Friday, October 31, 2008

Halloweenies

I always thought there were two types of people in the world...crazy Halloween people and, well, everybody else. I'm pretty sure we all know a crazy Halloweenie...someone who lists the day as their favourite holiday and starts planning next costume in early summer. 

I am not one of those people. 

After my trick or treating days were done, and Halloween became a day to only dress up for zero reward, what was a mild dislike of the holiday, morphed over time into a full blown loathing. It became, along with New Years Eve, what I call, a "high pressure holiday". I always felt like I needed a really cool costume but it took me forever to come up with the idea. All through high school and university there were always Halloween functions so every year I would wait until the last minute and then come up with an idea that required a lot of work - face paint, hair colour, the works. For example, I would be a "bag of garbage" -  filled a garbage bag full of balls of newspapers and covered my face in dirt. I have always be willing to look like an idiot on Halloween.

But then one year about 7 or 8 years ago, I went to a Halloween house party and I knew I was done with the day for good. 

I had decided to go to this party as a "person falling out of a building". This required making my hair stand upright, and inserting a lot of coat hangers into my clothes to make them appear windblown. Like I said, a lot of work. So, with my hair full of about nine cans of hairspray and coat hangers hand-sewn into the seams of my shirt so it stood upright above my head (and when someone asked what I was, I told them I was falling from a building,  put my hands up in the air and screamed "AAAAHHHH!") I walked into the party and looked around and realized just what I hated about Halloween...it's that nobody else seems to put in much effort or is willing to look silly for the night. You have your prom queens, your Elviras, your brides,  your princesses (which is wearing your prom dress with a tiara)... basically people just taking their fancy dresses out of the closet and making themselves pretty for the night. And there I am having taken hours  hand sewing coat hangers through the seams of my shirt while some girl takes her black witch robe and hat out of its cellophane wrapper and is done.  (Don't get me started on the guys..mechanics, doctors, farmers. The occasional pimp. All boring.)

Shortly after this party debacle, the day slid even lower as "pretty costumes" have now officially been replaced by "slutty costumes'. This year, I knew the "sexy" transition is 100 per cent complete when my niece told me that at a Halloween store there was a costume that was a"slutty nun." Please, I'm OK with the sexy barmaid, the sexy nurse and even the sexy cat, but can't our friggin' NUNS be left alone? 

Anyway, having sworn off dressing up, I turned my attention to handing out candy. No dressing up required. The first year I did this I lived in a ground floor apartment right downtown with my sister and I told her that I wanted to hand out candy. She had lived in the apartment longer than I and warned me that they got a LOT of kids, so I bought probably about 20 bags of candy. She was right about it being crazy... I got home from work at 5:30 and there were hundreds (and hundreds) of kids swarming the neighbourhood. By six I was giving kids one tiny pack of Chiclets each and I was out of candy by 6:15. (That was also the year that at about 9:30 the doorbell rang and some man in his forties was standing on our doorstep holding a shopping bag in one hand and a cigarette in another and asking if we had any candy left.  Creepy.)

Now with the arrival of children the day has become more enjoyable again. Since Eric's band was playing and he wasn't around we turned off our own lights and went to my brothers house. Kieran (dressed as a cow) had a ball trick or treating with his two cousins....even though he ran out of steam after about 25 houses and had to be carried to the next 25.  (At least he's a small cow).

So, assuming Kieran doesn't need to be carried every year, there may be hope for the day. One year we may even go so far as to decorate our house up all Halloween-y and play scary music at the doorstep. 

However, rest assured, I will never, EVER dress up as a slutty nun. 

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

You're a Serial Killer, Charlie Brown

That old classic "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" was on TV tonight and I thought it might be fun to introduce Kieran to some of the stuff I watched when I was little. Thankfully, time and progress haven't  rendered it completely unwatchable like say, Mr Rogers Neighbourhood, which I notice is being replayed on PBS and is the Most. Outdated. Program. Ever.

I was immediately struck by how different these old cartoons are from the pablum that kids are fed today. Kids shows today are all either about love, caring and sharing or they are relentlessly educational. And, really, after a character asks a question, do they have to pause for 3-5 seconds for kids at home to yell out the answers, every single bloody time? (I'm talking to you Dora). 

But, back to Peanuts... I'd forgotten how cruel those kids are. Funny, but cruel. Seriously, poor Charlie Brown gets a Halloween Party invite and is immediately told by some bitchy girl that it was be a mistake and that he was on the list of kids that weren't supposed to be invited. And it's downhill from there. He's then the loser that opens himself up to further ridicule by cutting a million eye-holes in his ghost sheet and is the kid that gets only rocks while trick or treating. 

This leads me to wonder...we all know that Charlie Brown never, ever catches a break, but that must have taken its toll over time. How much rejection and negativity can a little kid take before he's putting Snoopy in the microwave and learning how to make bombs off the internet? Perhaps next we'll see him being followed around by an A&E camera crew as they chronicle his downward spiral into a world of drugs and prostitution?

All I know is that we haven't seen the last of Charlie Brown and if I was Lucy Van Pelt, well...I'd be practicing my psychiatry under an assumed name. 

See you at Christmas, Charlie Brown. Stay Strong. (But if you cannot fight your urge to kill...I'm going to give you Caillou's address. Can't stand that kid.)






Saturday, October 25, 2008

Thanks for Calling

So, the phone rang the other day, one of the dozens of telemarketing calls that I field on a daily basis. This time, it was someone asking for 30 seconds of my time to do a survey on water usage. Seemed innocuous enough, so I answered a couple of questions regarding my use of tap water vs bottled water and then forgot about it. 

A few days later, the phone rang again, and after I answered, I rolled my eyes because I should have known. It was the water survey people again, this time saying that due to my participation in their survey I had been especially selected to receive a free Shoppers Drug Mart Gift Card, all I had to do is have someone come to the house to perform a simple water quality test. 

I should have hung up right away, but, although I'm pretty good at cutting off telemarketers I ended up listening to the girl, mainly because I sort of wanted that gift card. But, unless you do actually hang up on them, it's easy to get trapped. So, of course, I wound up with an appointment to have someone come to the house to test our water, even though I know all they want is to sell me some sort of filtration system. 

What was irritating me however was the fact that they kept stressing that my husband needed to be present for the appointment. I knew that when I made the appointment that he wasn't going to be home, but since I had zero intention of buying anything, I figured I'd let them tell me how bad our water was and then get the gift card. 

About five minutes after I hung up with the girl, the phone rang again, this time it's the "supervisor" just re-confirming the appointment. By this time, I knew I'd made a mistake and was going to be in for the hard sell. Anyhow, the supervisor stressed again that my husband needed to be home. It seemed painfully clear to me that they need the husband to be home because their systems are so atrociously expensive that wives use the old "I'll need to clear this with my husband" schtick to get rid of the sales guy (otherwise known as the "water tester"). 

Seeing my easy out, I said that, in fact, my husband was NOT going to be home at that time after all. The woman paused and then said that they were going to have to cancel the appointment. (Cue my sigh of relief). But the woman went on to say that they don't allow their testers to come when the husband isn't home because "its unsafe for the woman." And that to protect all parties they prefer not to leave their male technicians alone with female homeowners. 

So, hold the phone here, sister. 

What exactly are you trying to say? Are you telling me that your technicians are a bunch of lecherous perverts who've been known to assault or harass unsuspecting stay-at-home moms? Or are you insinuating that your innocent technicians are mere prey to us wily stay-at-home-minxes? And furthermore, does Rogers know this? I wonder, because they have never requested a man be present when they come to install cable.

Thanks for worrying about our collective safety water people, but I'm calling you out on this one. Don't try to pretend that you are concerned about my safety because I don't actually believe it. Granted, I would rather NOT be at home alone with any of your apparently creepy technicians but now that you've mentioned that I need to be worried about my safety, I'm even less likely to have you come over to perform your little water test. And also, what if I didn't have a husband? What if I was single or divorced? Does that mean that I can never know if my water is poisoning me? 

So, obviously, I am ignoring any further calls from my "friends" all Lifetime Water and I have since registered into the "Do Not Call" database. It's for my own safety.


Saturday, October 18, 2008

Babies. Election. Satan. Not necessarily in that order.

So, for the first time since the Papaya was born 6 months ago, I had a baby (and toddler) free day yesterday. Almost 8 hours of pure selfishness...and you know what? Nice as it was, I'm not sure it was worth the $30 I paid in extra daycare costs. 

Not that there was anything wrong with the day itself, but the reality is...Kaya is just zero trouble. Seriously. This child just goes with the flow. Happy. Kicks her legs in unbridled joy when she realizes that you are about to pick her up.  She has suffered teething and a really nasty cold with no personality change. Unless you wipe her nose, in which case,  she screams and thrashes like Satan being burned with holy water.  

What made me realize that I had wasted my money was when I went to pick the kids up from daycare and the sitter tells me that Kaya is the "best baby she's ever had." (Guess they didn't go after her with a Kleenex). I wasn't surprised but my second thought was...why did I bother? I realized that although I can move a lot quicker when I'm not lugging an almost 16-pounder in an infant carrier everywhere, it's not a big deal. 

On a related note: we may have to tone down the use of the nickname "Papaya" since she is clearly beginning to think that is her name. Not sure I can stop now though. 

****

We had a lovely Thanksgiving weekend. Spent in the leafy utopia of North Andover, Massachusetts, where of course it was NOT Thanksgiving, but Columbus Day. I'm sure my brother and his family are among the few in the town who mark the Columbus Day weekend with turkey and wine. OK, maybe just the turkey. I suspect there are many people who spend the day guzzling wine. How could they not when confronted by the endless, hate-filled, drawn-out, country-dividing spectacle that is the American Election. Whatever the outcome, the end cannot come soon enough. The only thing I'll miss about the election being over is Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. (Its funny cause its TRUE.)

What a complete contrast to the speedy snoozefest that was the Canadian election. which was a face off between two of the LEAST interesting candidates in the entire history of mankind (let alone Canadian politics). And, of course, we ended with the same result we had going in. Thanks for wasting our time and money Harper, you dead-eyed fool. 

***





Wednesday, October 8, 2008

For the Love of Little Girls

I was at Toys R Us yesterday. I was meeting  a friend for coffee and was early so I wandered around the store to see what I could buy. It's funny with the second baby...you realize just how little you actually NEED. Not just because you already have everything, which you do, but because you realize how quickly the stuff you do buy gets relegated to the closet or the storeroom. 

Which is why, while standing in line to purchase a $15 tray in order to extend the life of Kaya's Bumbo, I was behind a family with a loaded cart full of unnecessary items. The Deluxe Baby Bath Spa and Shower was one of them. So was the Video Baby Monitor and a $90 diaper pail. If I had been standing behind these people when Kieran was a newborn I may have been jealous, but this time I just thought they were suckers. 

Having said that I must make a small confession. I have bought almost NOTHING for our daughter. Ninety-nine percent of her clothes are either hand-me-downs or gifts. Basically, all I have bought for this child is diapers and formula. I have even been making my own baby food this time (a lot of it is peaches.) However a few weeks ago I saw the 1-2-3 Tea for Me Exersaucer. All of a sudden I felt really sorry for this little girl who sleeps on football sheets and uses toy cars as teethers. I wasn't being frugal... I was being cruel!! So, after thinking about it for a few days, Eric told me to just go buy it already. So, I did. And she loves it. And its pink. With a musical teapot and a little purse with fake/chewable money and a layer cake. So, I guess maybe I'm a sucker after all. 

One other item that Kaya has which Kieran didn't was a Christening gift from a friend of mine called the "Dream Screen." It's a little video player that attaches to the side of the crib and when the baby pulls a little bug it starts playing music along with a mesmerizing video.  I usually put this on for her during the day as entertainment rather than at night because it seems a bit loud and bright for nighttime. Although, the other night, she woke up and was inexplicably fussy so I turned it on for her and left the room. I came back a few minutes later to check on her and was slightly alarmed. In a dark room, the Dream Screen casts the exact same blue glow as a television. I half expected to look into the crib and see Kaya passed out in a bowl of Mr Noodles and the screen scene changed from a computerized nature scroll to a Singles Phone Chat Infomerical.  She's going to be ALL SET for the University years.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

You Tell Him Kieran

Let's cut to the chase. Where have I been? In short, my two year old stopped napping (sniff, sniff). 

I had really hoped that he would hold out until closer to three, but here we are barely past two and the naps are history. Or at least, the predictable naps are history. If I'm incredibly unlucky he will fall asleep while I'm making dinner or in the car and then, in addition to no nap, he'll be up until 10. That's a LOT of two year old. 

Consequently, he's become quite attached to me. He's disdainful of just about everyone else, turning his head angrily away if someone else so much as speaks to him. Sometimes this even includes his father. 

Yesterday, Eric and I were discussing me finding time to take another cake decorating class. The conversation goes like this:

Gen: I'm thinking of taking another class. 

Eric: You should. Just do it. 

Gen (voice rising in exasperation): I WOULD but your stupid schedule doesn't give me any free day. 

Eric (voice rising in return exasperation): Well, just pick a day and TELL me and I'll clear.....

Before he can finish, Kieran comes flying out of absolutely nowhere and puts himself between me and Eric. He turns to his father and starts wagging his finger at him. "DO NOT YELL AT MOMMY." 

HAHAHAHAHAHA.