century Fox drawings, and he would look at it on youtube CONSTANTLY.

* What's interesting though is that there are lots of people out there who went to the trouble of POSTING these 20th Century Fox intros on youtube.  I don't know--I think my son is charming, so obviously he's not the only one...but I digress

That's just one of many examples.  Currently Jack has been LOVING that Mouse Trap game.

You know the one:


It's that game that's been around for a thousand years, and most of us wanted it desperately when we were kids, but our mothers thought it was stupid and had very little "play value" so we never got it.

Well, Jack was going mental for that game.  Before Christmas he would ask which stores had it, how many days until he'd get it, would Santa bring it for him, why does he have to wait, THAT'S A STUPID IDEA TO MAKE HIM WAIT FOR TOYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS, MOM!  WHY DO I HAVE TO WAIT?!?

So, I'm trying to play up this whole bullshitty idea of Santa anyway, right?  So things went like this:

Jack:  "is Santa gonna bring me Mouse Trap?"

Me:  "probably (smiley face!)!"

Jack:  "well, is he???"

Me:  "I'm sure he will."


Me:  "yes!  He's probably going to bring it!  You just have to be a good boy--"


By the time Christmas eve came, that kid was beside himself for NEEDING to know if he would be getting EVERYTHING that was on his list.  I'm seriously considering handling Christmas this way next year:

Me:  Jack, you will be getting the following presents, but you will have to wait until Christmas day to open them.  So you can chill the eff out, okay?!?"

So, the Mouse Trap board has been set up for days, perfectly, pristinely, but for F*CK'S SAKE, DON'T TOUCH IT!!!!!!!  It is now VERBOTEN to everyone except for Jack, and heaven help the person who accidentally gets the ball in motion.


this is not good enough.  Why didn't we buy him the 1970's version of Mouse Trap he has seen on youtube?  Nevermind that it isn't in STORES.  Jack knows that almost anything can be found online.

Oh, and he loves the funnels one particular edition had, for the little ball bearing to slide through.  Do we have funnels?  Why don't we have funnels for TOYS?  Where can we BUY funnels?  Can we go to the hardware store and look for funnels?  Mom, can you come here and look at the computer and see how these FUNNELS look?  For MY BIRTHDAY, MOM, I want FUNNELS and JINGLE BLOCKS..

What. The. F*ck. Are. JINGLE BLOCKS?!?

I feel the icy hand of fear starting to grip my heart.


Jack's other obsession (this is an ongoing one since summer) is/are HUGE WAVES.  You know:  tidal waves, tsunamis, typical beach waves.  He got a dvd set about waves and the ocean for Christmas.  One disk features various surfers.  I've had THIS conversation now 5 billion times:

Jack:  "Mom, do you like huge waves?"

Me:  "well, not HUGE ones."

Jack:  "why not?"

Me:  "I like to look at them."

Jack:  "would you like to surf HUGE WAVES?"

Me:  "no."

Jack:  "WHY!?!"

Me:  "because they're dangerous."

Jack:  "do you like tsunamis?"

Me:  "no."

Jack:  "why?"

Me:  "because they're really dangerous!  Lots of people get killed."

Jack:  "would you like to surf a tsunami?"

Me:  "NO."

Jack:  "WHY?!?"


Jack:  "why can't you?"


Jack:  "I wish you would like to surf huge waves."

Me:  "I wish you would like dogs." (Jack has a massive phobia of dogs)


Jack:  "Mom, would you like to swim in huge waves?

Me:  "no."

Jack:  "why not?"

Me:  "I don't like huge waves, I'm not a strong swimmer. I don't want to SWIM IN THEM."

Jack:  "Mom, would you like to surf 10 foot waves?"


Jack:  "NO, MEANIE!"

Me:  ( $%*&!! )

How Old Do You THINK I am?!?!?

You know what I used to think was THE WORST THING?  When someone thought I was pregnant LONG after I'd had Ella.  Oh, that happened twice.  Once I was at a wedding, and a woman at our table who was The Man's boss at the time, leaned over and patted my stomach, and asked if I was expecting "another little buddy for Jack."

The second time happened at the WAKE OF MY MOTHER'S FUNERAL.  It's a good thing I love this cousin, because honestly?  She even thought I had "a glow."  AT A FREAKING FUNERAL, I HAD A GLOW.  PONDER THAT, PEOPLE.

So yeah, I HATED that, but last night topped that!  I went out for dinner with my dad and my sister for Chinese buffet goodness.

The waitress thought my sister was my daughter.

Yes, take a moment.

My daughter.


Seriously.  WTF.


40, clearly, is rolling in with a vengeance.  I loaded on the wrinkle cream at bed time.

I Broke My Butt

Speaking of getting old and falling apart, the freakiest thing happened tonight.  I was brushing my teeth after dinner, and doing my usual overly thorough TONGUE BRUSHING, and I guess it was a little too thorough because I


and then, OW! OW! OW!  I hurt my bum!  I'm serious!  I was kind of bent over at a slight angle, and I did one of those gags whereby it feels like your whole inner workings are going to come up, and then I felt this TUG and TWANG right at my BUTT DIMPLE and it was all burning, and super hurtish, and I couldn't even rinse my mouth.  It felt like a cord or sinew or something got moved out of place and stretched over my butt dimple, and it FREAKING HURT

So, I hobbled downstairs all grimacing, and I tried to sit on the couch for a moment, but that didn't help, so I laid out flat on the area rug. The kids thought this was hilarious, and as I was stretching my butt out, Ella quickly ran for her new little Barbie digital camera so she could snap a picture.  Then she put on my apron and danced around me singing:  "I'M THE NEW MOM! I'M THE NEW MOM!"

And The Man?  He kind of made some lame sounds that were pretend sympathy, and kept watching tv.

"I'm going to clone A FEW OF ME!"  I shouted, "so maybe THEN I could get some SYMPATHY!"

Here, I made a little drawing to show you where it hurt:

You know what all of this means people?  I'm falling apart.  BETTER ASH CAN MY "FIT TO FORTY" DREAMS!  THEY'LL NEVER COME TRUE!

I know you guys care:  my bum feels much better now.

And you're all caught up now!  Hope your butt dimples are all fine.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Time To Crawl Out Of Butter Mountain

Holy FROCK people.

Is anyone tired of eating?

Is anyone just plain tired?

I started my day with 3 Ferrero Rochers.  They are the CRACK COCAINE of Christmas treats.

No--I don't actually want to talk about chocolate.  I may throw up a whole chocolate river.


So!  What did you guys eat for Christmas/Your Personal Holiday dinner?  My sister, brother and I try to keep the Polish Meat Overload tradition going, in honour of my Grandmother, and my MOM.

This means that I make the special MEAT pierogi, my sister makes the breaded/fried/roasted pork shish kebabs (miÄ™sa na patyczki), and my brother made the kapusta (cooked saurkraut dish with chunks of Polish sausage)

This looks a lot like Grandma's special secret roasted pork/sauerkraut
pierogi.  Yeah, you boil them and then fry them in BUTTER, and coat them with caramelized onions
which were, uh, fried in BUTTER 

"meat on a stick" as we always knew it.  Breaded, fried, roasted.  You know--glistening with FAT?
I don't know what the f*ck that rice and peas thing is though.

To make kapusta, you have to drain and rinse some sauerkraut, but  leave some of the sour-ness
and simmer it for 2 1/2 hours with a can of mushrooms, Polish sausage, a little squirty of ketchup
 and a couple of tablespoons of LARD or BUTTER.  

Yeah!  Then you also have to have your basic roasted turkey, mashed potatoes,(BUTTER), gravy, bread stuffing, bowl of corn, cranberry jelly thingy in the shape of the can, simple green salad tossed in oil and vinegar, and GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE!


Herewith, I must compose a small love letter:

Dear American friends,

Thank you for your GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE.  We here in Canada don't make such fun, fantasy dishes like GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE, and that really weird sweet potato casserole thingy that I've heard has MARSHMALLOWS in it. 

Oh...there's that other thing you guys created called Ambrosia salad or something, which has pineapple and marshmallow fluff and other stuff?  Yeah, we can't decided if that Ambrosia salad is really good or really, really disgusting.  Leave it to you guys to come up with a way to take green beans and AMERICAN-IFY them!  Hooray!  Who even knew that crispy onions came in a FREAKING CAN?!?  YOU GUYS DID, THAT'S WHO!

That green bean thingy is DOPE.  I wish I had some right now, but I was so completely revolted by the sight of food that IMMEDIATELY after dinner I made my sister walk those leftovers RIGHT back across the street to her house.  Please visit again soon.  You make green vegetables PALATABLE.  Can you do the same for BROCCOLI?  

Affectionately yours,

karen Somethingorother

Oh yeah...also, my Mother-in-law brought THE WORLD'S BEST POTATO SALAD.  Yes, I can hear you now.  You're saying; "actually, that's MY recipe.  I use celery and mayonnaise and blah blah blah.."


you're wrong.

THIS potato salad is warm, not cold, and is made with ROASTED POTATOES tossed with crispy bacon and green onions in CAESAR SALAD DRESSING.

OMG, people.  Somewhere the ghost of my gallbladder is weeping.

See that?  The turkey is NOT the centrepiece on the POLISH TABLE!

My sister and I rolled 107 pierogi last Wednesday.  We are rock stars.  Now, in order to make all this Polish food, you need a shit ton of butter and, apparently, a whole BUSHEL of ONIONS.

I discovered that if you chop enough onions, your nose will just begin a free-flow.

Over the past few weeks, I made a lot of Polish food jokes--but with AFFECTION you must understand, because this food has a very special, fond place in my heart.  Like, I told my brother that the ONION is the Polish apple, and beets are the Polish tomato, and kapusta is the Polish SORBET, because that vinegar-y sauerkraut is THE ONLY THING THAT CUTS THROUGH ALL THAT FRIED, LONG COOKED GOODNESS.  IT'S A PALATE CLEANSER!  GET IT???

Oh!  And I'm super proud of myself because I made a PLUM PUDDING for dessert!  Me!  I made it!  I did it all by myself! don't know what the hell that is.

A plum pudding, is a traditional English Christmas dessert cake with raisins, cherries, almonds, spices and sherry (or booze of choice) that is STEAMED for 5 to 6 hours.  Well, I made one half the size and I used Port wine instead of sherry, because SHERRY IS DISGUSTING, and I even made the traditional "hard sauce" to go on top.

This is an old recipe from my paternal grandmother, and haven't had one since Christmas 2009, because nobody attempted it last Christmas without my MOTHER.



this looks a LOT like mine did, and it was YUMMO.

And so that is what we ate.  I would like all of you to know that once all the food was ready and on the table, after days of work, I felt like HURLING and having a cocktail instead!

Everybody else assures me it was delicious.

So what did you guys eat???

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Carol Of The Doritos

I have a present of lurv for you...turn yer speakers down a bit...

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Christmases Past

There's no getting away from it:  this is a nostalgic, emotion-heavy time of year.  If you celebrate anything during this holiday season, or have celebrated in the past, doubtless you have some fond, and not so fond memories.

Because it's SENTIMENTAL SUNDAY anyway, I couldn't help thinking of all my Christmases in the past, and the little things that stand out from all of them.  So, I'm forcing you all to join me on my little nostalgia trip.  That's right!  I'm FORCING YOU.  Anyway, it's been hectic:  you've been baking and buying and decorating, so clearly you need a little break.

When I was a kid, we always had a real tree.  We tried one of those tree farms one year.  I don't think my sister was born yet, because I can't remember her in this picture!  I do remember having to wear that super itchy hat thing that was basically like a hat and neck warmer all in one with a hole for the face.  My brother and I called it  "the egghead."  I'm scratching my forehead now just remembering it.

We had to go waaaay off into the field to try to find a tree, because we were a little late, and most of the good ones were gone.  Finally we found a slightly crooked, Charlie Brown-ish tree, and my Dad hacked it off.  We had a wagon ride that day, and I got a styrofoam cup of soup that burnt the hell out of my mouth.  That soup was actually hotter than anything that's ever been called "hot".

The tree farm was unusual though.  Normally we would get stuffed into the station wagon, and driven to every tree lot in the city so my Mom could hem and haw and "turn it this way" and "lift up that one.  Oh, it's a 'long needle.'  We don't want that," for what felt like FOREVER.  And then we'd return to LOT NUMBER ONE and get the first tree we saw anyway.

Tree decorating night was fun because Dad would always put on the same records, and Burl Ives would be belting out "Holly Jolly Christmas," and we got to drink egg nog, which at the time, was the best drink known to man.

We played the same tree decorating tricks on my Mom EVERY SINGLE YEAR.  We would pile a whole lot of the same colour ornaments in the same section of the tree.  Or, we would take the entire pile of tinsel and plop that on ONE branch.  Or, we'd take one piece of tinsel and thanks to static, it would stick to the tv screen and look like a crack.  Then we'd say; "Mom, what happened to the TV?" all innocent like, and it would get her EVERY TIME.  One time my brother put my mother's pack of smokes up on the tree.  One time he put my sister's hearing aid on the tree.

Good times!

Of course every kid freaked for toys.  Let's be honest:  you can try to instill all the good values you want into your offspring, but deep down in their greedy little hearts, it's mostly about the receiving.  A few toys really stand out in my memory.  One year my grandmother gave me a little jewellery box.  It had a little plastic ballerina, and played "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters.  I thought that was WICKED.

But, the best, the top, the pinnacle of presents was The SINDY HOUSE.

What I DIDN'T know, was that after the usual Christmas eve festivities at my grandmother's house, we kids got dropped off and my parents headed on over to the States to go to an aunt's party.  Back in the good old days, it was perfectly fine to GET RIPPED, have "one for the road," and hop into your car and head on home.

Yeah, I'll let you think about that for a moment.  Let's all say a small thanks that times have CHANGED.

Anyhoo, when my parents got home, it was late, and my Dad STILL had to put that freaking house together.  This may be why the elevator never, ever worked properly the whole time I had it.

I woke up that Christmas morning, and let me tell you--that majestic cardboard house was UNBELIEVABLE.  I freaked.  I totally freaked.  It had an elevator, a SPIRAL STAIRCASE...

wait, I have to tell you that I thought spiral staircases were the top notch of awesome when I was a kid.

So, the spiral staircase led up to the roof top patio, where Sindy would have all her outdoor barbecue parties, or lounge in the sun for as many hours as you want, because back then, if you weren't BRONZE, you weren't HAWT.

Of course, because the house had its small imperfections.  Like, the cord that was supposed to pull the elevator up would always get all tangled.  And, that spiral staircase didn't reeeeeally fit into the cardboard frame so well, and tended to want to pop up a bit at the top, instead of fitting level with the patio floor.

Oh, and I never did have all the furniture that was supposed to come with the house.  I mean, I never had that little bedside table with the WORKING LAMP on it.  I mean, MON DIEU, a working freaking lamp?!?  COME ON!  I did have the dining room table and china hutch, the bed, and a fridge that came with lots of plastic foods--enough to fill the fruit/veg crisper, and a little plastic brown turkey.

Oh!  And the china hutch had little dishes and glasses.  One time my Mom made teeny tiny pancakes that would fit on Sindy's little plates.  That was so awesome.

I should also mention (again---I've lamented this before) that one of the cardboard floors used to cave in regularly unless I was super careful, because my brother accidentally winged his basket ball into it.

So, imagine that you've just received all your super awesome presents, including this beyond-comprehension Sindy House, and then your Mom says; "okay, put your toys away.  We  have to go to CHURCH."

It may surprise you people to know there was a time in my life I was forced to go to church.  Like any good psuedo-Catholic-ish family, we went to church on Christmas and Easter.  Sorry if you like church, but to me that was SUPER SUCK.  My sister is lucky, because by the time she came around, she probably only had to go to church like a couple of times.

Yeah, I know some of you are going to point out the FUNDAMENTAL FLAWS in my view of Christmas, but whatever.  Christmas is for everyone.  That's why they invented Santa--for us heathens.

Then we'd have to put those toys away AGAIN, pile into the FREEZING station wagon, with its PLASTIC SEATS, and drive over to Grandma's for dinner.  We'd all sit round the table eating turkey, and pierogi, and meat on a stick, and meat stuffing, bread stuffing, cranberries, oily salad, corn, kapusta, pickled mushrooms, and stained glass cake, while my Grandmother walked around looking angry saying; "You don't eat nothing!" or "you don't eat much!" or "EAT, PEOPLE!"

And all the while we'd be dreaming of our toys.  Dying for our toys.  Longing for the moment we could get back home to our toys.  Projecting ourselves to that time when we could be in our new jammies, quietly in our beds with that special new toy, and all the other treasures piled carefully beside the bed.

The best Christmases were when we had the tree in the "good living room."  We were young, and it was cozy, and Christmas still gave me that magical feeling deep in my stomach.  I didn't realise it then, but Christmas was really much, much more than just the presents.

Wherever you are and whatever you do, I wish you happy holidays.  I have no problem wishing anyone "happy holidays," rather than Merry Christmas.  There are a lot of people in this world who celebrate a lot of different things at this time of year.  I hope they're all happy times, even if just a little.

my brother, my aunt, and little me, at my grandmother's
 I live in this house now, but without the yellow and black plaid furniture.

my sister, at just over a year old.  I remember she kept hanging red ornaments on the same branch.
After each ornament, she would stand back and babble some lengthy baby gobbledegook about the
ornament, and the tree and what she'd done, with hand gestures and everything.

Saturday, December 17, 2011


California Spring roll = GOOD!  :)


Thursday, December 15, 2011

Happy Happy Art!

It was a miserable, sucky, poopy, crappy, cruddy day here today.  It was dark and grey, and has been raining NON STOP since Wednesday.  Also, it would appear I'm going to have a cold for the rest of my life, so...

So, what we need is a good dose of ELLA ART!

My four year old daughter enjoys drawing, and it's so interesting to me to see the difference between her and her brother.  When Ella draws she's always satisfied with the outcome.  When Jack draws there are great, angry *SCRUNCHT* sounds coming from his vicinity all the time as he crumples his less-than-satisfactory drawings and tosses them away in a great fit of pique.

The most noteworthy thing about Ella's art is that it's just so freaking happy.  Maybe it will make you feel happy too!


The Happy Sun!

Heart And Happy Face

The Happy Rectangle

say YES!

The Happy Bunny

The Happy Square

The Happy Hand

Ella, her brother, and her cousins at the beach


Wednesday, December 14, 2011


I'm frustrated right now.

About the middle of last week, there was a note in one of the kids' school bags informing us that our school principal will not be there after the Christmas holidays, and he's going to a new school in the next town over, and some woman will be our new principal, and blah-de-blah, he hopes we will show her the same welcoming spirit that we showed him.

Am I the only one who cares?  Because, I care.  I like this man. I think he's an excellent principal.  He knows every kid in the school. He knows their idiosyncrasies, their limitations and strengths, and their issues.  I hate to sound like a corn dog, but he instills the kids with excellent morals and school spirit.


Yeah, that's how I used to be.  Whatever.  I still say it made me interesting.

So anyway, we've been offered a steaming load of "too bad, so sad," and nobody gives a crap.

I have learned that this is provincial policy for the school board to be able to move a principal around to another school on a whim, even if it's mid-year, and totally disruptive to the school.  I have also learned that principals in this province only stay at schools for five years anyway, and then they're shuffled around.

Oh, I'm sorry, but I was under the impression that this was RETARDED.  What about continuity at our schools?  What about school spirit?  What about the principal being the captain of his/her SHIP?

So, I wrote my letter to the school board and it was IGNORED.  Nicely played, school board.  Great tactic.  Then I was scrambling around after school, feeling out a few of the other parents.  Aren't you upset that Mr. So-and-so is being sent to another school? I asked.

In response I got SHRUGS, and a general attitude of "yeah, this sucks, but what are you gonna do?"


Even The Man doesn't get all fired up ever about this stuff.  And do you know what I said to him, which is the same thing I will tell EVERYONE:


I believe that.

I have exactly 7 days to do any kind of ralleying/lighting fire under asses.  Is it a total losing battle?  I don't even know how to get my word out.

So, I was flapping my yap to The Man about it again today. I don't know what's the point, I said, if everyone else is apathetic.  Even that one guy parent at the school?  I think he was MOCKING me.  When I mentioned that we should do something, he said; "should we start a protest?"

"YES!" I said, all excited.

 think he was making fun of me though.  Sigh.

Oh yeah, so as I was saying, I was telling The Man that why should I bother, because even HE isn't behind me, har har.  I like to rib him. It's my job.

I said;

"If there were a poster of ME being a CHAMPION, YOU would NOT be behind me in the picture."

Exasperated, he finished making his lunch and quietly escaped back to the safety of his dining room table desk.

Seriously though, see THIS?

I TOTALLY don't see him in there.  Take THAT, HUSBAND.

So what does one do, my friends?  What does one do?

Monday, December 12, 2011

Sometimes Life Kicks You Right In The Poodle

I need 3 fingers of rye--STAT

My 4 year old daughter came up with that expression.  She accidentally got a foot to the privates one time while swimming, and said she got kicked in the "poodle."

She is a SCREAM.

Listen people:  little karen sunshine is NOT here today.  I have NO words of encouragement to offer.  Why?  Because it's NOT GOOD, that's why.  How not good is it, you ask?  Well, I was just chowing Doritos for breakfast, and washing it down with Vitamin Water--my favourite one for improved eyeballs.

I'm coming down with a cold.  This will be my third cold in about as many months, and frankly, that sucks ass.  You know what else sucks?  I just came out of THE PMS.

So, I am still a bloaty water tower.  A FREAKING WATER TOWER.  Let me give you a small update (for anyone who cares) about PMS, since I started taking THE SUPPLEMENT.  If you've been with me from the start, you'll know that I used to suffer massively from debilitating PMS, ie; a full two weeks of homicidal depression.  Since I started taking the all natural supplement thingy, instead of having 14 days of OH GOD PLEASE LET ME DIE, I have about 4...and kind of peppered here and there during those two weeks leading up to my period, not all in a row.


There are a couple of things those little ass-flavoured pills can't touch though:  MONSTROUS WATER RETENTION, and the need to eat as many Doritos as I can get my grubby, oniony little hands on.  Seriously people, if you chop onions one night, why does that smell have to be reactivated for the next couple of days every time water hits your hands?  How does one get rid of that?  Must google this later...

So, when I cram down half a bag of smelly sock chips whilst watching evening television, I tend to feel BAD about myself.  I can't imagine why.  Then I go to bed and wake up with the worst tongue ever.

I don't even know what the hell this post is about, but it feels good.

But you know what happens when I'm all full of that much water?  I get jowls.  For two weeks I have jowls, and for two weeks I don't.  My sister says this is ridiculous, and she has noticed no jowls, but she does NOT KNOW.  I'm considering duct taping my face back for a couple of weeks and seeing if that will help.

Yeah, so I've been stumbling around, trying to go for these super lame power-walks, with a big doughy winter white ham hock jowl face, and sore ta-tas, and feeling yuck and exhausted because I'm getting a cold.

So that's all.  I just wanted to share my Monday pain, because somewhere out there, some a$$hole is trying to spread INSPIRATION, and that is so, so freaking NOT what we need.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Friday, December 9, 2011

The Era of the REAL WOMAN

When I was 11 or 12 years old, I heard the song "Hungry Like The Wolf" for the first time.

And I loved it.  Thus began my mania for Duran Duran for the next few years.   The walls of my room--nearly every square inch--were covered with posters of the band.  Like any young girl, I was in love, and obsessed, and filled with ridiculous fantasies of Simon Le Bon waiting till I was old enough so we could get married.

But this isn't a post about Duran Duran, per se, but about how they were responsible for really getting my mind spinning recently.

Okay, so I admit it--I follow their Facebook page from my own facebook page, and I get updates in my news feed.  I'm not a 13 year old girl anymore, and I haven't maintained that same unwavering devotion and adoration, but I do take a look occasionally if something catches my interest.

And so, they have a new video:  "Girl Panic."   In this storyline, we follow the "members of the band" around in their decadent lives, with little artsy shots of them in glamorous locations.

There is a TWIST though:  SUPERMODELS are acting as the members of the band.


Let me cut and paste a little blurb for you from an article I found HERE:

"Ladies and gentleman, it's the return of the 'Supers' - Naomi Campbell (as lead singer Simon Le Bon), Helena Christensen (Roger Taylor), Eva Herzigova (Nick Rhodes), Cindy Crawford (John Taylor) and Yasmin Le Bon who is keen to point out "I am NOT a member of Duran Duran". The girls have been draughted if to play the boys, perform Girl Panic! as the boys and be interviewed by the boys themselves about how amazing and talented they all are."

So this to me is like a return to those decadent, shallow, wealth-peacocking (yeah, I created my own damn word) days of the 80's.

and a fond re-embracing of SUPERMODELS.

And you know what?

I was TOTALLY disappointed.  And super duper bored.

From the moment Naomi roused herself from her bed, barely dressed, shoes with heals so high my ankles snapped just from watching, and she strutted around the room observing the other models still asleep, and barely dressed, suggestively lying atop one another, and the champagne glass still held in one hand, I have to tell you I lost all interest.

And I couldn't even watch the rest of the video.

Supermodels.  Supermodels?  Seriously?  Do we really still care about this shit?  I mean, remember the days when Supermodels were like demigods parading often across our TV screens, and pasted all over really vapid magazines with their blank faces looking out across a world of  over-priced capitalist dreams, worshipped as the pinnacle of unattainable image and beauty?

Oh, you could be a MODEL back in the day--and models were fine and good, but then they invented the SUPERMODEL, and the hierarchy kicked itself up a notch or ten.

That's why we were subjected to truly terrible television programs in which Tyra Banks and all her vicious, mean friends could rip a girl  to shreds; insult, degrade, berate and belittle her, all under the umbrella attitude of "suck it up, buttercup, this is the WOLRD of MODELLING and MODELLING IS HARRRRRD."

And there was ME sitting on the couch (JUST before I turned the damn show) thinking;  "what the f*ck?!?  They're JUST TAKING PICTURES!!!"  

Why does that world have to be so vicious and cold and catty and HARD? Why does a girl have to, or WANT to stand there in shoes that are cutting off the circulation in her feet for twelve hours to get that perfect shot to make me want to buy that perfume that smells like garbage anyway?   Why does she have to be plunked into a pool until she nearly has hypothermia while some bitchy photographer has a cow if she's not giving him the LOOK he's after, and be told that that's the way it is for real modelling shoots, so if she can't cut it, she might as well take her bony ass and leave right then and there.

Re.  Tar.  Ded.

That's not HARD.  

I don't need a Louis Vuitton or a Fendi or a Louboutin ANYTHING.  
You know what's hard?  Being a mother of four young children, with no husband in sight.  Being a mother of a special needs child who punches you or kicks you sometimes.  Having breast cancer.  Battling infertility.  Standing up for your own beliefs.

Real women are out there every day, and we come in all shapes, sizes and colours.

I truly don't get the whole MODEL thing.  That's not what I want for my daughter.  Ever. I tell her every day that she is beautiful inside and out.  She is beautiful for her BRAIN and her big, generous heart.

Am I getting off topic?

So what about escapism, right?  Do we want to see a video filled with pain and suffering because that's life?  No, that's not exactly what I'm saying.  Escapism is good.  That's why we like movies and books, art and music.

But when I saw that video, I said "hm."  I shut it off, and I walked over to The Man and I asked; "isn't this supposed to be the ERA OF THE REAL WOMAN?"

I mean, am I totally naive?  Aren't we moving past all this shallow supermodel, aren't-I-a-decadent-pretty-creature bullshit?  Maybe I am naive.  Maybe it's because I'm almost 40, and you know what's important to me?  Being healthy.  Trying to be as fit as I can be so I can be with my kids for a really, really long time.  I don't worry about wearing much makeup every day any longer.

Yeah, I know we can never entirely stop judging and valuing people by how they look.  We are, after all, visual animals.


Have we really not moved, even a teeny tiny bit, beyond that size zero crap?  I mean, we have Adele now, don't we?  Isn't her voice spectacular?  Isn't she beautiful just as she is?  Doesn't beauty come in a few more sizes now?  Aren't there all kinds of interesting, beautiful women in the world who will never be SUPERMODELS?

Have I only been swept away by this:

We still have a long way to go, but I think we're starting, if only just a little to move in a better direction.

I don't step on the scale anymore, girls.  I eat healthy food.  I exercise every day.  I don't smoke.

I never buy fashion magazines, girls.  I don't need a bunch of airbrushed, digitally perfected, impossibly thin women to make me feel bad about myself any longer.

I like to look as pretty as I can sometimes.  Other times I'm just not bothered.  And I feel good about it.

Hey, it's not Duran Duran's fault--they're just not ready for the new era.

"Things won't change, until we change them."

Go on with your bad self, girlfriend.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


This cake is so BADASS, only JULES* is the right man to present it to you.


Alright MOTHER%$*ERS! Here's what we're gonna DO:
We are going to make this MOTHER%$*# ING COOKIE CAKE.

Oh, I'm SORRY, did I STUTTER?  Did you think I said we're going to make some COOKIES?  PAY ATTENTION MOTHER%$*ER, because we are not going to be making any $&#!*& COOKIES.  We are GOING to be making a CAKE.  And not just ANY CAKE: we are going to make a  %!*#! COOKIE CAKE.  It BEHOOVES you to PAY ATTENTION.

CAN YOU READ?  That's good!  That makes me happy, because I am going to take all the ingredients, and all the NECESSARY INSTRUCTIONS, and I am going to LAY THEM OUT FOR YOU.  And soon you will feel the power of this delicious, MOTHER%$*# ING cake.  And then, you are GOING to make this buttery, fluffy, real vanilla, cookie-crowned cake.  Ya dig?


* preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl:

1 ¼ cups cake and pastry flour
scant half cup white sugar
1 tbsp baking powder - sifted
¼ tsp baking soda - sifted
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp pumpkin pie spice (I will accept cinnamon as well)
½ cup very soft butter

whir together with a blender until all butter is well incorporated and mixture resembles coarse sand

YES, I SAID IT CORRECTLY:  you mix the BUTTER with the dry ingredients.  Are you an idiot?  Of course not.  Neither am I.  This is going to give us a much better cake texture.  Shall we continue now?

In measuring cup: 

1 egg
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 small container  (100 g) good vanilla yogurt (like Activia)
3 tbsp sour cream

mix together in the measuring cup lightly until JUST blended


3 tbsp butter melted
10 Cinnamon spice wafer cookies crushed into small pieces

blend cookies with butter

set aside.

  • Butter a typical 9 inch round cake pan.  Cut a circle of waxed paper to fit the bottom.  Butter waxed paper.  Lightly flour the entire pan. 
  • Add loosely mixed liquid ingredients to coarse, sandy dry ingredients.  Blend together until ALMOST all mixed.  Remove beater from blender and lightly scoop the rest together.  Mixture should be barely mixed and look coarse, thick and slightly curdled
  • Blop batter into pan and gently coax around the pan with your spoon until mixture covers the pan. 
  • Sprinkle crushed buttered cookie mixture overtop of cake
  • Bake for 25-30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean 

Only a fool would forsake the GLAZE.


¼ cup melted butter
1 cup icing sugar
enough warm water to make icing sugar runny

mix together and drizzle over cooled cake

Voila, you are a genius.

Now let's take a look at that beautiful MOTHER%$*# ING cake!

batter and $%&ing cookie bits


Now THAT is a thing of beauty.

So, are we friends?  Are we COOL you and I?  Do you understand WHY you need to make this MOTHER%$*# ING COOKIE CAKE now?  Don't make me come back and explain it to you again.

Well?  What are you waiting for?  GO MAKE THIS CAKE, MOTHER%$*ER!!!

* I love Jules.  Jules is awesome, but he is not a character I created.  You can find Jules in Quentin Tarantino's PULP FICTION (1994).

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Twilight Breaking Dawn Part 1 - MELODRAMA-RAMA






And now...without further ado...

I'm getting pretty good on "PAINT", no?

Okay, so I FINALLY got to see the latest Twilight movie.  Honestly, I thought that magical day would NEVER COME.  Remember when I whined about it in this post?  Well FINALLY, it made it into theatres, so my sister and I waited for a Tuesday night, because a) we don't really give a crap about being cool anymore and b) it's cheap night.

Here's what it means to be a MOTHERTRUCKING GROWNUP going to see this movie:  you buy your tickets ONLINE YO, with your emmereffing PAY PAL account, because that's how you roll.  No, you don't stand all squished in some stupid line with all the other teenagers--you glide into the theatre with tickets you printed yourself.  And you laugh at the teenagers.  And you chortle as you head straight to the line for popcorn and a bottle of water.

Then you stop laughing for a minute because that cost eleven bucks.  

Eleven bucks.  Seriously.  The bottle of water was almost four freaking dollars.

Then as you head on over to the ticket scanner guy, you pass by all the other teenagers and you make jokes like how you want to walk up to them and say;

"um, excuse me, didn't you guys buy your tickets online?  No?  WE DID!  HA HA HA! YOU GUYS SUCK!"

You get to make that joke until it gets really old.

So, anyway, as we found our seats and got to observe the people coming in, I noticed there were a lot of dudes.  I feel sorry for you guys, all brow-beaten by your girlfriends.  I guess that's what you do when you're young, and naive.  Oh wait, one of my long time friends went to see it.  Hee hee.  You know who you are.  You're a regular reader/commenter of this blog.  But then I also saw some men around my dad's age coming with ladies to see the show.

Perplexing.  Truly perplexing.

Oh well, I digress...

Okay, so let's say this about the recent Twilight film:  could it BE more melodramatic?  This is why I have dubbed it "MELODRAMA-RAMA".  Let me give you the quick take on the whole debacle:

Bella and Edward have been in love, ever since Bella has been bewitched by Edward's super pasty skin and freakish orangey caramel coloured eyes.  Blah, blah, for book after book they're super horny for each other, but OH WHAT A SURPRISE, Edward is an old fashioned dude at heart, so he'll only dead-bone the chick he wants to marry AFTER he has married her.  

I KNOW you're a vampire and I AM HOT FOR IT.  So, so hot for it.

So, Bella probably finally decides to marry Edward just so she can get her some of that VAMPIRE LOVIN'.  Oh wait, this is cynical.  Aherm:  they are star-crossed lovers, and their love is like no other love that has ever happened before.  

Just to complicate matters, Bella wants Eddie to turn HER into a vampire, so he doesn't stay all 17 YEAR OLD HOTNESS while she gets saggy hoots and jowls like all the rest of us.  And to complicate matters further, there's a tedious love triangle because Bella also likes this guy Jacob, who happens to be a werewolf.

feel the lurv

AND SO, the movie begins with Edward and Bella about to get married.  I would like to say that I am pleased that Edward does not look too ugly in this movie, because with each successive movie, he was getting urglier and urglier as they tried to make him look more and more vampirish.  So this basically meant he had super dark eyebrows and revoltingly red lips.  And we were STILL supposed to believe that even though he looked totally stoopid that a) the other students at his highschool had NO CLUE that he was a weirdo, and b) Bella found him incredibly hot, despite his really retarded hair.  But not nearly so retarded as Carlisle's and most of all JASPER'S--but I'll get to that.

Finally, it's the wedding scene, and all you girls out there who have lived and dreamed the idea of WEDDING since you flopped out of your mother's womb will not be disappointed, because visually the wedding is STUNNING:  festoons of white flowers hang from the forest creating a magical fairytale effect.  Also, they had to hang garland after garland of white flowers to sort of form a canopy because Edward and his vampire brethren and sistren sparkle like disco balls when the sun hits them.


Then Bella comes out and we finally get to see her dress!  SQUEE!  So, I read some stupid article about Bella's dress online, and the yucky icky fashionista who wrote it said that she hated Bella's dress and thought it was so stupid and looked like a figure skater's costume.  Also, she was WORRIED that young girls would be "fooled" into thinking the dress is "nice."  Well, from a girl who is tired of all girls going for the crunchy pin-curled hair piled on top of their heads, with the big poofy, princess dress, I for one LURVED IT.

So, blah, blah, movie progresses.  B & E are so happy and it's so sappy that it's making me want to yak, and they're married now, and oh, the whole world has disappeared and nobody is in it but just them...

BUT OH NO!  Jacob, that other guy who Bella loves but doesn't love quite as much as she loves Edward is P.O.-ED because Bella intends to become a vampira and then she will be DEAD TO HIM.  DO YOU HEAR ME?  DEAD TO HIM, JUST AS SHE HERSELF WILL BE DEAD.  NO JACOB!  DON'T SAY THAT!  I LOVE YOU JACOB!  I CAN'T STOP CRYING!  HOLD ME EDWARD, MY HEART IS BREAKING BECAUSE MY SECOND BOYFRIEND IS MAD AT ME!

Skip to the honeymoon!  

Bella is happy because she can finally get her freak on with Edward.  You know--the guy who's all "Bella, we can't" (whine whine) whenever Bella has tried to make the moves on him in the past.  There's only one problem though:  Edward is SUPER POWERFUL, and in his UNBRIDLED LUST he runs the risk of CRUSHING BELLA, OR MAYBE EVEN KILLING HER AND 

who cares?

What we DO have to live through in the meanwhile, are lots and lots of super cringe-worthy smoochy woochy scenes.  Like, I totally wished for a pillow to hold over my face because it was painful.  I mean, for how many movies did they just make out a tiny bit and that was it?  And now suddenly I'm supposed to see some Kristen Stewart HALF BOOB?!?  GAH!  SAVE ME!  SAVE MEEEEEEE!

This is the perfect time to put this photo in.  It's RPATZ and KSTEW of course, all steaming it up in the original, but that was gross and not nearly funny enough.  

Finally they get it on, and it's not particularly hot, because hell--what are they in real life--20 or something?  I mean, come on people:  what were we like at 20?  Not the love machines we are now, that's for certain.

Anyhoo, the next morning Bella's all "oh man that was HOT", and Edward's all, "Bella.  Sniff.  Let me see how badly I've hurt you with my manimal lust." So he sees like three tiny fingerprint sized bruises on Bella's arm, and he's all torn up inside and Bella's all "Edward, you're actually pissing me off because last night was the BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE AND YOU'RE TOTALLY RUINING IT."  And Edward is like "well, SNIFF, we CAN NEVER DO THIS AGAIN, UNTIL YOU'RE A VAMPIRE CHICK and can withstand the FORCE OF MY LOVIN."  

And I'm all--"those are her only bruises?  Pppffft...big deal.  In the book she was super bruised."

Not that I'm an advocate for chicks being bruised--no no, not at all.  I just want some continuity people.  Continuity.

Then one morning Edward goes out to eat some squirrels or something, and Bella hurks up the chicken she cooked for herself and finds out within minutes that she is PREGNANT!!!!


But wait!  Let's back up for a moment girls!  Bella knows this because her period was supposed to arrive RIGHT IN TIME FOR HER HONEYMOON!  Do you LOVE IT?  DO YOU FREAKING LOVE IT?  I think we've been over this before girls.  You know how many times I've talked about this happening.  

Oh, wait, I'm taking away from one of the best plot twists ever!  Bella wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant from a dead undead dude, and who KNOWS what the hell is growing rapidly inside her!  


Just to make things fun, the fetus demon thing is growing super fast, so THE GOOD NEWS is she only has to be pregnant for like a few weeks.  SCORE!  Who wouldn't want that?!?  BECAUSE NINE MONTHS IS A LITTLE LONG, DON'T YOU THINK?

The bad news is is that the thing inside her is freakishly strong and is sucking out her vital essence, and NOOOOBODY can even see what the baby looks like, including CARLISLE, EDWARD'S ADOPTIVE FATHER WHO HAPPENS TO BE A DOCTOR, because the placenta is like it's made out of rock, and Carlisle can't see through that with all his fancy shmancy ultrasound equipment he has in his home.  

Wait--let's talk about Carlisle for a minute:

This is how he looks in the movies.  He's a super bland character who you really don't give much of a crap about.  He has a very terrible, stupid mannequin looking wig on, and whenever there's a scene with him, all you can think about is how disappointingly bad his hair is.  Also, his acting is kind of like this:

I mention this because in the books he's supposed to be devastatingly handsome.  I mean, the whole family is supposed to be so superior in the looks department, because being a vampire makes you gorgeous and appealing to your prey, right?  But he just looks YUCK.  

And this is what he really looks like:

SWEET MOTHER OF SNACK CAKES THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS!!!!  So, if this is the way he really looks, how come they had to make him look like the powdered plastic man?


Hoo...nothing wrong with that last photo.

Oh we even care about the rest of the movie, because I totally want to talk about bad hair, and crop my head into a few more key shots.  

Sigh.  Okay, fine.  I'll sum things up.  So, Bella becomes more and more repulsive in the movie--super scary thin and all circles under the eyes and gaunt and GOLLUM and just plain hideous, thanks to some nifty computer animation tricks.  Like, she looks so gross it will make you feel slightly nauseated.  And Edward's super FURIOUS at her because he would rather she TERMINATE her death-sentence pregnancy than let THAT THING kill her, and Jacob is all in tears too because he WUVS Bella.

OH BUT WAIT!  This is the gayest thing of all.  Jacob's WOLF PACK have decided that THEY have to kill Bella's unborn child thingy, so there's this scene in the movie that is SO ridiculous.  So over the top. So filled with unbelievably bad special effects that my sister and I were nearly in tears of laughter.

I can hardly even do it justice in my description, but picture if you will, all of the super-large wolves gathered in a standoff, Jacob versus the rest of his pack.  They're all snarling at each other, but we, the lucky viewers, get to hear how they all share THOUGHTS.  So, they're all "it has to be killed!" and Jacob is all "NO I WON'T ALLOW IT" and then the pack leader speaks, and this INCREDIBLY STUPID VOICE fills the WHOLE CINEMA.  But where is the voice coming from?  Here?  There?  EVERYWHERE?  MY OWN HEAD?  

No, I can't even talk about it anymore.  You would just have to see it for yourself and experience it in SURROUND SOUND.  

Okay, blah blah, Bella FINALLY has the baby just as the little dickens has snapped her spine in half, and broken several ribs, and basically destroyed her body in the most horror-film type way.  Little baby is born, and is given the most stupidly stupid name that has ever been created, and what do you know, she's super cute!  

AND IN THE MEANTIME, we're not really sure, but we think that Edward had to actually bite Bella's stomach open with his teeth.  His really blunt teeth, because there is nary a fang to be seen in any of these Twilight films.  So, while Edward and Jacob are admiring the be-slimed new baby girl, Bella is basically kicking the bucket BIG TIME.


So that is what Edward does.  He bites her.  Again and again. He bites her neck, her arms, her leg, and each time it makes this good MUNCH noise, and my sister and I are crying again, because I said that Edward has turned Bella into a COB OF CORN.  

Tension, tension, will it work or is it too late....the venom does the trick and Bella, though in a coma, becomes MORE AND MORE GORGEOUS right before our very eyes.  Then they do one of those extreme closeups...

...Bella opens her eyes!


Cue credits.

And a good time was had by all!  

Phew!  Now lets talk about hair.  We are particularly disgusted with Jasper, who is Edward's "brother" in the movie.  His hair is so incredibly bad it just makes us angry.  

Let us celebrate JASPER:

Epic hair fail # 1.  Remember:  we're supposed to believe the Cullens are all incredibly good looking.  Not with THAT lid, buddy.

Epic hair fail #2  Aw hell naw

Epic hair fail #3.  Love this scene. It's from one of the other movies.  You know--when Bella gets the paper cut and Jasper is overcome by blood lust and the need to SHRED HER?  What terrible, stupid hair.

And speaking of hair, when Bella is made a vampire, she gets to remain 18 and beautiful forever.  Ah, isn't that nice?  So then it made me think...what if I had to be 18 forever?  This would be very bad:

Edward:  "Oh my god...what have I done?  I have to spend an ETERNITY with those FREAKING GIANT BANGS....and those eyebrows!  Mon dieu, those eyebrows...."

See what's happening here?  Edward is actually ECLIPSED (ha ha, pun intended--get it, Twi-geeks?) by my bad 80's hair!  I think it would be way better if I were about 31.  I was much cuter when I was 31.  Then I had two kids, and now I just look tired all the time.  See?  31 would be perfect.

And so, my friends, I have made you suffer through the movie just as I suffered through the movie.  But didn't we have FUN!?!

Can't wait for PART 2!

Thursday, December 1, 2011


yeah--you only WISH there were actual fangs

Guess what movie I finally saw this week...

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Girl Child Is Trying To Kill Me

You know what this is?

This is one of those stupid situations that you have in your life that you feel like is NEVER going to end, and then one day it's all over, and suddenly it's YEARS later, and maybe you can sit down and laugh, and say to someone:

"Ha ha!  Remember when my daughter was young and she would NOT stop waking up at FIVE even though it drove me crazy?  And remember how no matter how many times I asked her to just be quiet and not wake anyone up, she'd wake up her brother every day and then HE'D be an unlivable GROUCH for the rest of the day?  Ha! And then I'D be SUPER TIRED ALL DAY, so basically the whole family would be fighting by dinner time?

Remember that?

Remember how I'd feel all in despair because no matter WHAT THE HELL I tried to do, she'd STILL WAKE UP AT THAT STUPID UNGODLY STILL BLACK A$$ CRACK HOUR OF THE DAY?  And Then SHE'D be so tired by noon that she was unbearable, and when I came to get her after school it would be TANTRUM CITY???

That was funny eh?  I thought it would NEVER END!"


So, my daughter is an early riser.  She wakes up at a stupid time.  I can call it stupid because a) we're not FARMERS and b) we're not GO-GETTERS.  Therefore, any hour with the number 5 in front of it is RIDICULOUS.

I know what you're going to say, some of you, and seriously?  It will bring me NO comfort.  You're going to say; "karen, I'm one of those people that will drive you crazy because I actually LIKE getting up at FIVE.  Tee hee!  Yes, but karen, I get up at FIVE so I can have some peace and quiet before all the kids get up."

And that's fine.  I can dig that.  I respect it.  Why?  Because YOU are probably not up singing Justin Bieber tunes as loud as you can, and reorganizing the VALLEY OF THE DOLLS in your bedroom.  You know--you need to get up and set up Barbie's apartment by DROPPING most of the furniture on the hardwood floor?

No.  You probably put on slippers so your feet would make barely any noise, stealthily made yourself a hot beverage, and sat in front of the computer quietly reading some news.


maybe you got up, slipped on your SPORT GEAR closed the door with a quiet "shnick" and headed off for a jog.


you slipped out of bed to do some ZEN YOGA, but nobody even realised you were up.

I think I'm actually ready to give up.

Yes, I, karen Somethingorother, am ready to give up.  And I never give up.  NEVER!  NEVER SURRENDER UNTIL YOU'RE UNDER THE DIRT PEOPLE!!!

I have googled what to do when your little person is an early bird.  I have put a digital clock in her room and had the nice little conversation:

Rational me:  "see this Ella?  What number is this?  It's a 4, right?  If you see a 4, 5, or a 6, then you say 'oops! It's still NIGHT TIME!  I'm going to go back to sleep!' and then you stay in bed until the clock says 7, okay honey?"

That worked a couple of times.  Then it stopped working.  So I changed it to her being allowed to come downstairs at 6:30.  Then it was 6:00.  Then it got changed to "just be QUIET until 7:00."  Then it was "DON'T WAKE YOUR BROTHER UP.  YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO GO SNUGGLE WITH YOUR BROTHER UNTIL IT'S 7:00."

I tried keeping her awake till after 8 PM.

I tried adjusting the times the airconditioner/furnace would come on, so it wouldn't start the waking up process.

I tried a night light in her room, hoping that she wouldn't wake up at 4 any more to put her bedside lamp on, thus starting the waking process.

I begged.

I bribed.

I appealed to that psychotic need of a pre-schooler/kindergartener to WIN, WIN, WIN AT EVERYTHING.  Yeah, I told her that if I heard her get up too early, I would win, and if she got up at 7, SHE would win.

That worked once.

Then I pulled out my biggest weapon:

SANTA.  Yes, that's right.  I'm not at all above invoking the power of SANTA as a means of controlling my kids when they're maniacs.

Picture, for example, an epic Saturday SMACK FEST.  There will be some punching, some pinching, and some good old fashioned hair pulling.  Both will be screaming and crying, but neither of them will stay away from each other.


I casually say this:  "Sigh.  Looks like I'm going to have to CALL SANTA."


me:  "but I think he DESERVES to know what's going on."


and then, miraculously:


See?  Genius.

But, I think I've been using that one too much.  And I'm worried that in Ella's eyes Santa will go from this:

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas little ones!  And thanks for the cookies!  They were AWESOME!

to THIS:


So, I have to stop doing that. Besides, it's not working anyway.  What I need to do is go back to my old stand-by:

"The Parents' HOTLINE."

Oh come on.  You've never pretend-phoned THE PARENTS' HOTLINE???  I've mock-phoned THE HOTLINE all the time.  If you don't have kids, you may find it hard to imagine that there are times when you just can not. make. them. stop. fighting.  You get like a minute's respite, and then they're back at it, with the wailing and the freaking and the tattling.

ingenious me:  "That's it.  I'm calling."



Then you flip your cell phone open, and you either move your lips around to make it look like you're talking, if your kids are far enough away, or you actually do talk, like this:

me: "yeah, hi, is this THE HOTLINE?  Yeah, well, I just don't know what to do anymore.  They won't stop fighting.*sigh*  Okay.  I'll try that and see if it works.  Thanks."

And all the while, your kids will be going bananas.


me (saddened):  "No, they're not coming over.  They just said to call again when I feel really sad."

Do you know I once called the hotline, in the lake, at the beach?  Yeah, I actually did the fake phone hand thing, by sticking out my thumb and pointy finger and putting my hand up to my face and pretending to talk.

And it worked.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Today Ella got up at 5:50.  I don't know what time she actually WOKE UP, but there the kids were, with EVERY LIGHT BLAZING AWAY downstairs, and me flipping out of bed all homicidal.  I made Jack go back to bed to try to get a little more sleep.  That poor kid doesn't fall asleep easily at night, and he's super tired if he gets up too early.

But I give up.  I'm thinking that the next plan will be that if she wakes up that early, she has to come straight downstairs and put that idiotic TV on.  I don't know what else to do.

And Santa's sick of me calling him anyway.



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