I Heart Easter

Easter is Coming! 

I love the fresh colours, the promise of spring, the good food, the Easter Egg Hunts….its all good.

This year I made an arrangement of branches stolen from the bushes surrounding our local park and hung Easter Eggs on them a la ‘Auntie Katie’. 
I went for a walk last week and in my hand I had a pair of clippers wrapped up in a cloth grocery bag.  I felt a bit weird, to be honest, like I might be a murderer walking around with this weapon all wrapped up in the bag.  I wondered if they might find ‘the murder weapon’ lying on the side of the road the next day and what catastrophe preceded that finding.  My imagination goes on overdrive sometimes.  But still.  It was unusual to be going out for a walk, alone, with concealed clippers in my hand.  And I did console myself that if I was attacked somewhere along the route I would have some means of defense.  I bet those clippers could do a lot of damage. 

Anyways, I did my walk and then ended up at the ‘Up Park’ as we call it.  Mostly because it’s slightly up the hill from our house as opposed to the ‘Down Park’ which is (you guessed it!) down the street from us.   Apparently the Down Park actually has a real name now but it’s too late, Up Park and Down Park are what they will always be known as to us.

So there I was, at the Up Park, which is currently bordered by a piece of property that is owned by the City and is the future site of an elementary school and so sits wild and uninhabited.  Conveniently there are these plants (shrubs?) along the edge that are branchlike and had these little buds on them that open up into little pink flowers. I casually unwrapped my deadly clippers and started snipping off branches here and there and surreptiousley sticking them in my cloth grocery bag.  I had brought the biggest bag I could find but the tips of the branches did still stick out.  I’m not sure if what I was doing was illegal or not – I convinced myself that I was actually doing the City a favour by doing some light pruning.  That’s what I was going to tell the angry citizen that might approach me and question my snipping.  Fortunately no one approached me and I finished my clipping and headed home with my bag of clippings.  I wished there was someone in the car waiting for me and I could shriek “Start the car!  Start the car!”  like the IKEA commercial because that’s exactly how I felt.  Of course we live just a block down from the park so there was no car waiting for me but I did walk very quickly the rest of the way home.

I put my possibly-illegally gained clippings in a vase and hung some easter eggs on them and placed my beautiful display on our dining table.  It looks beautiful and I love it.  I will try to remember to post a picture of it sometime this weekend. J

And here it is! 

 

This weekend I have also promised my dear Miss H that we will decorate Easter Eggs.  I bought the traditional PAS decorating kit – one that makes Glitter Eggs – and the dozen white eggs and so we’re set.  The only thing I’m himming and hawing about is if I should take the easy route and just boil the eggs or take the more labour intensive route and blow them out so we can actually keep the eggs for years to come.   Do you boil or blow?  That sound both illegal and/or dirty doesn’t it?  Heeehee.

Also on the agenda for this weekend is the annual baking of the Paska.  Mmmmm.  H has already asked me to make an extra batch this year because she’s certain one batch will just not be enough.   It’s safe to say she’s a paska lover.  Me too.  Sadly I’ll be on my detox  which does not allow wheat or milk but that’s probably all for the best.   Ha – I’ll probably only have to make the one batch then, after all!

All of that squeezed in with Girl Guide cookie selling, welcoming M home from my parents’ house, going on my Birthday Date, more cookie selling, H’s friend’s birthday party, and the Easter Family Gathering!  Oh yeah, and I have to head in to work for a few hours on Sunday.  We’ll be non-stop for the next 48 hours I do believe – should be fun!

Yay Easter! 

Stories of Rats

Since Hope was really little I have occasionally made up stories for her at bedtime instead of reading them to her.  Growing up my dad would be the best story teller (remember Gomer Pile and the fly, dad?) and I imagine a little of that has rubbed off on me. 

There are two series that I have sort of evolved – one is about a Princess and her Unicorn and the other is about Two Rats named Ratsy and Softy that live in our basement and the adventures that they have. 

So, obviously Miss H knows that the Princess and her Unicorn are completely fictional; however the Two Rats stories sort of blur the line.  You see, they live in our house (so the story goes) and they have adventures with our cats and they try to avoid the family, etc…

It’s really funny because one night, I told her a story about Ratsy and how he had noticed a bald spot and to fix it he had  chewed some grey fur off of Miss H’s teddy bear and glued it on to his head and then of course his misadventures in getting it to stay on.  Well I kid you not, the next day we were playing in the basement (where their hidey-hole is allegedly located) and there on the floor in H’s playroom is a tuft of grey fur.  I have no idea where it came from or how it got there but Miss H spied it and pounced on it, holding it up and saying “It’s Ratsy’s!!!”  Definitive proof that the rats were indeed real. 

Miss H has been known to leave out treats for the rats and will look for crumbs and foot prints the next morning.  I may or may not (ahem) arrange evidence to look as though the rats were there.  It’s fun, you know?

Except then this situation happens:

The other day, I am taking Miss H and her friend to the park to splash in the little stream there.  On the way we happen to pass a dude who is holding a large white rat.  Of course Miss H stops – she is transfixed.

“Is that a rat?” she asks.

“Yes” he confirms

“Is he your pet?” 

“Yes”

“We have two rats at our house.  They live in our basement.”  She says.

The guy looks at me over H’s head and says, “Really?”

I shake my head slightly and mouth no.  I’m horrified this guy thinks we’re harbouring wild rats in our basement.

But H has no such inhibitions.

“Yup, REALLY.” She insists. 

Oh dear Lord.  I’m in a bind now.  Admit to this random guy that we have rats in our basement or admit to my dear girl that the whole story is a lie and that Ratsy and Softy don’t really exist. 

He looks at me again.  Good thing Miss H is too absorbed in petting his rat, she misses my vigorous head shakes of denial. 

He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“C’mon girls!”  I say. “Time to go!!” 

Lets get the hell out of here, I’m thinking to myself before this gets worse.

And so we leave. 

And of course H insists on a Ratsy and Softy story that night. 

All I can say is – Thanks a lot, dad.  I’m blaming this all on you because….well, if your stories hadn’t been so good I would probably not be misleading my daughter with my own stories.

Hmmph.

My Boy

You my best friend, mommy.  My best friend, right Mommy?

He was saying to me as he wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck pulling me down in a big hug as I tucked him in to bed last night.

Ahhh….my heart….there it goes – a big pile of mush on the floor.  That he said those same words to my husband and also to his nanny does not matter one little bit.  At that moment, I was his best friend.  

He is, without a doubt, the cutest boy I have ever met.  His exchanging the ‘TH’ sound for ‘f’ only makes him more adorable.  “You firsty mama?  You firsty?”  or “Fank you!” as I hand him his cup of juice.  He tries so hard to get that ‘th’ sound. 

“Mama, somefings on my mouf…ff….fff…”  he keeps trying to spit out that last sound.   Adorable.  Absolutely.  He slays me daily.

When we have company over for dinner, ever the perfect little host he lifts his hand to the guest, tilts his head and asks “You like it?  You like it?  You love it?”

 “Lets pray” he says, folding his hands at the dinner table.  “Fank you Jesus…mumble mumble….Amen!”

“You wanna play toys with me?” he asks taking my hand to bring me to his toy basket. “Come on!  Let’s play toys!”

He loves to hold hands.  If we’re going somewhere together, we’re going hand in hand.  His little hand fits so trustingly in my bigger one.  Up the stairs, down the stairs, down the hall, into the washroom.  Wherever.

He loves to look and books and has a few memorized already – most notably The Hungry Caterpillar.  “He still hungry!?” M looks at me wonderingly like how could this caterpillar be still hungry after four plums. 

He loves to share when he farts.  And if asked, “M did you fart?”  “Yup!  Me did!” he happily admits.  Or if on the rare chance it was someone else “Nope!  Me didn’t!”

When he has something to show me he says “Come on!  You show me!” 

And of course, just like any man, always looking for a congratulations on a job well done.  Or “Me big helper, right?  Big Helper.” or

“Me big boy, right, Mommy?  Me big boy.  You big boy, too, Mommy.”     At least he’s willing to return the praise, right?!

He’s at my mom and dad’s this week.  And I miss him.  Like CRAZY.  So does Miss H.  She started crying yesterday evening.  I guess it was just too quiet without the little man.  She kept saying how much she missed his help when setting the table, never mind that just yesterday she was tempted to brain the poor boy for keeping on getting in her way.  Oh wait, that was me. 

Regardless, we’ll all be happy to have him back home on Saturday charming us all over again

Shopping for EyeGlasses

So in the last few months I’ve been getting steadily more aware of the effort it was taking for me to see things clearly.  If I took a quick glance at the alarm clock across the room, I was unable to make out the time, but after taking a second to focus, it would become clear.

I decided to go to get my eyes checked to see what was going on and sure enough, I need a prescription.  Mostly for my left eye but a little bit for my right eye, too.

I tried on a few pairs of glasses at the eye doctors, but nothing was quite right so I left, prescription in hand.  That was a few weeks ago.

Things have been pretty hectic for me – I had to go into work a few weekends in a row – so I didn’t have the time to spend trying on glasses until yesterday.  I took H to the mall intent on find the perfect pair of glasses.  Ones that I would want to wear day in and day out. 

First stop – Lens Crafters.  I gotta tell you, it looked promising – we stopped at the glasses by Tiffany and the first pair I tried on…they were glamorous.  Sigh.  Then the sales girl approached and asked if she could help me.  I said yes and then asked how much the lenses were because there were big signs saying 50% off lenses.

The sales girl told me they were $170.  That was the sale price. 

“That’s the SALE price?”  I exploded… 

You know those times when you’re watching yourself and thinking “stop talking…walk away…what the HELL are you saying? Stop!  Stop!”  and yet you watch yourself carry on…

Maybe this doesn’t happen to you but it does to me – with sadly frequent regularity. 

So there I was with my little girl, unable to stop the words spewing from my mouth….

“You know”, I said, “the doctor’s office where I had my eyes checked only charged $130 for lenses.”  I pause for effect...”and that’s the FULL PRICE!”

The poor sales girl starts explaining how wonderful lenscrafter lenses are and that they come with the anti-glare special coating…   Her explanation fell on deaf ears. 

I informed her that at my eye doctor’s office, those lenses come with anti-glare coating too.  INCLUDED in the $130.00.

You can just see me right – the customer that every salesperson can’t stand.

I self-righteously told her that there was NO WAY I could possibly shop at LensCrafter with those ridiculous prices. 

Then me and my girl flounced out of LensCrafters and went to find the other eye glass shop in the mall. 

We spent a good hour looking at every pair of glasses in the place.  And wouldn’t you know – the right pair of glasses did not exist there.  AND their full price for lenses was $170, so it’s not like it would be cheaper there anyways.

The tops of my ears were sore from trying on so many pairs of glasses and I felt beyond defeated and dammit…now I was going to have to go to LensCrafters.

Just not that day, cause that would be more crow than I could handle.

Maybe Wednesday I’ll try again.  At LensCrafters.  Hopefully their sale will still be on because I really could not bear to pay $340 just for lenses.