PRESENTS!!!

So Christmas is coming.

YAY!!!!

I am finished shopping and decorating and will attempt baking soon.

If you follow my life, (but heck knows why you would), then you may know that I gave up on buying millions of gifts for all my fabulous friends a couple years ago. I opted instead to do the whole charity thing.

HOWEVER. This year is hella special. My friends are kinda back together. Sorta like a band reuniting? Mary has a great house, Rae moved back and has a great new house (two blocks from mine!!) And we got us a brand new shiny Tenille. So's I felt like getting them a little some'thun.

That's right. They're all getting the Slap Chop. They're going to have an exciting life now. (I'm keeping the Graty, bitches...yer not THAT special.)

But I still have to do a little charity right? Trouble is, I bore easily. I don't feel like Operation Christmas Child because the whole shoe box thing is maybe not enough, and they're doing it through school now anyways. And I gave cash to Ronald McDonald house a couple years ago and ...no free quarter pounder. SERIOUSLY??

So this year I saw the commercials for Plan Canada Gifts. I checked it out and am leaning towards a nice family size goat. For 75 bucks, you can improve a family's livelihood, health and education. And really, who doesn't want to say they gave somebody a goat for Christmas? Better than a Slap Chop, no?

My problem is finding the legitimacy of this site. I saw the commercials on TV, so I'm sure it's real. But how much of the money is going to the families that need it? Does anybody know about this? Or does anyone have better recommendations?

Happy Giving Everybody!!!

I've got the spirit!!

I know it's early. And how do I know it's early?

Because I haven't turned the Graham house into Halloween heaven yet. Y'all know how I love me some Halloween spirit.

But whatev. I'm starting my Christmas lists early this year. Yes, perhaps I say that every year, but maybe, just maybe, Mama Graham will accomplish it all! That's right! I will miraculously finish my shopping, decorating, baking and card writing whilst singing carols and tramping all over hockey rinks by November 1st. HOO YA!

SO without further adieu...

MAMA WANTS

a snugglie. it's a blanket with arms. you've seen it on QVC. no? Only I am up with horrible insomnia at 2 am when there's nothing else on but Felicity (gag, gag, puke)?

sweatpants and hoodies. My jeans don't fit anymore because my left thigh got fat and the seams rubbed a horrible red mark into them. AND, it has nothing to do with those 2 Mars bars I had for breakfast on Tuesday, do you hear me? NOTHING.

DADDY G. WANTS

tools. (He has no use for tools and is a complete floundering helpless minion when it comes to any type of renos. That's why I do the caulking, drywall filling and sanding in this house. That's right. I'm incredible.)

SHELBY WANTS

a cell phone. HAHA...
Can I get a group "NEVVAAAAHHHH " here? (Ideas are welcome on what to buy a little miss tween who won't wear dresses and thinks Hannah Montana is super gay.)

OSCAR WANTS

hockey stuff.

I just cannot wait for Halloween and Christmas.

Big ole cheapskate

I'm not a big jewellery wearer, as most people know. Every now and then I'll slap on a cheap necklace, or funky earrings, but they usually end up in a cup holder or purse pocket before I reach my destination. I like the look on other people, but just can't seem to pull it off, not to mention, the feel of something pulling my ears off, or choking me is NOT pleasant.

SO...I've been toying with an idea.

I've never been one for fancy. Keep your prada shoes, fake nails, and coach bags.

However, I LOVE my blue topaz wedding ring, and really admire my Barry for getting his wedding band tattooed on his finger.

Why not do that? Why not tattoo something with a shade of blue on my finger? And while I'm at it, why not get a little flower or peace symbol tattooed on my ear lobes? I'd never have to stress about jewellery again!!

SHOULD I???? Big decision.

I'll keep y'all informed.

A Date with Oscar

Barry's been working late in the city all week, and Shelby is now old enough to go "hang" around town with other tweens, so tonight, it was just me and my boyo.

Oscar always treats me extra special when Barry's away, even going so far as to call me "wife" as Daddy does. He opens doors for me, carries ALL the groceries, and cuddles me with blankets.

Tonight, he decided that we should go on a date.
Okay, son.

First, we walked to the post office where he mailed a letter. Then he asked if I wanted to go throw rocks in the river at the train bridge. Of course.

As we stopped to look both ways, he took my hand to cross main street. (He held it the rest of the way home. )

He stopped on a bench in the grassy area of main street in case I wanted to rest. He then entertained me with dance moves and crazy made-up rock songs.

We sang songs most of the way home. He asked me lots of questions about my childhood. I showed him where the bakery used to be, where some of my old friends used to live, and where the apartments used to be a pharmacy. He acted very interested and wished he could've been alive to have a donut with me at that bakery back then.

When we got home he helped me with the supper dishes, and asked me about how much I love Daddy and why. He said it was a good thing that I got Daddy because not all boys are as funny and handsome as him. I agreed.

After the dishes, he told me to sit on the couch so he could read me a romantic book. I waited and he brought out "Dora and Boots Valentines Picnic".

When Shelby arrived home, we had her take a picture of our date because he said we both looked really cool tonight with our hats.

It was probably the best date I've ever had (no offense Barry).

Until he farted and almost made both of us puke.

.

We Are Canadian!!

Why do I love Canada Day so much?

For one, remember how I LOVE me a parade?

Well, I STILL love me a parade. I got to be the parade photographer and I'm pretty sure that I'll be snapping pics of Canada's Next Top Models once they see my work. That is, if I ever get them copied to a disc and sent off to the rec office.

And well we're on the parade topic, OUR float was the best, oh yes it was! (Only because Emerson kids are the cutest)

Next up, the FABULOUS adventures in the park, and of course, naturally this year, the highlight was the fish pond. Coincidentally it was run by yours truly. Shout out to Angie and Doris for their generous prize donations and putting a lot of happy smiles on kids faces. IT WAS OFF THE HOOK FUN. I am devastated over the fact that I forgot to snap a pic of my Under the Sea adventure, so if anyone out there has one, PLEASE, send it to me, I would be so grateful. Some people questioned who was having more fun? Myself - carnie extraordinaire, or the kiddies.

Free swimming, fun baseball, beer gardens, great entertainment and my BEST friends all made this one of the best Canada Day's yet.

And yes, I've needed the occasional Advil since then.

Should I or Shouldn't I?

I don't have a cell phone. I know. I KNOW.

There are a few good reasons I don't have one. For one, people might call me. Another, they may TEXT me. And obviously, they're expensive.

However, I also do not own an i-pod, my digital camera's batteries die every 5 minutes, and my last good watch is leaving some nasty tan lines. Not to mention, silly Barry took Nuvi (my GPS) to Niagara Falls with him, so I can't venture further than Altona for the next week. To be honest, last time she helped me out, she led me down some back roads out east where I swear I could hear banjo music playing eerily in the ditches. I also swear that when she repeatedly said "recalculating, recalculating" about 40 times, I could detect tone. And quite frankly, I didn't appreciate that.

So.
I was wondering if maybe I should consider getting a cell phone? Y'ALL know that you can have every single one of those features in your phone? SERIOUSLY. And I just read somewhere today that soon you'll be able to pay for a bucket of chicken with your cell phone. That's right. They can program your credit card information right into your phone now which totally sounds safe to me.

So anyhoo. I figured I was always pretty radtacular as a youngster, why stop now? If I could master the Sony Walkman or the Polaroid instamatic, I'm surely ready for a blackberry, right?

I'm sure there's some kind of medication out there for my fear of phones which, by the way, is TOTALLY A LEGITIMATE MEDICAL CONDITION.

Oscar is 8!

If I were having an eighth birthday party, I would not spend the entire time playing lawn hockey with a tennis ball.

I would also NOT want a hockey rink dessert pizza or hockey cupcakes.

I probably wouldn't get zillions of hockey related gifts.

My son needs help.

Tidbits from my Brain

I was just thinking…

This weekend was awesome; Barry is a good Mothers Day husband and my kids ROCK at it. I got a beautiful necklace with their names and birthstones and a great big fat book to read.

Kim brought the BEST chocolate covered strawberries over for Trivial Pursuit on Saturday night and I cannot stop thinking about them. They were the best EVAH.

Everyone keeps posting the most beautiful pictures of their babies on facebook and I WANT ONE!! Not a child. Just a baby. A cute one.

Summer is nearly here, so I need to lose about 5 pounds, get a fabulous tan and paint my toes. AND…I’m almost done work! YAY!! I hope to drink plenty of Bud Lites, eat burgers, and hang out with my buddies ALL summer.

I may or may not put in my garden this weekend. I have decided not to get all drama queenie about my garden this year. WILL NOT STRESS. Will not plant unnecessary things. Will not plant things I do not like. Will allow occasional weeds. (maybe)

My new PC is wondrous. It has supergiant Mah-Jong tiles (which is my favourite game)!! It is faster than the speed of light AND…I have been staring at the screen a lot. Just staring. I even opened it up to check out the motherboard. We’re just getting to know each other. I guess it’s like the honeymoon phase. SHHHH…don’t tell old PC.

My birthday is coming. I can Feeeeeel it!

Being a Hockey Widow

“He Shoots, He Scores!”
Four of the most powerful words on earth.
They have the power not only to turn grown men into little boys, but to turn wives into widows at the push of a button.

Unfortunately for me, I not only have a hockey obsessed husband, my sweet 7 year old son has come down with the disease as well. (I question whether this has anything to do with the fact that his father was watching playoffs whilst I was painfully labouring him?)

What it's like at the Graham house during playoff season:

My TV is no longer for me or Shelby. The timer is set for games on a daily basis. Good bye “Dancing With the Stars”, “American Idol”, or CSI. Even when the game isn’t on, some horrible show like “Pardon the Interruption” or “Off the Record” is. It’s excruciating.

The girls are not allowed in the living room unless we promise to be silent. Isn’t hockey supposed to be a visual game? Why are THEY allowed to yell like mentally deranged apes??

Our dinner table is no longer being used. We have set the TV tables up semi-permanently in the living room. Our children drink from their lucky hockey mugs every meal.

I fully believe Barry would be more attracted to me if I came out in a canary yellow suit, a fruit adorned tie, and a dog named Blue, rather than some sexy lacy lingerie.

My son has to mask his growing love for Boston Bruins right now as they are playing the Canadiens. If you know Barry, you know that he is a member of the Church of Latter Day Habs. So that would mean we would have to put poor Oscar up for adoption. Poor, poor, Oscar. He’s not even allowed to be true to himself!

Oscar has learned what “drinkability” means and has asked me to go get him a “Bud Lite” at snack time.


Behind our couch are two small nets, 2 sticks, street goalie equipment and a ball. During intermissions or non-hockey shows, Barry and Oscar act as their favourite players and hammer the ball at each other, my bay window, my piano, and my picture frames.


I hear chants of “Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole” continuously throughout the day. The sing it when you least expect it, and least want to hear it. It is a most dreaded sound in this house.


I am secretly praying that the Montreal Canadiens get eliminated tonight, so that I get a little relief. If not, someone send help. PLEASE.

What happened to Oscar?

Spring Break started out great. I hate flying so I cried, but the kids liked it.

Rae Ann and Gary were wonderful hosts and we had a great time the first few days. We took in the hockey fall of fame, CN tower and did a little shopping. We had lots of fun with our favorite family and miss them tons already.

A few hours after our arrival at Niagara Falls, Oscar became very ill. The next 36 hours consisted of Oscar puking and diarrea-ing about every 15 minutes. 6 hours after Oscar started vomiting, Shelby also started, although not nearly as much. For two nights, Barry and I were awake the entire time, taking care of our sick children. We did not get to take in the Falls. Shelby got better quite quickly. Oscar did not. He progressively and frighteningly got worse.

By the time we checked out of the hotel, I knew he needed medical attention. We drove back to Hamilton and took him to Urgent Care. They transferred him to the Pediatric Unit at the local hospital where he was listed in severe condition and given immediate IV therapy. It was very scary (I balled my eyes out) to watch my boy deteriorate so fast that day. His dehydration had caused his blood pressure and his heart rate to drop and his kidneys to make too many creatins (whatever that means). He has very little memory of that day until nighttime. He awoke and started asking about hockey scores. That was when we knew he would be okay. The next day, his vitals were good, although he was still battling fever, and not eating. We still don't know what kind of virus caused this. It was certainly not your standard flu.

We had to change our flight to make sure that he was okay to come home. He was released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon and we are now home. He is exhausted, but is doing much better. He is joking around, and eating and drinking lots.

Not only am I never leaving my yard again, I am placing my son in a glass bubble for the next 15 years.
Don't try to stop me.

Gnarly.

You know how you know when you’re cool?

When you hang out in foggy basements of clubs sitting on red couches listening to electronica - you’re wearing giant scarves around your neck, ballet slippers, and ordering crantinis - and having meaningless NONversation with the lifetime students studying world affairs.

OH FART. That’s not me. It wasn’t me 15 years ago when I DID go, and it’s not me now, when I WON’T go.

Here’s my idea of cool. Or “rockstar”, or “wicked tight”…or whatever you kids call it these days.

I like to call it “being a mom”. Here's a few reasons why.

I get to read to my kids. EVERY DAY. Sometimes it’s the same book over and over. Sometimes its not. I read Twilight just cuz my eleven year old recommended it to me. Turns out it was awesome. I mean radtacular.

I do a pretty rad ape impression and will do so on command. My kids love it and squeal in delight when I chase them around the house arms swinging and head bobbing. You should all try it. I learned it from SuperKewl Dad.

My boyo likes to go on the escalator again and again… and I let him. Because “it’s just like a ride, Mommy!”

I get to see the first joys of winning a hockey game, riding on an airplane, seeing Niagara Falls, and eating Mongo’s stirfry all through the big bright eyes of a grateful child.

I have kids who will alarmingly look for days into the corners and crevices of the earth (or the Emerson Skating Rink), when Mommy loses her lucky pocket ninja. We never found him, but who needs him when you have two little lucky charms by your side anyways?

And the biggest reason I’m cool?

I get to dance with these two.

What love means to me...

The most romantic present I ever got.

I will cherish it all year long.

I love you husband.

Wii like to Play!

My name is Mommy, and I’m a Wii addict.

It started Christmas day. I wasn’t afraid, for I’d never played video games and saw no use for them.

But after making my first Mii, I realized how talented I really was. Well, I mean, er…sorta was. SHELBY IS ELEVEN, PEOPLE! OF COURSE SHE SHOULD BE BETTER AT TENNIS!!!! (And everything else.)

I first noticed a problem when I felt the urge to fire the Wii guitar through the bay window. It’s not the guitar’s fault that I’m left handed and incapable. Right?

Later, when I realized that I’m the GREATEST ROCKBAND SINGER IN THE WORLD (oops, did I yell that? sorry), I noticed that I had stayed up until 4 a. m. singing Iron Maiden songs. I don’t even LIKE Iron Maiden!! (Rae, if you’re reading this…I’m sending you the video of me, Gabb, and Barry performing Run To The Hills…it’s horrific, have a glass of wine before you watch it)

The kicker came when I went out to buy my kids new clothes because I didn’t have time to attempt the volcanoes of laundry that had piled up in my disgusting house. I don’t remember laundry. Cooking? For the meek. We eat pizza now. In front of the TV. Family suppers are for the Waltons.

I have tennis elbow, bowling wrist pain, and my right thumbnail is flattened. I walk through the house and randomly yell "WARIO" for no particular reason. I was even busted on more than one occasion by my sweetheart, sitting out in the middle of the living room floor at 2 a.m - Mario Kart wheel in one hand, bowl of Captain Crunch in the other. Barry began to get concerned.

So what did he do? What any good husband would do. He bought me Wii curling last night. I heart him.