Confessions of a BAD mother

It's not that I'm a horrible mother. I mean, you know, I 'm not totally selfish. Sure I push my kids out of the way during a parade to get good candy. And yeah, maybe I post embarassing potty pics of them all over my facebook and then add their friends....and when I finally give in and let Shelby finally have a facebook...oh my. There will be little "I love you sunshine bunny" notes all over her wall. (Heeeheee...I can't wait!!)

But that's totally not the point of this write-up. In my glorious state of bad motherness, I'm looking for some recipes. I'm amidst my back to school baking, and I want to freeze a bunch of cookies. But cookies are my best friend and never seem to get into the kids hands. It's true. I love cookies SOOO much that I make them for me, myself and MOI. I hide them in margarine containers labeled "BORSCHT 2004" and lay them at the bottom of the freezer where a child could never venture. I eat them for breakfast in the bathroom while I'm pretending to shower. Or at 3 a.m. when I get up for my ritual insomnia snack. My poor kids will ask for cookies and I'll direct them to the rock-hard Harmonie brand store bought ones in the pantry.

So I need to find a recipe that is delicious to the kids, but not to me. A challenging task, no? So fellow mothers (or fathers) please inbox me your recipes. Make them easy ones, and perhaps ones with oatmeal (I don't care for it.

Give the poor Graham kids a chance at cookies.

Softball Stinker

You know, you can brag all you like about what a fantastic ball player you were, and that's all fine and dandy. (and entirely untrue)
UNTIL...
you get asked to play AGAIN. Like this Saturday. With new people. In a strange town.
So for the record, here's the truth.
I played with all my heart in my first ever softball tournament on Canada Day.
I did NOT hit any home runs. I did NOT make it to first base. I did NOT run fast, although I thought I did.
I DID catch the ball at home plate, but ran away from the plate when things got intense so the pitcher could cover.
I DID get people out on second base, but only two. I did NOT catch any pop flies.
I may or may not have peed a little in my pants after one really good hit, thus having to leave the game and run the quarter of a mile to the nearest washroom leaving the team wondering where I went.
If y'all were under the impression that I was some natural born athlete, I apologize. I led you on.
I shall report the truth from here on in, as all of southern Manitoba will soon know... I suck at ball.

Gardening 101

My garden is in. ALL IN.

So I have a totally new approach this year. Forget organic. Forget gently plucking the weeds out one by one. Forget picking off the potato bugs or hanging a fake wasp nest to deter stinging pests. NONE OF THAT WORKS, PEOPLE.

The soul-sucking weeds and the satanic hornets who decided to hibernate in tunnels in my innocent little garden are declaring war. And I'm not going down without a fight.

Husband and I are armed with twenty different brands of chemicals, poison and flamethrowers. Those weeds don't stand a chance!! And the hornets? Well, I've already been stung once and short of pouring gasoline down all the holes, I'm not sure what to do. But back-pack Barry has sprayed poison all over the entire yard (don't bring your children over to play), so hopefully they've all died a slow and painful death.

If you're worried about the health and safety of my family once we start eating our radioactive lettuce and explosive carrots, don't fret. I will wash everything before it comes into this house. And if the bunnies manage to crawl through the hole in the fence that Shelby attacked with the lawn mower, then too bad. DIE BUNNIES, DIE.

I feel clever and powerful and impishly evil.

Wish me luck friends.

In 20 years....

My favourite son is taking this two week class at school called "The 2020 Program." It basically tells you where you'll be when you're 30.

The idea is to plan your entire life before you're 9. It's pretty cool.

So let's pretend Oscar is now 30. Here is what he's come up with in this class:

He is a long haul truck driver. He is unmarried, no children, and lives in a meager house on I9 (wherever that is). He drives a motorcycle that has winter tires. He also hopes that he can play in the NHL on the side. (but that wasn't an option when they were picking their careers so he just verbalized that to me at suppertime)

Now this is not exactly what I had planned for my future humanitarian. My plans go something like this:

My 30 year old Oscar is an accountant (pays well and is physically safe). He lives across the street from his parents in a lovely house with a kind-hearted wife (who he doesn't love more than his mother).He has three perfectly adorable children that LOVE their grandma. He volunteers at a soup kitchen on the weekends and coaches kids sports every night of the week. He drives a safe and reliable hybrid minivan and visits his mother every other day to help her with her garden.

As you can see, our plans are rather different. So I tried to think back to when I was around his age. What were my dreams? Where did I think I would be? So I looked in an old school journal.

It went something like this:

I hope to be a country western singer on the Tommy Hunter show. I think I'll have a pretty good chance because I do a lot of singing. I also hope to have some daughters. And I'll probably still be raising cats. I think I'm going to copy the style of Loretta Lynn or Crystal Gayle. If the singing doesn't work out, I'll stick to being an actress.

So its not exactly how things turned out for me. But I'd say I'm doing alright. I will strongly attempt to support Oscar in his current goals. ( But I will most certainly drop hints that accountants get all the chicks.)

If I weren't a Hockey Mom

If I weren't a hockey Mom...

I wouldn't have the ability to stay warm in -35 degree rinks. I'd be a chicken and stay home.

I wouldn't be so feisty and fierce like a mamma grizzly bear. Oscar really didn't know that you can't throw your stick into the net to save a goal.

I would have a better singing voice as I would not lose it each weekend from my wild and crazy cheering.

I would not know the stats of every NHL team and be forced to sing OLE OLE OLE OLE...blah blah blah every time the Habs score a goal.

I would not have two mini nets set up in my living room as permanent fixtures and paint chips in the wall from ball hockey every night before bed.

My heart would not have dropped into my stomach when Shelby body checked that poor kid last weekend and got sent to the penalty box. I must come to terms with the fact that she is on her way to being the GOON of the team.

I would not know how to raise the puck, and YES, I really did just learn that the other day. Or drive a mini-van and strategically fit 5 hockey bags, sticks and extra kids into it.

I would not have nearly all the lines to Mighty Ducks 1, 2 and 3 memorized from watching it in the van on the way to all ends of the earth for our games.

I would have my weekends back. Chores might be done. Video games might be played. But even then, it would probably be NHL 2k10.

I wouldn't have already wrote about this here , here, and here.

I would not have witnessed the camaraderie and bond that occurs between team mates. How I LOVE to watch my kids go pat their goalie at the end of a game. Win or Lose.

I f I weren't a hockey mom, I would've missed out on one of the best eras of my life! I'm so proud of my kids and their teammates!


GO STEELERS!

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.