Monday, August 25, 2008

Get Well Soon, Dear Friend

Today was going to be the day when I got back into my writing, I was going to work on my languishing sci fi novel, I was going to write hundreds, maybe even thousands of words.  Whole chapters of award-worthy brilliance were going to spring onto the screen through my zealously typing fingers.  After I played my new computer game for a few minutes of course.

In the middle of a rousing game of computer Clue (which I'm sure I would have won, thus earning me a Colonel Mustard badge), my computer suddenly shut down.  Now worries, said I, she can be temperamental.  I booted her back up.  The computer tower buzzed to life.  It whirred and beeped and blinked and all the other things a computer does when the elves inside are initiating the launch sequence.   The monitor, on the other hand, feebly flashed a blank screen at me.

I booted her up again.  Again the tower did its diligent job of noisily coming to life, again the monitor disappointed.

I flicked the power bar on and off, thinking that maybe hitting the on/off switch on the tower wasn't enough to REALLY boot her up.  No success.

I called tech support (my husband) who suggested that perhaps the video card had overheated and the computer just "needed a rest". I turned off the computer and let it rest while I did the laundry, coloured with Mr. William, and played race the matchbox cars.  I turned it on again with no luck.

Having no idea what to do in a computerless house, Mr. William and I went to the Early Years Centre.  When we came home, the computer was still broke, and William was ready for a nap.  

Now my son is napping, and I am using my husband's Mac, which has one of those pretentious brushed steel keyboards, and an annoying trackball mouse.  Also being a Mac, you can't right-click anything and the commands to cut and paste stuff are all wrong.  And you can't play my games.  Or load my files.

Sigh.... I miss my 'puter.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Morty the Jackapoo: Day One

My parents went to a friend's cottage for a few days and (since there will be a cat in attendance) Morty the Jackapoo was not invited. So I get to be substitute Dog-mommy for the rest of the week. Morty is a small, but high-jumping dog, who my parents walk 500 times a day, and who my mother feels needs a sitter even if they are only gone for two hours.

This morning William and I had to go to our registered program at the Early Years Centre just after Mom and Dad dropped the pup off. The program basically involves William running around with other toddlers, doing a craft (if he feels like it), eating a snack (sometimes even his own), and running around some more until he's so exhausted that he might actually sit for songs in circle time. William falls asleep in the car on the way home.

My main concern this morning: there is a high-jumping jackapoo in the house; will he wake the baby? As I was carrying my sleeping baby into the house, sure enough there was Morty, leaping and licking. I tried to shield William with my body, but Morty was too quick, tickling William's toes with his tongue. William giggled, but miraculously stayed asleep.

Then, about a minute after I lay William down in his crib, Morty barked. My son did not wake up. It appears I underestimated the sedative powers of an Early Years Centre Program!

Morty's attempts to wake William having been unsuccessful, he now has to wait at least an hour, maybe two, before I can take him for a walk. Poor little Morty, not as many walkies to be had at Auntie Jen's house.

(and now to inspect the house for chewed baby toys)

Monday, August 11, 2008

Congratulations Eireann and Craig!

Here's something I should have blogged about days ago. My bestest brother Craig and my bestest friend Eireann got married on Saturday. As you can see, Eireann looked gorgeous (she always does, but there is something about the whole bride get-up that brings beautiful to a whole new level). Oh and my brother looked pretty good too.

They say that rain is good luck on your wedding day. If that's true, Eireann and Craig must be the luckiest couple in the universe. Torrential downpoars (mother nature didn't get the memo that it's August) forced us to have the wedding indoors (instead of under the terrace where we'd planned). Thanks to a parade of umbrellas, none of the girls ruined our dresses or hair. But the father of the bride, and the youngest groomsman, came out a little damp.

We walked down the aisle to the sound of bagpipes and, after a short ceremony, we were all ready to take off our shoes. Of course we had to have pictures taken first, and then ate deep fried pickles (and some other stuff), and then had a receiving line, but by the time the speeches started and dinner was served, I was barefoot. (Heels are for girls).

We had a great time dancing the night away. Especially since William was staying over at his Babcia's and we didn't have to worry about him until the next day. When the party was over Adam and I drove the happy couple to Niagara Falls, where they will spend honeymoon #1. Honeymoon #2 will take place next week in sunny Greece.

Congratulations guys! Oh, and Eireann, if you're reading this, I still have your dress.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Cranky Daze

Yesterday was a cranky day, kind of day when the boss is never satisfied, no matter how many mini-croissants, crackers, and plums he gets. He just keeps on whining and scowling and pointing at "what he wants" as if it is a very important nothing in particular.

It was the kind of day that tests my motherly patience, where nothing, not even going out to the Early Years Centre, can ease my stress.

It was the kind of day that calls for delicious homemade pizza. I got a pre-made crust, covered it with sauce and shredded cheese and pepperoni. I sauteed some mushrooms and onions and green peppers to put on top. It was going to be the most beautiful pizza in the history of time. But I left it under the broiler too long and it burnt to a crisp.

The sight of my blackened would-be masterpiece actually brought me to tears. It also set off the smoke detector, which sent my already cranky toddler into histeria. It was then that I called my husband and informed him that he had to leave work IMMEDIATELY and that he was not allowed to work late. He left right away and was home an hour later.

We went to Swiss Chalet, where an elderly waitress was too busy to properly take our drink orders. She came by to say they were out of the 7up my husband ordered, but didn't stop long enough to ask what else he might have wanted. Later, our food arrived, but not William's. The main purpose in ordering food for a baby is so he'll have a better chance of keeping quiet while we eat (it's not as if he was actually hungry, as it was well past his usual dinner time). His food arrived, too hot for him to eat, a full ten minutes after ours. What kind of family establishment has logic like that?

When we got home, I asked Adam to put William to bed to give me a much needed break. At that exact moment, a water heater guy came to our door and occupied my husband's time long enough for me too put in a load of laundry, change a poopy diaper, fill the bath tub, and begin washing a tired, cranky, toddler.

It took some talking to convince my husband that getting our son dried off, dressed and reading him stories, was actually part of the bedtime routine he agreed to, but finally he did and I went off to do grown up things.

Later, when I was sound asleep at 5 am, William woke up, crying for no particular reason. I changed his diaper, gave him a sippy cup (which he refused), and lay down beside him so that he would go back to sleep. Apparently my lying on a not-particularly-comfy mattress beside his crib was exactly what he wanted. Every time I thought he was asleep and tried to leave, he would leap up and start screaming anew.

Finally, I crawled back into my own bed at 6:30am. Getting myself back to sleep proved even more difficult that getting William back to sleep. My breakfast instinct had kicked in, so I had to eat a fruitcup to quiet my stomach. By then I wasn't sleepy in the slightest (though still incredibly tired). I finally did drift off about a minute before my husband had to leave for work, which meant I had to wake up, with no shower to assist in my reanimation process.

I just called my mother and woke her up (at 9:30! I'm so jealous) and begged her to come over to let me shower. Of course, if I leave William alone for even five minutes to clean myself, when I come back he will be on top of the kitchen table, or in the dishwasher, or playing with something he pulled out of the garbage.
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