Eeba says … lots and lots of things, mostly in the form of 4839028 questions a day

The age that Eva is at is challenging. Like, super challenging. And the closer we get to 3, the worse it seems to be getting. So sometimes I really need to stop and remind myself of the fun that this age brings, too. She is so inquisitive, learning more about the world every day. Of course, that manifests in the form of 4890358340 questions a minute, but I am attempting to see the beauty in that instead of always getting annoyed and shushing her. I am trying to engage in meaningful conversation with her, as I aid her learning about the world.

So because I need the memory refresher of how cut and fun and exciting this age can be, I decided it was time for another post all about my girl Eebs.

It’s not secret that E loves to sing. She sings all day, every day. Recently, her favourite song is “We Shall Assemble”. And it’s another one of those ones that will make me so sad when she finally realizes what the actual words are and corrects her. Because at this point, “Glory and honour and dominion” comes out “glory en tonor and ominia!” I die a little each time.

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A common phrase lately has been “But my favourite part is/isn’t _____”. Mostly she uses this to get out of doing something she doesn’t want to do or stopping doing something she does want to do. “Evalyn, it’s time to go inside”. “But my favourite part isn’t going inside. My favourite part is staying outside”.

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On the way to church a while back she piped up and asked me if Jesus was a boy or a girl. I told her he was a boy. The response? “Mmhm, okay, so does he stand up to go pee?” Face palm.

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She participated in a few days of Bible Day Camp at our church a few weeks ago. On the last day as we were driving there she said, “Do you know what I did at Bible Day Camp? I clapped, jumped and PRAISED GOD! I told the kids ‘We HAVE to be quiet. We have to praise God!’ He is in my heart and He is in your heart so I will SEND IT UP TO HEAVEN". Do we have a future television evangelist on our hands?

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Last week, one of Eva’s friends from preschool came over for a play date. And let’s just say the date didn’t start out so well. She had brought along a baby doll and both girls decided that that baby was the absolute and only thing worth playing with. So, the first fifteen minutes or so were spent refereeing in a major way. At one point, her friend’s mom said, “What do you think Mrs. F (their preschool teacher) would say if this happened at school? Maybe we should call her and ask her”. Next thing I knew, Eva had a toy phone up to her ear and was saying, “Uh huh, yes, okay, I will tell her” and then put the phone down and said “P, Mrs.. F said you have to give me that baby”.

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She is very into describing things. If I ask her to pick up the book on the floor she will say, “This book? This book that is on the green carpet that is beside the pink bow and underneath the yellow pillow? Is that the book you are talking about? Is that the one you are meaning?” It’s even funnier when she speaks this way to describe herself. “Eva, you are sweet”. “Who is sweet mom? Are you saying I am sweet? Are you saying this girl with a blue dress and a ponytail on the side who is sitting on the couch eating an apple is sweet? Is that the girl you are talking about?” One of the best ones was when she said, “The lady who was the pink cupcake pants on (um… HER) had to go to the hospital last weekend (not last weekend, more like, in February) because she had an ouchie pee pee”. Yep, we’re still talking about that one.

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She uses the phrase “Sure can” a lot. She said to her Grandpa “We can’t watch Diego today but we sure can watch Dora “and to her Papa, after telling him about ordering onion rings at the restaurant, “I didn’t like the inside but I sure did like the outside” (sidenote: fried food lover like her Mama). Another one of the best ones was when we went out for dinner with my aunt and uncle and she ordered herself shrimp and rice. When she started eating she said, “This shrimp is yummy but I sure didn’t order coleslaw”.

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She’s also very humble. She will be quick to tell you that she’s a great singer, or to tell her Nana, “Nana? You know what? I’m really awesome”.

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When we went to the pool for the first time this summer, I was surprised at how brave she got. I decided that we were best to get her a puddle jumper, even though we will most always be 1:1 ratio when swimming. I tried to order it online but they were on sale and the website wouldn’t work. I decided I’d just get it in store,but when I got to Walmart, discovered they don’t sell them in store. So, I told Eva I would find one a different time. That weekend, we were up north for my family reunion and my cousin’s kids had them and let her borrow one. As we were walking on the beach, I told her that what she was wearing was the floating thing I had tried to buy at walmart but couldn’t find. She said, “This is the thing you tried to get me? But they didn’t have it? Well, that’s HORRIBLE because I LOVE THIS”.

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Last week we had a situation where Gwen projectile vomited in the grocery store. Eva was so confused. She kept saying, “Did Gwen spook or did she spill her whole smoothie? Do we need to change her dress now?”

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She has a little trouble with the world regular. It often comes out regigular or regilla. Think, a cross between regular and vanilla. Recently, I figured out that she actually think regular and vanilla are one in the same. I guess I’ve probably described vanilla ice cream as ‘plain’ and also used regular and plain to describe the same thing. Anyway, somehow along the way she’s equated vanilla with being regular. When we were up north at my family reunion, the chairs in our cabin were rather low, making it tricky for her to sit at them and reach her food at the table. I tried to convince her to sit in Gwen’s booster seat to eat for added height but of course this is too babyish and she’d have none of it. She sat there for two seconds and then said “Mom, I just want to sit on the vanilla chair, okay?”

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A few weeks ago, Evan was spending the morning at home working in the shop. I took advantage of the time when he was here to put Gwen for her nap and take my big girl out for a donut date. On the way home she said “I just love being with my mommy. This is my favourite day”. HEART BURST!

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Eva’s excitement leading up to Gwen’s birthday party was amazing. She was just so thrilled about it. I decorated for it the night before and when she got up that morning it was like Christmas. She was so pumped, “MOM! I love these decorations. They are so beautiful. They are perfect! They look so pretty!”

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And speaking of Gwen’s party, that combined with a few preschool friend’s parties and  few other birthdays we have celebrated – my girl has birthday on the brain. Not a day goes by that she doesn’t ask, “Is it my birthday party now? Is it September yet? Is it September and twenty second? Did ___ and ___ and ___ (listing all the names of people I’ve told her have to have birthdays before her) have their birthdays yet? At my birthday party I will let my friends pull on a piñata but it will be my turn to open my presents all by myself”. Also? She wants a lollipop birthday. And told me she wants her own phone, lawn mower, boat and toy car for presents. Well.

She loves her magna doodle. And lately, she always wants me to take pictures of her creations. Here we have a cow with a bow in her hair, a horse with a raincoat on, a pig with purple eye balls and two baby chicks.

      

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I asked her how her nap was when she woke up one day. Her response? “Terrible. I was dreaming about crocodiles and they bit my arms so now I have bug bites and that's what is making my nap horrible”.

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One day we were going to bake cookies. I told her she needed to clean up her toys first. She said, “Okay, you can clean up the princesses. And then you can clean up all the rest”. Not quite what I had in mind.

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Speaking of cleaning up, I seem to have created a monster. Today she was refusing to lay down for her nap because, in her words, “The toy stroller is not asposed to be in here! It’s asposed to be in between the blocks and the dollhouse!”

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Kids always have a way of keeping us humble. Like when she says, “Oh mommy. Do you have another baby in your tummy?” and when I say no she pokes my stomach and says, “Then what’s this?”

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She is kind of the definition of oldest child. As in, she’s as bossy as bossy can get. Not just to Gwen, but to anyone. She likes to be in charge and tell everyone exactly what they need to do and when they need to do it. We’re working on this one. The other day, she said to Gwen, “Okay, Gwen. You need to stop crying right now or you won’t get any snacks or any drinks all day”. Wow, that’s some tough love.

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I made pasta salad and Eva picked an artichoke out of it. She asked what it was and when I told her artichoke, she looked up, totally fearful and startled and said “WILL I CHOKE ON IT?”

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We were driving up north for the long weekend and we passed a transport truck hauling cows. Eva asked Evan where they were going and the thing is, with a husband who is a hunter and living on a farm, these things don’t get sugar coated. Eva knows that animals die and then become food that we eat. So, Evan was explaining to her that they were in that truck going to the butcher shop to be made into meat to sell at the store. Anyway, that whole conversation is beside the point, really. The actual point is that for the next twenty minutes, she said some variation of BITCHER shop probably 600 times.

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We went out for Sushi with my parents and brother/SIL on our way up north. During lunch, Evalyn asked her Unco for money. He handed her a fifty and she said “No, not this kind. I want real money. Do you have any pennies?” Um, girlfriend has much to learn.

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When we were getting ready to leave our family reunion (where there is over 50 people, I might add) Eva told me, “I’ll say bye to all these people but I’m not huggin’ dem”.

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One day while we were tidying up, I asked Eva where the thermometer for her Doctor set was. She said, “I don’t know but you can keep looking. If you look beside the fridge you’ll probably find it”. Two guesses where it was?

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She is mastering the art of stalling bedtime. She comes up with every excuse in the book, including, but not limited to coming out of her room, crying to tell me, “Tomorrow you will have to carry me because I will have sick legs”. Another one she likes to do is just ask a million questions about everything as I’m trying to say goodnight. One day she was busting out random questions about nothing and I just kept saying “I love you” over and over again and she finally said, “Mom, I love you, too, okay? BUT WHY DO PUPPIES SAY WOOF?”

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She has 12 months of big sisterdom under her belt, and the sweetness just hasn’t stopped. The other day she was sitting on her porch, feeding her baby and saying "I'm breasting baby Yadi. I have milk like you because I am a mommy too. So I am giving her milk from my breast feeds!"

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I asked her what is in her heart and she said, “It’s a thing in my tummy and it is for to love God”.

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“Mom, do you know why I frewed (threw) my playdoh? It’s because I was being rude”.

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While playing Doctor with me, she checked my heart and said, “We’re not quite done, my dear”. Then when she was done, she moved on to Tigger being her patient and said “There ya go, big boy. This won’t hurt a bit”.

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This morning didn’t start out so well. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed…to put it lightly. By breakfast she had finally calmed down and told me "In the bathroom I cried quietly and that was a little bit bad choice. But in my room I made big bad choices. Dad told me not to do that".

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Phew, that was a long one. Until next time.

my girl eebs

I apologize that this is going to be so long but it’s been about a month since I’ve done one of these posts and let me tell ya, she’s had some doozies lately. I could literally write one of these posts every single day. So, here we go. Eva-isms part 4890584:

Tonight we drove to the mall for our second visit with Santa. On the way, she kept asking if we were going to the North Pole. I couldn’t seem to convince her it was just the mall. I guess this whole thing is confusing, considering the first time we went she asked if we “could go see Jesus now”. And then, we started talking about how we’d leave cookies and milk and carrots for Santa and his reindeer on Christmas eve and she said, “Will the reindeers chew dem up? And does Santa drink the milk? Does he drink it from da breast-seeding?”  Um, not exactly kid. Then when we saw him, she was not scared at all this time. She just said “Hey Santa, can I have my present now?” Whoops.

Then, on the drive home I asked her what she did at the mall and she said, “Okay, Mom. When we get home, I’ll tell ya all about it, alright? I’ll tell ya with nice words”.

The other day she was playing and she told me, “Mommy, you are not ah-youd to spoke until Jesus comes”. Well, alright then.

She’s really interested in making her baby sister happy lately. On a daily basis, she will sing a song or read a story or do anything and when Gwennie smiles she squeals with delight, “I sang a song to Gwennie and dat makes her soooo happy!” It’s precious, for real.

A while back, she was walking around, feeding her baby in a sling (a skill I have not mastered). She switched sides so the baby could have “de osser milk” and she put this blanket over her and said “I gotta keep my baby prisate”.

My parents are Nana and Papa and Evan’s parents are Nana and Grandpa. Having two Nanas can be quite confusing but she’s figured out how to distinguish them. She now calls my mom “The Nana with the Papa Nana” and Evan’s mom “The Nana with the Grandpa Nana”.

A while back she was playing very independently with her Little People Nativity Set. I love listening to her imagination and creativity develop. Have to say I laughed when I heard, “You listen to me baby Jesus. I said stay ober der. You don’t say no to me. It’s time to talk nicely. You stay with Joseph or go back to bed”.

Lately, she has been the queen of run on sentences and ‘cuz is her current conjunction of choice. For example, “You said good morning cuz’ I woke up cuz’ I got out of bed, cuz’ you opened my door, cuz’ Daddy was still sleeping, cuz’ we can have breakfast now, cuz’ I went potty, cuz’ I have undies, cuz’ I want a banana”.

I was in the kitchen and the girls were playing on the living room floor. And of course, by playing, I mean Eva was putting blankets on top of Gwen and pushing her head down into a pillow telling her it was time for sleeping (her new favourite game). Suddenly, I heard her say, “Oh did I bite you Gwennie? Don’t worry. I just a little bit bite you”. Supervision FAIL.

She has been quite interested in the whole Christmas thing. She was reading the Christmas story to me and it went like this: "Once upon a time Mary and Joseph and a donkey went for a longggg walk. They walked to Vineland. Then baby Jesus got borned in the hay". Pretty much sums it up.

On another Christmas note, apparently the fact that we say “Merry Christmas” and Jesus’ mother was “Mary” is quite confusing to the 2 year old mind. Whenever she hears Merry Christmas she says, “Where’s Mary? Is baby Jesus in her tummy?”

On the weekend, we were up before the sun. Wait, we’re up before the sun everyday. Anyway, it was a rare morning that Gwennie was still sleeping, so Eva and I were cuddling on the couch. There is one house across a couple fields that leaves the Christmas lights on all night. She was in awe of the boo-tiful lights and then started counting how many polar bears she could see. Apparently, there were 7. Then when we went potty she said, “Yook Mom! Ders a baby polar bear. Right der in that cage. We better get him out. You better pet him. You better kiss him”. She named him Poalie and we took care of him all day. I guess we just need to be better about securing our house from wild animals since there was a skunk climbing on my chair at dinner a few weeks ago.

In the car she asked me, “Mom, am I free or am I seben?” I said, “You are two”. She said, “I’m four probably”.

We’ve been spending a lot of time talking about the significance of Christmas and about the gift of Jesus’ birth. One time while talking she asked me, “Mom, where is Jesus?” I told her that he is in her heart and she said “No he’s on the board at Mrs. F’s house”.

Her independence has really started to shine through since she’s been potty training. Like she wasn’t independent before. <sarcasm font>. Often, when she goes potty she tells me, “Don’t come wis me. I need to hab a priva-seat”.

Lately, there have been some traits coming out in Eva that show how much like me she really is. She walks around with her magna doodle ‘taking attendance’. "Is my friend Daddy here? No, he’s at work. Is my friend Mommy here? Yes. She’s here. Glad to see you here today”. She has also started making lists on her magnadoodle. Specifically, asking me what I want for Christmas and ‘writing it down’. It’s so cute. She also loves to be ticked like I do. If I start to rub her arms, she will take her shirt off and hold her bare arm out to me to tickle and then make me tickle the other one.

A few weeks ago at dinner she was rambling on and on and on (she tends to do this, ya know) and she said to Evan, “My baby in my tummy is coming out later. My milk come out. My milk come from my bretts. Wanna see. Just yook though. Don’t touch my bretts”.

It’s no secret that the twos can be terrible. A few weeks ago, she had a downright kicking, screaming, flailing temper tantrum because “Gwennie spit up on her”. Truth was she was climbing all over us while I was nursing and a bit of milk from the edge of Gwen’s mouth got on her sleeve. She then proceeded to have a fit, screaming as though I was ripping her fingernails off, yelling “DIS IS ALL SOAKING WET. I NEED A NEW SHIRT. CAN’T YOU GIVE ME A NEW SHIRT? IT’S SOAKING”. Two minutes later, she was over it, although she continued to hold her “soaking wet” arm awkwardly in the air for about 10 minutes.

Girlfriend is obsessed with TV. Although, this obsession is fairly theoretical since she will rarely watch for more than 10 minutes. Anyway, she asks  us NON stop if she can watch. When she gets up in the morning and we ask what she wants for breakfast, instead of telling us, it’s “Can I watch a show wis it?” Picture this being said with a sly, eyebrows raised expression.

She is constantly using terms of endearment for basically everyone. She calls Evan “Daddy boy” and me  “Sweetie heart”, “Lover baby and “Sweet Mom” all the time. That won’t ever get old.

I have myself a nice pair of purple skinnies. Evan hates them. Absolutely despises them. I put them on for church last week and walked into the bathroom. Evan immediately gave me a disgusted look and right at the exact moment, Evalyn shouted “Oh man! COOL PURPLE PANTS MAMA!” I’ll stick with her opinion, thankyouverymuch.

That same day, it was her BFF’s first birthday and on the way to his party she was singing away in the car (unusual, I KNOW) and sang “We’re go-ning to the party on the day of the Lord and Jesus is my Lord on the birthday!”

Since the whole potty training thing has been going down, there tends to be more poop talk in my house than I am typically comfortable with. One time, when Eva did a #2 she told me, “Yook Mom. It’s yong of a snake!” (as long as a snake). I’d be lying if I told you we haven’t since started  asking her if she “needs to do a long of a snake”… Just a few days ago she did her #2 and told me “It’s not long of a snake today. It’s just long of a turtle”.

She’ll hate me someday for sharing these things, won’t she?

The One Where My Husband Owes Me. Like WHOA.

So. My husband is away right now. Up in his hometown hunting at his cabin. Eva and I were supposed to go with him, to visit my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and Eva’s cousins, but the cousins have the chicken pox so we decided to steer clear.

Yesterday, it poured rain all.day.long. Like, poured. As in, feet getting soaked because of the deep puddles on the driveway in the potholes.

Around 8:30 p.m., my sweet husband sent me a hey tell saying that he just realized he forgot to lock the chickens up in the coop before he left and could I please go out there and make sure they were inside, and shut the door?

A little background information – we live on a farm and we have chickens. Some for eggs, some for meat. These are the husband’s domain. I will cook and eat the eggs and the meat but I will not take care of the chickens. I do not feed them, I do not go in the coop, I do not collect the eggs. Heck, if I can help them, I don’t even look at them. I am not in with the birds. I dislike birds. A lot. They give me the creeps. So, my relationship with the chickens goes only so far as seeing the evidence of them once they are brought into the house in the form of eggs or roasting chickens.

Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy with his request. I made every excuse in the book why I wouldn’t be able to go out there to check them. It’s dark. It’s raining. I’ll get cold. Hello! I AM WITH CHILD! Finally, he convinced me it had to be done. So, I bundled up in his coat, a pair of my boots and a flashlight and headed back to the chicken coop. He promised me I wouldn’t even need the flashlight because the motion censor light would come on once I got back there. It didn’t.

And I was greeted by flooded grass. As in, 2-3 inches of water sitting on top of the lawn. And my boots were not waterproof. So I went back inside, called him and told him I just couldn’t make my way back to the coop. I’d never survive. He told me to put on my big girl panties, put on rubber boots in the garage and go back out. At this point, I had run out of excuses. So, I donned some boots that were about 32 sizes too big and trudged my way back again. And into the nasty, stinky, chicken poop infested coop.

And what did I find? A LOT OF CHICKENS WERE NOT INSIDE.

We just got new chickens on the weekend, so I guess they don’t know the place well enough to know where they were supposed to go to find shelter and get inside, so instead of walking into the warm, cozy coop and cuddling up with their neighbours, ten or so of them were huddled together on a pile of cinder blocks in the back corner of the outside of the pen. Right against the wall of the coop. But, the opposite wall of where the door is to get inside. They were wet and shivering and squawking. I tried to herd them off the cinder blocks and chase them into the coop so I could shut the door. No way. These guys were not moving.

So, I did what I had to do. And to this moment, I’ll never know how it was possible.

I picked them up, one by one, WITH MY BARE, SOAKING, FREEZING COLD HANDS, and carried the little buggers to safety.

It was disgusting and creepy and scary. But I had no choice. I couldn’t leave them out there in the freezing cold rain to die? Well, they probably wouldn’t have died, that’s a bit over dramatic, but still … it would have been heartless to leave them.

Needless to say, my husband quickly got an angry text, that may or may not have included one or two words I’m not overly proud of, telling him that he is LUCKY I SAVED HIS CHICKENS and that he owes me big time. I believe my exact words were, “My wish is your command for like a YEAR”.

I wish I had photos to give documented proof of this expedition (and trust me, you wish I did, too) but you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Old McLucy is back. In full action.

It’s in the details

You know how parents always tell stories about the funny things their kids do? And then people say, you’ll have to remember that one. But then, two months later they don’t remember anymore? It’s true. It happens. You think you’ll remember every single detail about your child’s life but you don’t. The next month comes and brings it with more development, more fun, more memories – and some of the details that you promised yourself you’d always remember fade away.

Lately, we’ve had a few of those. And I don’t want to forget. I really, really don’t. So I’m about to risk writing a post that no one else will care about – where I rhyme off a bunch of cute/funny/silly/memorable things that my kid has done lately. My blog. My memories. So, here we go. These will undoubtedly be funnier, more amusing and way cuter to me than any of you, but whatever.

Lately, every single thing that Evalyn can find that might possibly resemble a hat goes on her head. She walks around saying “hat, hat, hat”. Actually, it doesn’t even have to resemble a hat. The other day, half a meatball was placed on top of her head at dinner time as she proudly shouted out, “HAT!”

She is really into pretending to sleep and loves pillows, blankets and beds. She loves to climb in our bed with us, flop like a fish and lay down and pretend to sleep. She even makes a snoring noise. She also thinks it’s hilarious to wake us up if we’re pretending to sleep.

A few nights ago, when I was putting her to bed, she was laying on her change table as I was getting her PJs on and she tooted. I giggled and said “Evalyn, say excuse me! You tooted”. Then, she tooted again. And again, I said, “Oh, you tooted”. Then, her face got really red and I could tell she was pushing. Nothing came out. So, she made a toot sound with her mouth, laughed, and said “toot”. Now, if we say, “Did you toot?” she toots with her mouth. We are so proud. So, so proud. Important life lessons, here.

The other day, we were at Wayford and Wilma’s for Thanksgiving dinner and I was putting her in her PJs to bring her straight home to bed. When I laid the change matt from the diaper bag on the floor, she immediately knew that somehow, she was supposed to lay down on it. I’m not sure if she wanted to pretend it was a bed or if she was just trying to help me out, but girlfriend rolled around and did somersaults on that thing for forever. She looked like a dog trying to get comfy in his bed – you know how they always turn in circles over and over again in the exact same spot? Yeah. That.

That same night, she was sitting in her travel booster seat at the table to eat dinner. Lately, she’s been doing a lot of the chucking stuff on the ground while eating. She doesn’t get that if she doesn’t want another drink, she can just set her cup on the side of the tray and keep eating. Nope. On the floor it goes. So, I was quite pleased when I saw that following her sip of milk, she decided to reach as far as she could in front of her, over her high chair tray, and set her cup on the main table. I said, “Oh good girl. That’s a nice place to put your cup”. And, you know what the good girl did? Picked every single piece of food off her tray and stretched her little arms forward to put it on the table.

Yesterday, my good friend Cindy was over, and of course, brought with her a bag of kettle corn. While I was putting Evalyn down for her nap, she got our snack ready. She put mine in a large round tupperware container. When Evalyn woke up, of course, I had eaten everything and it was empty. She pointed to it and said “Hat”. (Are we surprised?) There were still a few crumbs and kernels in the bottom, so I cleaned it out for her to wear as a hat. I licked my finger, ran it around the bottom of the container to pick up all the little crumbs and then, ya know, licked my finger again. Evalyn watched me do this. And then, she ran her finger all around the inside of the tupperware, lifted it up, looked at it for a second. And then took the index finger on her other hand and put it in my mouth. Monkey see, monkey do.

Speaking of monkeys. Monkeys say “heehee”, puppies say “mmmMmmm”, cows say “Mooo”, and well, so does everything else.

Recently Evalyn has taken a huge leap in baby signing (there’s a post coming all about this early next week). One of my favourite, and what I thought most helpful, signs that she has figured out is “help”. She does the sign, although her version looks quite similar to “more” and says, “hep”. At first, she only did it if I asked her if she needed help. And then one day, she was trying to get on her toy car, walked over to me, and signed/said help. I praised her for this and over the next few days a LOT of tantrums and screaming was avoided by her ability to ask for help. And then, one morning, she laid on her tummy in front of the fridge, pushed all her fridge magnets under the fridge and then came to me and asked for help. I got them out from under the fridge. And then she did it again. And again. And again. You can see where this is going. She rolls balls under furniture, gets herself stuck under chairs, tries to carry heavy things. All just so she can ask for help. Now? “Help” is the most annoying form of communication she has.

Lastly, and the very best, in my opinion, is that Evalyn says I love you all the time. We always do “I” (point to our eyes), “love” (point to our hearts), “YOU” (point to her). Over the last few weeks, she has started pointing to her eye and saying “IIIIIIIII” when we do this. And sometimes? She does it umprompted. Walks up to me, points to her eye, and says “IIII”, followed by a hug. And everytime? I melt.

These are the details that life is made of. The details I never want to forget.

She knows how to play

Apparently we’re in the middle of National Videos of my Kid Week… otherwise known as, my brain is on vacation and I have another super cute video that I just have to share.

If you want to see a girl who knows how to play and you want to put a smile on your own face – go ahead and press play.

I will give one hundred dollars to anyone who can watch this without letting out a little giggle (okay, I won’t, but really … you’re gonna laugh).

Have a great weekend!

When it clicks…

I have one funny Easter story that I wanted to share that I totally forgot to write about in my post yesterday. It’s about a kid but not my kid. Since my sister (ahem, are you listening Kristin?) doesn’t have a blog – someone has to record the hilarious things her kid says.

We had our Easter egg hunt on Friday before dinner because that is when my grandparents were over and we knew they’d enjoy watching the kids (er –kid – let’s face it, Eva and Baby A didn’t do much egg hunting) having fun.

After the egg hunt, there were a few minutes left before dinner so I was keeping Little H occupied by reading books with him. We were reading the “What is Easter?” book that the Easter Bunny brought for Eva. This book is perfect because it talks about how it’s okay to enjoy the eggs, and chocolate and other fun parts of Easter but it’s also necessary to remember the reason for the holiday – celebrating the resurrection of Christ and the gift that that is to us.

This is my kind of book because it targets how I feel about Christian holidays and how I want to teach my children to celebrate them. It targets the idea that there can be a good balance between the fun and the faith.

After finishing the story, I tried to talk to Little H a bit about what it means that Jesus rose from the dead and how he did that for HIM. I told him that Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead so that he could go to heaven.

Then, I asked him if he wanted to tell Nana and Papa and Grandma and Grandpa that Jesus rose from the dead. Of course he did. He ran into the kitchen proclaiming, “Jesus rose from the dead!”

Of course, everyone wanted to show Little H just how exciting this proclamation was so we were all encouraging him – shouting, “Hooray! Jesus rose from the dead. Hooray! He rose from the dead for Little H, and Nana, and Grandma …” and so on. You get the point.

You could tell Little H was so excited.

Shouting “Hooray” over and over again.

Finally, he ran back towards the living room where we had had the Easter egg hunt and shouted one last, very important proclamation:

“HOORAY! NOW WHERE’S MY CHOCOLATE BUNNY?”

Don’t you just love it when it clicks?

The Boy Can Talk

I’ve told you before that my hubby has a sleep talking problem right? Um, hello? Remember Little Dickie?

The past couple nights he’s had some good ones. Both right when he was falling asleep – which is often when the very best conversations come out.  Those times where I have to stop and think, “Wait. What did he just say? Is he asleep?”. My favourite are when you can decipher the things he says and figure out that they somehow relate to his hobbies or his job. Which, I think, both of these do.

A few nights ago we were just about to go to sleep. Sometimes if we’re chatting in bed before we say goodnight I say something like “Is there anything else we need to say?”. I don’t know why I do this. I guess just to make sure everything that needs to be said about the day is said.

His response? “What do you want me to say something about? My day? Or your new gun? Or that bolt that goes in and out of it?”

Say WHAT now?

Last time I checked I did not have a new gun. Heck, I don’t even have an old gun. And the bolt? I’m not sure what it is or where it goes in and out of.

Then last night on the brink of sleep, I rolled over to cuddle him as the big spoon.

I sighed and said “Ah. I wish I like cuddling while I sleep but I just don’t.”

Him: “You do like cuddling while you sleep. You just don’t like cuddling while you’re falling asleep”. (See? He was still awake during this comment. You’re about to see how quickly boyfriend falls asleep).

Me: “Whatever. You never cuddle me while I’m asleep.”

Him: “That is not true. You have … no idea how often I … cuddle you … right on … the side of that railing.”

(FTR, The … indicate the pauses in his speech. Which is a sure fire way of knowing that whatever he’s about to say is going to be cracked.)

So watch out. When you’re least expecting it, you’re going to find me and my hubby cuddling close … right on the side of that railing.

Baby’s First Word … what???

So my kid said her first word last week.

What?

Yup, she did. I guess we’ve got a prodigy on our hands.

In the past week or so, Evalyn has really found her voice. She will spend hours and hours – more like minutes and minutes - cooing and oohing and gahhhhing.

She talks to me. She talks to her Daddy. She talks to the Christmas tree. Heck, I’ve even caught her talking to the wall a time or two. She has definitely acquired her mother’s gift of gab. And I couldn’t be more proud.

The other evening, Evalyn and I were chillin’ on my bed and she was babbling away like crazy.

I decided that her Nana would probably like to hear her chatter, so I gave her a call.

We got her voicemail so I said “Hi Nana. This is Eva. I just wanted to call and say hi”.

Then I said, “Evalyn talk to Nana”.

She responded by cooing and aahing.

I said “Evalyn say Hi to Nana”.

And that’s when she did it.

My 9.5 week old verbal genius said “HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII”.

And I nearly died. I could not believe it. I just started laughing so hard and hung up the phone. Because, well, you know, I didn’t actually expect her to say hi. But she did.

So you better believe that in her baby book on the “First and Favorites” page it’s going to say “First Word – 9.5 weeks – Hi”.

~~~

**My mom saved the message on her voicemail and I’m trying to figure out a way to record it somehow. If and when I do, I’ll definitely try to share it.

The Trouble With Nipples

I decided to change things up for once and write a little post that does not have to do with pregnancy, childbirth, or babies. Kind of. It still has to do with babies, in a sense. Today's post is about my 2 year old nephew, Little H. You've all met Little H a time or two around here so I thought that I'd share this story because it's too hilarious to go to waste.


Let me warn you: I use the word "nipple" an inordinate amount of times in this post. If that bothers you, you may want to stop reading now.


Like any tried and true boy, Little H has a bit of an infatuation for boobs and, in particular, nipples. Unfortunately, this little infatuation may be partly the FD's fault. One time, a few months back, I found them playing together outside and "Unky" was tossing him in the air and yelling the word "Nipple" in a funny voice. (Sidenote: this just gives me a small glimpse into the trouble I will have to undo with our own kids.) Of course, Little H thought this was cool and hilarious. Because everything Unky does is cool and hilarious. After that, he made a few comments in reference to nipples but that was about it.


Just the other day, my sister told me that perhaps his fascination with nipples may have returned. He and his dad were laying in his bed one night. My BIL was trying to get him to go back to sleep. Suddenly, in the darkness, my BIL felt a lick go up the side of his body, straight to the nip.


Of course, he wasn't exactly expecting this, so he gave a little yelp and said, "Little H, do not lick Daddy's nipples".

Little H stopped and pondered this for a moment and finally said, "Okay. Daddy's nipples dangerous."


Hm, something like that.


I guess my sister's attempts to teach Little H what he is and is not allowed to do based on the safety of said activities is paying off.


And by the way, the next day, he walked up to my sister, pinched her you-know-what (for some reason I can't bring myself to say the word nipple in reference to my sister), while saying, "No touching nipples".


What a kid.

The Monkey Milkin' Shirt

Last week, I was excited to find a package in my mailbox from my Shaina (yes, she's mine - deal with it).

Included in the package was Season 2 of Arrested Development, some cute hangers for baby, a card, and what will forever be known as The Monkey Milkin' Shirt.

You see, I was wearing a nighty a while back that has buttons down the front and the Dude commented that it would make an "excellent milking shirt". And since that day, he has taken to calling all of my nursing attire and any other shirts that have buttons down the front, "Milking Shirts".

On the card Shaina sent with the package she wrote "As a token of my gratitude, I am enclosing a new milking shirt."

But this, this is not just any old milking shirt. This, my friends, is The Monkey Milking Shirt.

Shaina and Kyle picked this Milking Shirt specifically for me because of the Monkeys. They also thought that it might be suitable to double up as a Birthing Shirt because the Monkeys on it are, well, discreetly covering their private areas with bouquets of flowers. And while there likely will not be any discreet coverage of the privates during my labor and delivery, what better way to bring the Little Monkey into the world than when wearing The Monkey Milkin' Shirt!

C'mon Little Dickie!

I'm not sure if I have ever outed the FD on my blog but ... he does crazy things in his sleep. Mostly, he talks. A lot. Of course, he's no rival to the Sleeping Talking Man, but he says and does his share of amusing things in the wee hours of the night.

His latest nocturnal interlude occurred about a week ago and I have not been able to let it go. I am still chuckling each and every time I think about our conversation so I knew that it must be forever documented on that which is blogger.

I was sleeping peacefully when I found myself being poked in the back by my *giggling* husband. And, yes, when I say giggling, I mean a high pitched, hehehe, girl-y girl giggle. I rolled over to see what exactly it was that he was doing when the following conversation took place...

FD: "C'mon ya Little Dickie! You just gotta pick a spot and snip it off!"

Me: "Um, WHAT?" [At this point, I'm pretty certain he must be dreaming of circumcision or something].

FD: "I'm talking about vinyl siding, okay?"

Me: "Um, okay."

FD: [More girly giggling] "He he he. Little Dickie."

At this point, he continued the giggle fest and began to cuddle me and nuzzle my neck.

Now, he was working on a siding job last week, so I asked him in the morning if he remembered the conversation. Of course, he did not. And then I asked him if saying "C'mon Ya Little Dickie. You just gotta pick a spot and snip it off" would have anything to do with the job he was working at. Of course, it does not.

While the Dude's sleep talking brings me a great deal of laughter, I am slightly concerned as to what might take place when we have a newborn and are both dealing with sleep deprivation. His sleep talking, walking, and craziness tends to be amplified when he is stressed, busy and exhausted.

I have heard many stories of husbands who have done and said crazy things when they have newborns such as my BIL who used to attempt to swaddle anything and everything he could get his hands on at night - including their pillows and my sister.

I'm somewhat afraid that the Dude might, you know, attempt to put our child out into the chicken coop, or take him/her for a ride in the boat or something like that. Perhaps I should consider getting a security alarm bracelet to put on the baby just in case my Little Dickie does anything crazy.

Thou Shalt Not Say: Part Three ... with the worst one yet...

By now, you know that my Husband has a sick and cruel sense of humour and that during my pregnancy that sense of humour has often come at the expense of my ever changing body. So, here we are just 44 short days away from my due date and I have compiled, yet again, a list of the wonderfully insensitive jokes hubby has made over the past weeks. And get ready for it, because the last comment on the list, just may be the funniest (and most horrible) one yet!

It's a good thing I know without a doubt that my Dude thinks I'm beautiful or else I would probably be curled up in a cave by this point. But I'm not ... because we joke, and we tease, and we laugh, and that's just the way it goes around here.

So, here you have it:

"I'm just looking at all the lumps on your body."

"I can't decide which part of you jiggles the most lately."

As I am relaxing in the bath tub:

"Hm, wow. Those boobs seem to be getting closer and closer to your arm pits lately."

As I am laying in bed reading before bed:

"Why are you wearing those tiny underwear again?"

"These aren't the 'tiny underwear'. These are the biggest one's I've got."

"Oh yikes. I think you need to go shopping."

Of course, we can't forget his favorite song to sing to me lately ...

"Chunky. Chunky. Chunky. I like 'em big, I like 'em chunky chunky chunky. I like 'em big, I like 'em plumpy. I like 'em round with something, something."

Over the past week, I have started to notice that my belly is dropping a little bit. Apparently, the Dude has noticed, too. He often comes up behind me, puts his hand under my belly, jiggles it and says,

"Why is this big old thing droopin' so low?"

He also makes sure to let me know when my tummy is sticking out the bottom of my shirt ... which is has been more often than not lately.

And now ... the one that takes the cake:

One on of the very hottest days we've had so far, I was standing in the kitchen eating a snack wearing only one of his T-shirts and Undies (don't judge - that's actually more than I wear around the house a lot of the time) and he takes a look at me and says,

"I see you're getting some stretch marks there on your legs that weren't there before."

"Those have always been there. I have had them since I was like 20 when I traded my teenage body for my adult body."

"Oh. I guess I never noticed them before. They must just be more visible now that they are on those thunder thighs."

So what do you think, do I have enough material to write my book yet?

27 weeks and a funny story

Today marks 27 weeks - the first day of my third trimester! I can hardly believe that we are two thirds of the way through the pregnancy. I will be meeting my baby before I know it! The baby is still the size of an eggplant but sometimes feels like it's taking up wayyyyy more room in there than an eggplant would!

I have decided to stop doing the weekly updates using the survey I normally use because I'm finding that it's getting somewhat repetitive. I mean, I don't need to tell you week after week that I am maxin' and relaxin' in maternity clothes at all times, that we don't know the sex of our baby, or that I could press elevator buttons with my outtie navel, as my friend Bigg Burd so nicely put it.

So, instead I'm now just going to write weekly posts to document anything significant that has taken place over the course of the week so that I can try to remember the finer details of pregnancy. I am still taking one diclectin at night - I have tried twice now to go off it completely, but it seems to that it's necessary for me to have one before bed to ward off the morning sickness. I'm hoping to try again next week and see what happens.

We finished our childbirth classes last night. We really enjoyed them! The instructor was a retired midwife from our clinic who is now a SAHM so it was wonderful to get some information and perspective from someone who is incredibly familiar with the practices and philosophies that are used at the clinic while also mixing it with some first hand Mommy information. We were able to ask her some questions that don't always come up at midwife appointments and found her to be so helpful!

Over the past week, I feel like the baby has been doing little dances all over my bladder. It's not a constant pressure, but just tiny little taps every once in a while that make me have to race to the toilet! My dad said that maybe the baby is just tapping his fingers on my bladder and wondering, "Hmm, how much longer do I have to wait in here?"

After a few weeks of what seemed to be somewhat of a plateau in growth, I seem to have a major growth spurt. On Sunday evening, I was doing something in the kitchen wearing a pair of the Dude's gym shorts and a big tshirt (read: lookin' mighty fine) when he said to me, "What's that big thing under your shirt? I think your belly grew today!" So, I got out the tape measure and discovered that I had grown an entire INCH since Thursday. One inch in three days! As of today, we're at 11.5 inches total, 1.5 since last week!

Here's a little comparison of what 10 weeks can do ....

17 weeks

27 weeks

I've definitely been noticing a little bit of what one might call, um, preggo brain. I cannot seem to keep myself organized or remember anything! The other night, I reached up to take out my earrings and got upset because I realized one was missing and I was wearing my favorite pair of pearls. I told the Dude that I would be super sad if I lost one. I went to my earring drawer to take out the remaining earring and when I opened it, found the "missing" earring right in it's place. Apparently, I went to the dresser to take out my earrings, got one out and put away, and forgot what I was doing and wandered away for a few hours until I decided to take out my earrings again.

And the last thing I have to share this week is a somewhat humorous story. As I have been getting bigger, I have noticed that the desire for people to touch my belly has been getting more intense. I tend to get at least a belly rub a day, if not more. I'm not really one who is picky about my personal space, so it doesn't really bother me. I don't feel uncomfortable if people touch my tum tum. Wait. Let me re-phrase. I don't feel uncomfortable if people whom I know and am comfortable with touch my tum tum. But seriously - there is something not so cool about strangers rubbing up on my belly.

The other day, I was with my mom and a lady whom she knows (but who is a stranger to me) came up to us. She asked me when I was due and I told her. We were having the basic pregnancy small talk conversation - do I know what I'm having, how have I been feeling, etc - when she surprised me by asking me a question I have not yet heard in this pregnancy. The following documents our conversation.

"So, how is the baby laying in there?" (I was not 100% positive what she was asking me.)

"Pardon?"

"What I'm trying to ask is, well, where is the baby's head right now?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. It moves around an awful lot and I can't really distinguish between what parts are what." (Is it just me or is there no way for me to really know this at this stage?)

"Oh, hmm, I see." She says as she steps back from me and begins to really examine my tummy. "Well, because I'm looking at you here, and it seems to me as though your baby is somewhat transverse". (That means when baby is laying sideways)

"Oh, umm, okay."

(By this point I am thinking, "Dude ... what are you talking about?")

THEN ... she proceeds to begin poking me over and over again all over my belly.

"Yup. Your baby is transverse".

My mom and I walked away, both somewhat confused and perplexed by this conversation. I don't know if other people think it's quite as odd as I do, but it was definitely an experience unlike none other I've had when she began examining me in this way. When I told my SIL the story, she told me I should have been wearing this shirt:

(source)

Does anyone else have any strange pregnant belly touching stories?

The One With The Freezer

I have a multitude of hilarious stories about the FD that took place longgggggggg before I began blogging. I have often thought of documenting some of these so that he can never escape them they are permanently recorded. One of the best ones took place very shortly after we began dating. I doubt this, or any of the other stories, tops the one where he peed the bed on our "first date" but it's pretty good, nonetheless.

I give you: The One With The Freezer

The Dude and I had been dating for a few weeks, tops. He came to my house to visit for the weekend (remember, the start of our relationship was long distance), and my whole family was home.

Of course, the FD knew my whole family before we started dating as we had been long time friends, but the dynamics certainly change when you start getting to know a family as "your new girlfriend's family/possible future in-laws". Most normal people would put on their best behaviour and try to make a very good impression on the family. Heck, he had just peed the bed a few weeks ago, he should have been trying to make a good impression on me!

And of course, the Dude did exactly that.

Sort of.

I was doing some laundry downstairs in the laundry room, where my parents deep freezer was located. The FD was sitting in there chatting with me when he opened the lid and discovered that the freezer wasn't overly full.

"I bet I could fit in there." He said.

Yeah, okay, whatever. I already knew this Dude was a goof, what else should I expect?

The next thing I knew, he was actually climbing into the freezer and closing the lid on his head.

I opened it up and said something along the lines of, "Get out of there you idiot."

But of course, the wheels in his unfathomable creative mind starting turning.

He had an idea.

When he gets an idea, it's rarely a good thing.

When he gets an idea, you should ran. Fast. And far away.

But, let me remind you, we had only been dating for a few weeks, I didn't yet know these things.

"Go upstairs and tell your dad he needs to get something out of the freezer. Then I'll scare him."

So, of course, I did just that.

I went upstairs where my mom was preparing dinner and whispered, "Get Dad downstairs to look in the freezer. Evan's hiding in there and is going to scare him."

My mom, who has a real heart for practical jokes, was down with that.

She called to my Dad and asked him to run downstairs and grab a bag of corn out of the freezer.

Meanwhile, the Dude was downstairs, freezing his buns off while waiting for the plan to evolve.

If I recall correctly, my Dad was outside BBQing so I'm not sure how she convinced him to go down to get the corn when he saw me standing there. But anyway, he went.

And I followed, of course.

I could hardly contain myself as he approached the freezer.

As if in slow motion, he lifted the lid of the freezer, looked down and was greeted by a simple "Hello" from my Fabulous Dude.

My Dad shook and screamed like a little girl. In fact, he might have tinkled in his pants just a little bit. I wouldn't be surprised.

He was so shocked, that he immediately let go of the freezer lid, causing it to drop down and bash the Dude on the head.

Some of the other family members had quietly followed us downstairs to witness the prank and we were all in stitches.

And then we remembered to let the Dude out of the freezer.

He had a bit of a sore head, but I think he would agree that my Dad's reaction was worth it.

Over the next few months, anytime the Dude was around, everyone in my family was VERY cautious if anyone asked them to go to the freezer. The Dude's location always had to be secured before anyone would willingly open that door.

He hasn't managed to get himself into a freezer anytime in the past few years, but I wouldn't be surprised if this trick comes out to play again in his lifetime.

So, if you're ever around us and we ask you to grab something from the freezer, you just might want to find out where the Dude is first!

His Blessing for My Journey

In a post the other day, I mentioned a book that I'm currently reading entitled "Birthing From Within" that is based on a method of childbirth classes focusing on natural birth that is directed by the mother and geared toward self-awareness.

In the introduction the authors lay out some of their philosophies and assumptions and give some examples from the classes they teach. One of the main philosophies is that birth is a monumental rite of passage for a woman and not a medical event (even when medical care is necessary).

With this in mind, one thing she has her clients do during the classes is that secretly, she instructs the husbands to bring a wash basin, massage oil and flowers to the last class to give their wives a foot massage and to give them an opportunity to practice some of the relaxation techniques that they have learned.

And also, in keeping with her belief that birth is a rite of passage for the mother, she asks the fathers to bring with them a short blessing, prayer, or poem, ... something to give to their wives as a word of encouragement for her journey through this rite of passage.

For some reason, I thought it would be useful to tell the Fabulous Dude about this activity at dinner one night last week. Please do not ask me why I thought I should tell him. Perhaps it was my subconscious way of pleading with him to think of some super duper sweet romantic things to say to me about this pregnancy instead of things like "you're looking rather chubby today". I should have known better - because we all know that my husband is the king of all sarcasm and insensitivity.

So this is how our conversation went down:

Lucy: "So, I read about an activity that is done at some childbirth classes where the instructor asks the fathers to bring a wash basin, massage oils, and flowers to give their wives a foot rub. And she also asks them to write down some kind of blessing, prayer, or poem to give to them for their journey through pregnancy and childbirth".

Fabulous Dude: "Wait, so is this from that book you are reading or something that they are going to do at the classes we are taking?"

Lucy: "From the book. I don't know if they do something like this at the classes we are taking. Why? Do you have something stupid to say about it and you don't want to say it if it's something we're going to have to do?"

Fabulous Dude: " No, no, not at all. I was just thinking that I already know exactly what I would want to write for my blessing to you."

Lucy (as my hope for some type of uncharacteristic romanticism is mounting): " Oh yea, and what is that?"

Fabulous Dude (.... smirking ....): "GET 'ER DONE"

Why is he so sweet?!

Who Wouldn't Love This Face?

My younger cousins both have Nintendo DSi's which we all have fun fighting over playing with when we are together as a family. One of the features on them, is that they have a camera built in and you can do all sorts of whacky, special effects. Quite often, she posts funny pictures from her DSi on her Facebook account. I had forgotten about the time we spent playing around with the camera when we were at their house last fall for Thanksgiving until this morning when I signed into Facebook and saw she had uploaded some new pictures. I hope she won't mind me stealing her photos and posting them here. But I just had to.

I give you my Fabulous Dude. The one I love. The one I chose.

Chocolate Ice Cream and Cousins

This weekend we spent the weekend with my sister, her hubby and Little H. Sessy and D just bought a house and are scurrying away to get all the renos done so they can be moved in and (at least somewhat) settled before Baby #2, who is due early June, arrives. While the big boys were busy working away at the house, the girls and Little H headed out to get some ice cream. Little H sure did enjoy his and was a very enthusiastic photography subject. As soon as he realized he could see how messy his face was every time I took a picture, he kept saying "Mores face", meaning "take more pictures of my face please". I'll let the pictures do the talking, I don't have to tell you what a ham he is!

Since this will likely be the last time Sessy and I are together before her baby comes into the world, and the only time we've been together when we were both obviously showing, we thought we should get a few pictures of us together when we are both pregnant. Here we are, me at 20.5 weeks and her at 34.5 weeks. These are officially the first pictures of these two cousins together!

I told you I was a mature grown up...

On Thursday night, we had a few of our close friends over to ring in the New Year. One of my besties, C-Biscuit, brought an old, cherished friend along with her - her Onesie PJs.

You see, a number of years ago, she had a strong desire to own a pair of Onesie PJs. Her then boyfriend, now husband searched high and low for a pair to appease her desire. Eventually, he was able to find a pair - on Ebay - and purchased them for her.

Her dreams had come true.

One day, C-Biscuit and I decided it would be fun to see if we could both fit into the PJs at the same time.

It was disastrous. But fun.

So naturally, now that six years have passed, a few pounds have been gained, and much more wisdom has been acquired, we thought that it would be a great idea to attempt the feat once more.

Let me tell you, a pair of onesie PJs, two grown women, and a very slippery floor do not make a good combination.

We've got the bruises to prove it. Well, she does, mostly.

There is a reason why they are called Onesies and not Twosies.

Most Blogworthy Moment of All Time

Over the holidays, while my family is all together we spend a lot of time playing games. Some of our favourites are Rock Band (obvs), scrabble, sequence, dominoes, scattegories, pictionary and catch phrase. Last night, after the parents and the preggo my dear sister had gone to bed, the rest of us youngen's stayed up playing a game that we hadn't played in a number of years.

Headbanz.

If you've never played the game before, it is essentially a glorified version of 20 questions. Each player has a card that they wear in a headband on their forehead, so that they cannot see it, but the others can. Each question is a Who, What, or Where. You then ask the other players Yes or No questions to try to determine what's on your card. While we were playing this game, the fabulous dude gave me some sweet blog material that will help draw my 2009 blogging year to hilarious completion.

During one round last night, my brother had a Who card and the person he was trying to guess was "Picasso".

He had it narrowed down to being a painter, from Spain, who lived in the 1900s and whose first name was Pablo. Unfortunately, he was still stumped.

The fabulous dude thought he'd help a brother out.

"Think 16. Think 14, 15, 16. Think 14th, 15th, 16th. SIXTEENTH." He said.

The rest of us, Logi, Dave, and I, were clearly a bit confused about this clue.

Logi tried to figure it out and said, "I think he means think about the 16th letter of the alphabet." (Because, you know, P is the sixteenth letter and Picasso starts with a P).

At this point, the fabulous dude said, "No. That's not what I mean. I mean, think about the SIXTEENTH CHAPEL".

Needless to say, we all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Pop nearly squirted out my nose.

The fabulous dude didn't understand why we were laughing at first but then thought he figured it out.

"Oh yeah, I must be confused. It wasn't Picasso who painted the SIXTEENTH CHAPEL, it was Michelangelo, right?"

I put him out of his misery by explaining that we were not laughing hysterically at him because he had the painter confused but because he was calling the SISTINE chapel the SIXTEENTH CHAPEL.

Too bad Picasso only made it so far as completing the Fifteenth Chapel.

Reason #56824 that I love this crazy fabulous dude - he always gives me a reason to laugh - sometimes with him, and sometimes at him.

adanaC ni "ereH revO" daeR eW woH

I have mentioned a number of times in the past that I live about 20 minutes from the closest border into the USA and that I occasionally go over to do some shopping. On Friday, my brother decided to take the day off so he and his wife could go get some Christmas shopping done and they offered to take me along with them. I jumped on the chance to go with them!

We had a great day of shopping and from that day, this story emerged.

I'm sure you are all familiar with the common stereotype that Americans don't know anything about Canadians.

Well, I know that this stereotype is not true.

I have more than enough American friends who realize that I do not live in an igloo, that I do not drive a dogsled to work and that I even wear shorts in the hot summer months.

I know most Americans are fully aware that day-to-day life in Canada is not very different from day-to-day life in the states.

But, unfortunately, as with all ill-founded stereotypes, there are bound to be the select few individuals who provide evidence to suggest that these stereotypes do, in fact, exist. And what's even more unfortunate, is when this evidence comes from someone who lives close enough to Canada that they could almost walk there.

I came into contact with one such individual on Friday while shopping in Buffalo.

I was all set to check out at Marshall's and took my merchandise up to the counter. While the lady was ringing my purchases through, she said to her coworker, "I finally figured out why Canadians always enter the line wrong."

(Background: it's the kind of line that has a sign that says 'Please Enter Here' and requires you to walk through a maze like line to get to the checkout, whether or not other people are in line.)

Obviously as soon as the checkout lady said this, I was intrigued to find out what her reasoning for this claim would be. But I kept my mouth shut.

"Why?" Asked the co-worker.

"Well, because Canadians learn to read right to left and bottom to top, so they can't understand our sign."

I could hardly believe my ears!

"WHAT?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, I found out today that Canadians read right to left and bottom to top so they can't understand the sign and enter the line from the wrong way."

"Well, I'm Canadian and I don't read that way. Where did you get this information?" I asked her.

"A Canadian lady, an older lady, was here this morning and she tried to butt in line and I explained to her how the line worked. She told me she didn't understand the sign because she reads right to left and bottom to top."

I could not believe how serious this woman seemed.

"Well, I'm sorry. But either that woman was crazy or she was trying to yank your chain." I informed her.

What I didn't inform her was that likely the lady was trying to yank her chain, since I know lots of Canadians who like to see what kind of things they can make Americans believe about us.

A look of relief crossed the checkout lady's face and she said, "Good. I was so upset about this all morning. You know, my poor nephew lives over there [sidenote: I love her use of the terms 'poor' and 'over there' as though Canada is some distant land where one should not dare to venture] and I was afraid he was going to learn to read all wrong."

I assured her that her poor nephew would likely fare just fine as a result of being brought up over there in Canada and that he would, luckily, learn to read from left to right and top to bottom just like he should.

I laughed about this for the rest of the day. Actually, the rest of the weekend. No, scratch that, I'm still laughing about it now.

So this message is for all of my dear American readers, please continue to send me comments and e-mails in left to right, top to bottom format ... I'll figure it out. Somehow, I am sure I'll manage over here in Canada.