Category Archives: Cute Kid Quotes

Roh-roh. That’s not a Scooby Snack.

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Yesterday I heard a story on the radio about a Great Dane who had gotten very sick. The owners thought that he had eaten something strange, and so took him to the vet, who performed exploratory surgery. The vet found in the dog’s stomach 43 socks. Happily, the dog is on the mend and is expected to make a full recovery, although one would hope that the owners will find a way to lock up the dirty laundry.

This image stayed with me all day, the image of a Scooby-Doo-like Great Dane furtively sneaking into the laundry bin and munching down every sock he could find. It was sort of like when Homer Simpson was caught on tape eating tulips. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Although, when I told Jake, he was not amused. “Who has 43 socks lying around?” he demanded. “Why did they keep buying new socks?” He has a point. One would think one would notice 43 missing socks, although who knows how long it took to eat so many. Or perhaps they had a very large family with lots of stray socks, but in any case Jake’s question did add a new angle to it. And a little child shall teach us.

Speaking of the little children, yesterday Mark applied to be a school patroller, and if that wasn’t “sunrise, sunset” enough, today Jake got his first phone call from a girl. So it begins!

Also beginning: the countdown to Christmas, apparently. I picked up my copy of the Sears Wish Book and I cannot wait to open it. I’ve been saving it for just the right moment, which I suspect is coming very soon, given that it’s Friday and I have a glass of wine in my hand. Expect many Sears Wish Book posts to come, dear reader.

One might think that I’m a little premature with the countdown to Christmas, but I might as well resign myself to the fact that winter is coming because next week’s forecast calls for snow. Snow! I thought I could hold off another week without buying Mark winter boots – his old ones fit Jake – but no, that cannot be. Today I took the boys to get boots, and I discovered that Mark is now in the last possible children’s size. Next year, it will be MEN’s boots. I will be shopping in the men’s section for him. I need offer no further comment.

Thank you to all who played along with my book game. I haven’t done a giveaway in a while so I decided to draw not one, not two, but three names: StephLove, smothermother, and Valerie Dunsmore – you are all winners! Your prizes will be sent to you as soon as possible (but probably not until later next week).

Happy Friday everyone! I’m throwing a baby shower tomorrow – a baby is in my circle! – and so I’ll be doing lots of baby snuggling and eating, which is a pretty nice way to spend a Saturday, don’t you think? xo

A Mix of Agnes Skinner and Nick Nolte

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It’s been so beautiful, sunny, and warm here and is forecasted to be so for the entire long-term forecast – except for today. Today it’s cool and rainy and the boys are on a field trip to the zoo. Have fun, guys!

This brings to mind the last field trip to the zoo, when Mark was in grade one and he had just recovered from pneumonia, and it poured rain and the zoo was so busy with school field trips that the kids had to eat lunch on a picnic table outside, squatting on the benches so as to not soak the bottoms of their pants. Good times! Thankfully most of the activities will be indoors, but still.

Being soaked to the skin was not one of the risk factors listed in the “Consent and Acknowledgement of Risk” form that I signed, which seems like a terrible oversight. Instead, these are the risk factors that I need to be aware of:

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Horseplay! That’s one I haven’t seen before and believe me, I’ve seen some doozies. Circling back to that last field trip, three years ago, one of the cited risk factors was “Possible Animal Escape From Enclosures” which made me envision children being trampled by rampaging giraffes or being taken prisoner by the gorillas. You will note that “Animal Escape” is not listed this time but “Getting Lost or Separated From The Group” IS. There is no need to be separated from the group UNLESS there are escaped animals chasing you, children.

Wait, what does “Equipment Failure” mean? Does THAT mean possible animal escapes? I feel like I need more detail.

In the package of information for the zoo, there was a specific list of behavioural expectations that I was requested to discuss with my children, no horseplay being one of them. Also: do not run away from the group. I kept reminding them in a sarcastic, sing-song voice all week, Remember, guys, don’t run away from your group! but then I remembered when I volunteered at the museum field trip last year, and I had third-grade children continually running away from the group. Running away from the group is an actual real risk. I get complacent because I know my own children would never run away from their group leader, so I assume all children would be equally obedient, but this is not the case! As I recall, I solved that issue by informing my group that if they didn’t stay together, we would just stand in silence and not see any exhibits until it was time to leave, cementing my status as the “non-fun mom volunteer”. Starting the day hopeful and cheery, ending it sounding like Agnes Skinner and looking like Nick Nolte’s mug shot. This is the summation of nearly all my volunteer activities.

In any case, I hope all goes well and no one gets lost. I tip my hat to the volunteers today. I am – obviously – not one of them, for the humble reason that I have an appointment at the hair salon, and I book my appointments a minimum of three months in advance, so changing them is not always an option. I’m this close to actually looking like Agnes Skinner, so time to get a colour and catch up on my useless and also somehow mind-boggling reading of People magazine. I STILL don’t know why Kim Kardashian is famous.

Speaking of mind-boggling, last week I zipped out to Costco, with my list in my purse. It turns out that one of my children had been writing on my list for reasons of their own. I have no idea what this refers to or why it was on the back of my Costco list, but I’m looking forward to the receipt of my elf tail armor.

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PUPPY!

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So I guess we’re cheering for the Seahawks now?

Patriots

This photo is for the Cake Chick who was appalled to see me in Ravens wear last Superbowl.

 

Even my local old-people Co-Op was on the Patriots (short lived) bandwagon:

TomBrady

What a dreamboat, or, as I usually think of him because I’m apparently 100 years old, “What a good looking young man.”

 

It’s very strange, the whole continent seems to be in some kind of polar vortex/ snowpocalypse, and here in Calgary, things are mild. We’re usually the trendsetters in the polar vortex world, and yet here we are with warmer-than-seasonal temperatures, which is not without its own special difficulties. My elderly neighbour has gotten her vehicle stuck in the soft, melty snow in the alley twice in the last week; once I came home to see her trying to dig herself out, alarmingly, and yesterday I came home to see her son trying – in a futile sort of way – to dig her out. This morning there were three vehicles stuck in the alley, in the ridges left by the garbage trucks. The snow everywhere is melting in the sunshine and then freezing solid, leaving skating rinks for sidewalks and glaciers for lawns.

Sunday afternoon I decided enough was enough – the melting cycle had exposed our back yard for what it is, a dog’s yard – and I went out with a trowel in one hand and bags in the other, determined to tackle the unsightly mess. I’m happy enough with the warmer temperatures but the picturesque quality of the snowy backyard is gone, and in its place is glacier like snow speckled with dirt, pine needles, and frozen canine fecal matter. I tried my best but sadly most of Barkley’s offerings to the atmosphere were frozen solid and would have needed an ice pick to be chipped away. I sighed, wondering what was the point.

What was the point? That’s a terrible attitude to have. In these cases, I always think of my friend Swistle and her “drops IN the bucket“. They may be drops in the bucket, but they are still IN the bucket, and IN > NOT IN. I think this is a good attitude to have, because no, it does not need to be all or nothing. Just because I couldn’t clean up the entire yard doesn’t mean I should shrug and let the frozen fecal matter take over. A handful of minty M&M’s doesn’t mean that the whole day of healthy eating is ruined and I might as well eat all the snack bags of Doritos that are sitting in the kids’ Halloween bags (STILL, yes, it is January). This is a basic mathematical principle, people. Handful of minty M&M’s >>>> eating everything in the house. Small steps DO add up and so while it may feel pointless to sweep up all the pine needles on the floor knowing that the dog is just going to track in MORE pine needles momentarily, it still makes a difference. After all if I never swept up the pine needles, eventually we would be ankle deep in them. Have I mentioned Barkley is very furry this time of year and everything sticks to his gigantically fluffy body?

Last night I had a dream that we got another puppy. I blame my friend Sue for sending me this link of the cutest puppies on the internet. Go take a look, I’ll wait.

I showed the photos to the boys, who were appropriately “awwwwwwwed” by the photos, even while Jake was indignant that Barkley was not among them. They’re cute, he said somewhat grudgingly, But Barkley is cuter than all of them put together.

Without any further ado, then, I give you Barkley: The Puppy Days.

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Jake’s right, I think.

Happy New Year! Happy New Look!

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Mark was peeling an orange and accidentally dropped a piece of peel on the floor; I managed to rescue it mere milliseconds before the dog pounced. I took that opportunity to tiresomely remind the children to be careful because food dropped on the floor could make Barkley sick. I finished with “The only thing worse than a barfing dog is a barfing kid.” Mark thoughtfully followed that up with “And the only thing worse than a barfing kid is a barfing mom!” True enough, however, the conversation turned to the possibility of a barfing dad, which to me is even WORSE. The kids didn’t think so. As they pointed out, Dad’s not home all day anyway, so if he’s sick, no big deal. If MOM is sick though…

While I appreciate the sentiment of my own indispensability to household harmony, I also recognized that during the Christmas holidays, the title of Most Important Parent is not mine. Mostly this is because of my complete inability to figure things out on the Wii or to put Lego together. For a few solid days, every few minutes I’d hear “Dad! DAAAAD! Can you help me?” followed up by a request to a) get to the next level, or b) put something together with Lego. Truth be told, the children do not want me to even touch their Lego, and shoo me away from it whenever I stop by to “help”.

But my husband is now back to work, and most of the Lego is already put together, and it’s time we start slowly getting back to regular routines, with regular food and with putting regular clothes on prior to “after lunch”. The boys are still sharing a room; Christmas Eve we moved Jake’s bed into Mark’s room, as per our tradition, and they are loathe to end this sleepover atmosphere. I’m happy they enjoy being together, but their chatter goes late into the night, or what passes for it at my house: anything after 9:30 pm.

Did you make any resolutions this year? I made some usual ones: to read more, write more, play the piano more, that sort of thing. One of my favourite resolutions came from an old friend who resolved to wear her nice shoes and carry her nice handbags more, which I think is brilliant. Don’t we all feel better when we look better? On that note, yesterday I put on my nice new sweater dress I bought at a 60% off Boxing Day sale, and some sassy high heeled boots, and went to the mall to buy makeup and socks.

sweaterdress

Things to note about this picture: Barkley has a need to sniff my leg frantically whenever I change shoes, and you can see the fuzzy burgundy slipper I’ve discarded to make way for my high heeled boots. It felt great to get dressed up, albeit for a pretty lame errand, but I think tomorrow I’m going to laze around in yoga pants with lots of coffee and maybe an episode of the Price is Right. After all, the break is almost over and I should probably have a resolution to the effect of savour every moment or something like that. In any case, I call Lazy Day tomorrow.

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Happy New Year to me! I’m so pleased with my new blog design, many thanks to my dear, longtime friend Marilyn at Cursive Web. Don’t you just love it?

 

Nicolemania and Beatlemania

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This is where I spent the vast majority of my week:

Every year – twice a year – leading up to the book fair I feel deflated and exhausted and think this is IT. This is the LAST TIME I’m running the book fair. Then, after running the book fair, raising thousands of dollars for the school library, and feeling universal adulation and love from the student body, who call after me while I’m walking through the playground, like I’m Jennifer Lawrence and the students are the paparazzi, “Hey, it’s the book fair lady! Hiiiiii book fair lady! Hiiiii! I love my book about zombies/ Diary of a Wimpy Kid/ Pete the Cat/ Lego Friends.”, I feel like I can keep on keeping on. My friend’s son, who is in fifth grade, thanked me in a very formal and polite way for all my “time and efforts” to “make this book fair possible.”

So that’s nice. I feel good about that; much better than how I felt when I read over my emails last night. Remember the kazoos? The kazoo playing at the school’s 50th anniversary assembly? The kazoos are going to be played as part of a performance by my children of the song YELLOW SUBMARINE. I feel a great deal of despair about this for a number of reasons, one of which is I haaaaaaate that song with a passion. Also, kazoos. 

All this 50th anniversary festivity is – somehow? – connected with the advent of Beatlemania, which Mark’s teacher seems to be embracing with passion. He was assigned to write down five Beatles’ facts and five Beatles’ songs. I was trying to help him with these facts, keeping things empirical rather than subjective, but my husband was home, and the result was somewhat disastrous.

Me: They were known as the Mop Tops! Isn’t that funny? Their hair was considered to be crazy back then!

Mr: Paul sucks.

Me: That’s not appropriate.

Mr: Paul DOES suck. He still writes songs like he did fifty years ago. They suck.

Me: I liked him in Wings.

Mark: What’s Wings?

Me: Another band. Let’s keep going. The band broke up in 1970.

Mark: Why did they break up?

Mr: Because of a chick! She was nuts though.

Me: SERIOUSLY. Let’s keep on topic.

Mark: Who was the chick? Was she pretty?

Me: The WOMAN was Yoko Ono. She was John’s girlfriend. I guess she didn’t really like the other Beatles.

Mark: Some girls do NOT like their crushes to hang out with their friends.

Mr: Exactly.

Mark: *writing* They also went to India a lot.

Mr: They went to India and did a lot of drugs and went crazy.

Mark: I don’t think I should write that. *writes They went to India and got groovy.*

Me: *sigh* How about some songs? I like Golden Slumbers.

Mark: I’ll tell you one thing, I HATE Yellow Submarine.

Me and Mr: Good boy.

http://www.thecomicstrips.com/store/add.php?iid=100655
Image from thecomicstrips.com

  
My friend sent me this comic strip and YES. Although, we all know how I feel about Tom Petty. Or do you? My darling friend Stephanie tagged me on Facebook to play that game where you tell random things about yourself. She gave me the number 8, so I have eight things to tell you about! It seemed too long for a status update, and so I have crafted it seamlessly into a blog post. Also it’s Friday, I’ve been at the book fair all week, and although I haven’t cracked open the wine yet – it’s only 11:30 in the morning – I feel like I happily COULD. It’s been that kind of week. Without further ado, here is my list.

Eight Random Things About Nicole

1) I really, really can’t stand Tom Petty’s music. Do you see what I did there? I didn’t say “I hate Tom Petty” because my dad always said “You don’t HATE anybody” to which I would respond “How about Hitler, Dad? Can’t I hate Hitler? Dad? Hitler? I hate him! So I CAN hate somebody.” Yes, I was a delight of a child. Anyway, I don’t like to be super negative about a person – a celebrity is still a person, I say from my glowing book-fair-lady-celebrity – and so I will say I DO NOT ENJOY HIS MUSIC. For all I know, Tom Petty is the world’s nicest guy.

2) I do enjoy a wide variety of music. Eclectic, if you will. I love motown and fat caped glittery Elvis, I love disco and 1970’s ballads, I love hippie music from the 70s, I love catchy 80s tunes and “alternative” 80s music, which makes me nostalgic for my youth, I love old-skool rap from the 90s and hip-hop and reggae (I don’t like reggae. I love it.) I have an incredible memory for lyrics which makes me think that I could probably do a lot more with my life, if the space in my brain which knows the words to every song ever recorded was devoted to something, you know, useful.

3) I wear the colour black all the time. I almost always have something black on. This habit dates back to my youth, which I probably shouldn’t admit to.

4) Sometimes – not often, thankfully – I find myself having conversations that go like the SNL carpool sketch with Alec Baldwin and Kristin Wiig, which is my favourite sketch ever, but less fun in real life.

5) I always, without exception, choke up when singing the following songs: Landslide, Foolish Games, and How Great Thou Art.

6) I often put on my jammies by 7:00 pm on weekdays. This means that during the week my husband frequently sees me in one of two outfits: a) sweaty yoga clothes first thing in the morning, and b) plaid jammies with a picture of Snoopy on them. This is marriage, kids. As my young friend Emily says when she sees a particularly unflattering outfit, “Those are married lady pants.” I’M SURE HE FINDS ME EXTREMELY SEXY IN MY MARRIED LADY PANTS THAT HAVE SNOOPY ON THEM, EMILY.

7) Despite this, with the exception of 5 am yoga, I never leave the house without makeup on and my hair done. NEVER. I walk the dog with lipstick on, I fancy myself up to go to the Co-Op. I’m totally going to be one of those scary old ladies with bright orange hair, lipstick bleeding into my lip lines, clouds of Chanel No. 5, and super fancy matching earrings/ necklace/ bracelet sets, who get all gussied up to go down to the residents’ lounge to play canasta. Note: need to learn to play canasta sometime in the next forty years.

8) When I was in Grade 11, I was Amanda Wingfield in the school production of  The Glass Menagerie. I rocked out a Southern accent like nobody’s business. I feel that I was born in the wrong place. I think I would have made an excellent Southern lady. I secretly LOVE when people refer to me as “Ma’am”.

So now it’s your turn! Instead of tagging people on Facebook, I’m going to tag bloggers to tell random numbers of things about themselves. Who wants to start? I’ll give you…six!

I Dreamed A Dream

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“Mom, do you have a dream?” Mark asked over breakfast the other day. I was only on my first cup of coffee so I wondered if he wanted to know what I dreamed about last night. I didn’t want to tell him I had a nightmare about a mouse crawling on the ceiling and then falling off into my bed, causing me to wake up with my sheets soaking wet with a freight train running through the middle of my head, or that I had a sexy dream about his father, and so I answered sort of vaguely. “No, I mean, do you have a DREAM. Like something you want.” He paused a moment, and then said quickly in a completely neutral voice “And please don’t say you want two awesome boys and wow, you already have them.” Jake chimed in, “Yeah! That’s what you always say.”

I told them that I always wanted a fluffy brown dog named Barkley, and they groaned. “Don’t you have a dream about doing something?” Mark asked. “Like, maybe making good caramel apples?”

That’s pretty rich coming from a kid whose attempt at making a bass guitar was a ripped kleenex box with a broken rubber band on it. On a related note, we had this conversation yesterday:

Mark: Guess who had the best social studies title page in the class?

Me: I’m guessing it wasn’t you.

Mark: You’re right. It wasn’t.

Jake: Me either! I suck at drawing.

Well, it’s good to have an accurate view of your strengths and weaknesses, no?

This has been a strange, very busy week. The kids had a PD day on Monday. Why, you may ask, why did they have the day off when the past Monday was Thanksgiving and why didn’t they have the PD day on the Friday before Thanksgiving the way they always do, why, why, why? Well, they did, and two four-day weeks in a row makes for a strange week. Besides, it’s the Halloween Family Dance tonight and it is, without a question of a doubt, the highlight of the school year for my kids. It’s all downhill from here, guys. I’ve been busy preparing for this as my girlfriend and I are coordinating a silent auction as a fundraiser, and in addition to the usual busyness that accompanies such an event, I’ve also been planning my costume. My friend and I are going as witches. But not like this:

Photo from partycity.com. This costume is on sale for FOURTEEN DOLLARS. A steal!


or this

Photo from partycity.com. This is the Sparkle Playboy Witch, which seems like an accurate name.

or even this.

Photo from partycity.com. Wear a good pair of panties if you wear this costume.

I’m not even sure that last one IS a witch. In any case, we will be regular mom-like witches tonight. At least for the dance…I’m thinking I might break out that $14 outfit for a little private Halloween party, if you know what I’m saying.

I kid. If I’m having a private Halloween party, I’m going to dress up like Fiona from Shrek.

Photo from partycity.com. I’m not kidding, you guys, this is Fiona from Shrek.
GO CHECK OUT THE PARTY CITY WEBSITE CLEARANCE SECTION. It’s a scream!

I love this time of year. It’s so much fun to look at costume websites and wonder just who is going to order them. They are almost always sold out of at least one size, so people ARE buying them. Clearly I don’t go to enough (or any, really) Halloween parties because I’m always amazed by the costumes. Can you imagine going to a party and seeing this?

Photo from partycity.com. This is $105!

MAYBE one might see this at a key party. Or hey, if you’re undecided this Marvin the Martian outfit is only $35!

Photo from partycity.com

Hilarious, yet kind of depressing, no? Go ahead and look at any costume website; the teen girl section is made up mostly of smaller versions of the skeezy looking women’s section. Whatever happened to getting your mom to make you a dress to look like Morticia Addams?

If I’m being totally honest, I would have totally worn some of those super short costumes when I was a teenager, if buying costumes was a thing back then and if I made more than $4/ hour working at Pizza Hut. I also would have probably given my father a heart attack, but then, that’s what teenage girls are for. Every single time my husband sees a teenage girl, he says “Somewhere, there is a dad going grey.”

Moar Happyer; A Diversion

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“I don’t get it,” Mark said from the back of the minivan, the minivan that was rocking with hip tunes from the seventies.  “Why does that guy want to be a Fireside Girl?”  “Maybe he wants to sell those cupcakes or get badges.” Jake suggested.

For reference, this was the song that was on the radio.  I know, I should really listen to more current music, and I DO, I really do.  But sometimes I need a break from accidentally belting out the uncensored lyrics to “Thrift Shop” in front of my kids.  “Mom, that word is really bad.  It’s even worse than FRICKING.  It means the same thing as this,” the kids will say in their best reprimanding manner, raising their middle fingers so I can see for myself just how inappropriate it is.

In other words, I’ll keep my old-people radio station that advertises for Grey Power Insurance.  Related: it’s almost my birthday!  Time to break out the tiara, drink lots of wine, and eat cake!  So, pretty much like every weekend.  Last birthday I celebrated turning-older-than-Mrs-Robinson; this year is kind of anti-climactic since I don’t know what cougarish fictional character I’m going to be older than.  I have a good ten years before I will be older than Dallas from Suburgatory.

Although I do have one of these foam fingers, only it’s green:

My foam finger is highly underutilized in the bedroom department, however.
Speaking of sexytimes, Barkley has finally stopped attempting to, ahem, dominate a certain little Shih tzu dog named Freddie at the off leash park.  This is big news.  It is also the end of a short lived, yet very embarrassing era in which I would have to grab Barkley’s collar, yelling “Barkley, NO!” while simultaneously apologizing to the older lady to whom Freddie belongs.  I was somewhat curious why Barkley continued to try to have his way with Freddie given that a) Barkley is a eunich, and b) Freddie is male.  Perhaps Barkley is gay?  My friend Nan informed me that if Barkley is gay, then her dog, who regularly attempted to dominate pillows in a similar manner for many months, must be a foamosexual.
Foamosexual.  It’s a word that never fails to make me smile, although now that I posted a picture of a foam finger, it’s kind of disturbing.
Other cheerful things that are happening around here: Jake told me he loves school, and that is because in his mind school is a video game and whenever he accomplishes a goal or a difficult task, he considers it a “level completed”.  I feel like something is a bit off with that, but whatever works.  Level up, buddy.  Mark is finishing his last swim class today and I’m fairly sure he did not “level up”, as it were.  “I’m the slowest swimmer in my class!” he told me, to which I did NOT respond that I was consistently the second worst athlete in every single phys ed class growing up.  He should just be glad I procreated with his “Award of Excellence” father, just to get some athleticism genes.  I mean, that’s not the only reason I procreated with him.  He’s number one!  *raises foam finger*
It is also “Tacky Tourist” day at school, and I for one welcome this dress-up day as being much, much easier than “Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up” day or “Dress As Your Favourite Storybook Character” day, both of leave me bemused and devoid of all creative ideas.  At least, I thought it was easy.  This is what they looked like this morning:
Of course, we got to school and all the kids had crazy straw hats and sunglasses and cabana wear but STILL.  Maui t-shirts count for something, I think.