Why, why, why, why, why…

She's such a good kid. She's such a good kid that I hate to ever, ever complain about something she's doing because, well, she's such a good kid!

But good God, for the love of all that is holy, could somebody please tell me how you make the never ending WHY questions stop? She started with the questions a few weeks ago, and in those few shorts weeks I have gone from "Super Earnest Mommy Who Tries To Make All Every Day Situations Into A Learning Experience," to "Crazy Lady Who Will Buy You Some Skittles If You Just Stop Asking Me Why A Horsie Is Called A Horsie!"

Seriously, here is an actual conversation we had today:

"What are you doing Mommy?"
"I'm doing laundry."
"Why are you doing laundry?"
"Because the clothes are dirty, and we need to make them clean."
"Why do we need to make them clean?"
"Because we can't wear clothes that are dirty and smelly, silly!"
"Why can't we wear clothes that are dirty and smelly silly?"
"Because that's yucky! And we like to be clean. Don't you like to be clean?"
"We like to be clean? Why do we like to be clean?"
"Because it doesn't feel very nice to be dirty…"
"Why doesn't feel very nice to be dirty?"
"Are you hungry? Would you like some oranges for a snack?"
"Why are you making oranges for a snack?"

It's like this all day long. She follows me everywhere I go and asks me endless streams of questions in an infinite loop. I mean, I'm certainly glad she's a smart and inquisitive kid, and intellectually I know that this is just a phase that she's going through. But seriously! How long does this phase last? Because I think I can make it through a couple more months, but much longer than that and I think my head is going to explode.

Look! She doesn't even do the cheater push-ups!

The other day, my friend Julie posted on Facebook that she needed people to give her some motivation to exercise, and I joked that I should send Gracie over to her house.

Because that child of mine is sure to grow up to be someone's personal trainer. She loves to exercise. In fact, the first thing she wants to do when she gets up in the morning is exercise.

"Come on Mommy! It's time to do our exercises!"
"How about we have some breakfast first, so Mommy has some energy to exercise."
"Oh - Kay," she says, head bowed and heading to the breakfast table in total disappointment.

Once breakfast is over, she will tolerate me cleaning up and doing a load of laundry, but then it's get your butt to the Wii Fit time. Seriously. It's pretty good for me, I think. And probably my butt.

Pick something else

When I was in my early teens, and had reached the age when everyone started asking me what I was going to be when I was done high school, the first answer I ever gave was: A Teacher.

I LOVE kids, and it seemed like the dream job to me. I figured I could spend most of the year teaching and spend my summers writing the children's books I had floating around in my head. And then, when I was older and had kids of my own, I would always be home for them when they were on school vacations. To me, it seemed like a no brainer. Teacher. Done.

But when I started telling people that's what I wanted to do, there was not one person who told me it sounded like a good idea. Not one word of encouragement, not one person who thought I should.

"You'll spend your life dealing with unreasonable parents!"
"You don't want to be around other people's little monsters all day, every day, do you?"
"You'll spend your evenings marking papers instead of having time to yourself."

Even my grandmother, who was A TEACHER, tried to talk me out of it, giving me a little speech I will never forget:

"Good God girl! When I was your age, there were only two jobs a woman could have. Teacher or nurse. You live in a time when you can do anything you want. Anything! PICK SOMETHING ELSE!" The last sentence was spoken so loudly and forcefully that she actually spit on me. I never said I wanted to be a teacher ever again.

Fast forward 20 years, and I'm now a volunteer teacher for Gracie's little playgroup. Every Tuesday, I get to dance around to The Wheels on the Bus, read stories to a sea of cute little faces looking up at me while they eat a snack, and then help them all make a little craft. And you know what? I love every single minute of it.

I can't even put into words how much I love being the Tuesday morning teacher. I love being around small children. They make me happy right to my core. Whenever I see a little one, I break out into an involuntary smile. I don't even mean to, it just happens. I give them the widest smile I've got, and I almost always get a smile back, and maybe even a little wave.

Whenever I'm around little kids, the worries of the world melt away. I feel lighter, happier, and I can't stop smiling. I like listening to the long winded stories of "and then…and then…and then…" I like it when they bring me their treasures to show me. I like asking them a question in the middle of a story, and hearing a chorus of: "it's a kangaroo!!!!"

I'm having so much fun that sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have stuck to my guns when I was younger, and done what I wanted to do. Of course, I don't regret my time working in newspaper. If I hadn't gone into journalism, I would never have met Nathan, and we wouldn't have gotten married or had Gracie. And it goes without saying that I loved all the years I spent working with him too.

But I sure do love being the Tuesday morning teacher.

Ta Da!

So, what do you think?

First of all, this isn't the best picture. With the lighting in my kitchen, I'm having trouble taking a picture that doesn't make the wall look slightly green. It's really a kind of sand-ish color, with gold undertones. And honestly, I must admit that I liked my red kitchen better. But we want the house to sell quickly, so we thought a more neutral color would probably be the way to go.

Up to my eyeballs in primer

Sorry everyone. That whole new year's resolution thingy didn't work out so well, huh? Except for one. I got a new client to do some work for, so that's kinda taken up my time.

Also, we have decided to paint the kitchen, the entryway, the half bath, and maybe even the living room. Which I'm supposed to be doing right now. We are doing this so that we might have an easier time selling our house when we list it at the end of the month. Because apparently, other people don't like bright red kitchens and forest green entryways. Who knew?

Anyhoo, better get back to painting. Tomorrow -- pics of the finished product!

The only resolution blog you'll read that DOESN'T include weight loss

I'm not really a New Year's Resolution kinda gal. There's just something about the freezing temperatures and hardly any daylight that makes January kind of bleak, and not at all conducive to having the energy to start something new. Honestly, before I had Gracie, I spent most of the winter curled up on the couch with a good book and a bowl of popcorn.

But a month ago, my Mom introduced me to the wonders of Extra Vitamin D, and I tell you, I've got more energy than I've had in YEARS! (Seriously, fellow Canadians. You have to try it. 3000 units of Vitamin D and you'll feel like a new person!) And with this newfound energy, I'm thinking what the hell, why not try a few of these resolution thingies.

So, I give you Denice's New Year's Resolutions, 2010 Edition:

1. Blog More Often. In the last two months, seven different people on seven different occasions have told me how much they loved to read my blog, you know, back when I actually used to post a couple of times a week instead of a couple of times a month. And, when I actually find the time to do it, I really LOVE this blog. So, I'm going to make more time (read: spend less time reading other people's blogs) and do some more writing here.

2. Find a Way to Make Some Money. I love being a stay at home mom. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that right here, right now is the happiest I've ever been in my adult life. But… I still feel guilty every day that I'm not doing anything to contribute some income to the family bank account. We're certainly not starving to death, but we're on a pretty tight budget, and that is entirely my fault. So, I'm going to start looking for things I can do from home to generate a little extra income. (Anybody wanna buy an ad on my blog? Seriously - anybody? BlogHer? Federated Media? I've got, like, 30 people per week!)

3. Read More Books. A do read a lot, it's just that what I've been reading lately is Bloggers. And I love my bloggers. I'm not sure what I would do without my daily dose of Dooce, and Amalah, and The Pioneer Woman and the Farm Chicks. But I'm kind of craving something that takes a little longer than 5 minutes to read, and so, I think I'm going to start breaking into that large pile of books that I have bought over the last five years or so, and actually read them.

And I was also thinking: wouldn't it be fun if I had a little Denice-isms Book Club? Who wants to read with me? I'll pick a new book each month, so you've got a whole month to read it, and I'll post what I thought of the book at the end of the month, and you can all leave your comments and let me know what you thought. What do you think? Who's with me?

The first book I thought I would read is: The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd. Now, I'll admit, the one and only reason that I want to read this one is that I have a bit of a thing for bees. (I'll tell you more about my bee-aficiando ways when I write about the book at the end of the month). But I'm guessing that it's actually about people, and not bees. But there's bees in the title! So I'm holding out hope.

…And a Happy New Year!

It appears that through all my complaining about getting ready for Christmas, I forgot to actually wish you all a Merry Christmas, like I had intended to do when I started writing that last post. So, Merry Christmas Everybody!!! And Happy New Year!

We had quite a wonderful few days visiting family and taking the new truck on it's maiden family voyage. I'm pleased to announce that the heated seats work VERY WELL, and we were able to fit all of our luggage, Gracie's bag full of stuffed animals that must travel with us at all times, AND 8,000 presents (give or take a few) into that beautiful new truck.

And speaking of 8,000 presents, I must say, I've been royally spoiled this year. I'm going to make us very fat baking all the super yummy looking things in the Farm Chicks Cookbook, and then work it all off with the Wii Fit! Then I'm going to collapse into bed and read Dooce's book. Although I can tell that one will be a one-night special. Like, I'll start reading it at bedtime, and at 5 a.m. I'll put it down, finished.

Also, did I forget to mention the part where I spent most of the week leading up to Christmas worrying that Gracie was going to be disappointed because she wanted a Kanga and we couldn't find one? Luckily, she opened up her big stuffed Roo and declared THAT to be Kanga, and all was right in the world.

Can I also say how impressed I was that her Go Diego Go Animal Rescue Center only took about 5 minutes to put together? Because I was really afraid we were going to spend much of the morning with her asking me ARE YOU DONE YET MOMMY? ARE YOU DONE YET MOMMY? ARE YOU DONE YET MOMMY?????

Anyway…time to end this very disjointed post (that's what happens when you type each paragraph a few a hours apart I guess), and wish everybody a very wonderful 2010. Cheers!

I think I can, I think I can…

Okay, I'm a little bit freaked out right now. It is (stops to launch iCal) December 22, and I have not finished my Christmas shopping. Or done all my baking. Or wrapped ONE SINGLE PRESENT.

Where did December go, exactly? The last thing I remember it was the first week in December, and I was feeling pretty good about getting everything done. Then the freaking deep freeze blew in (I've said it before and I'll say it again: global warming my ass!) and I found myself couped up inside with a sick kid and -30°C temperatures outside. You don't have to be mother of the year to know you can't drag a sick kid out in those kind of temperatures, so inside I sat, waiting for the weather to get better.

So, I'm a little bit behind. Okay, a lot behind. But I'm going to finish today. TODAY! So that tomorrow I can wrap presents (instead of doing it all on Christmas Eve, after everyone goes to bed, like a usually do), and finish my last batch of baking, and be able to sit and relax on Christmas Eve.

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. Do you think if I say it enough times, it will actually come true?

God I love that man.

See that super hot guy sitting in the back of the truck? He's the sweetest man in the whole wide world.
Why? Well, see that truck he's sitting in? The very cool black truck that he bought last year, that he loves more than anything in the world (except maybe that little girl sitting next to him)? Yesterday, he sold it. For us. Me and the little girl. Because we didn't fit in it anymore.

Now, the new truck is a very, very nice truck. It's absolutely loaded, and has a huge back seat that will fit Gracie and theoretical baby #2, AND all of our many bags of things that seem to need to go with us everywhere we go. But it isn't HIS truck, the little black truck that he loves, and I feel both guilty that he had to sell it and absolutely full of love for the man who gave it up for us.

I'm sorry honey. We'll have lots of fun in the new truck. I promise!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…

Deck the Halls with bows of holly



'Tis the season to be jolly

For your information, I've NEVER been high young lady!

Actual conversation I had with Gracie yesterday:

Gracie: "Mommy, are you high?"

Me: "What!?"

Gracie: "Are you high? I'm too low to reach this. Can you help me get high so I can reach it?"

It was so hard not to laugh, but I managed it. Barely.

************

I also want to thank everybody who left a comment about the play school snack. Gracie and I are going shopping this afternoon, and tomorrow morning the kids at Airdrie Stay and Play will have their first taste of goat cheese. This is going to be fun…

And it only took 20 minutes to go two blocks

"Can I ride my tricycle to the park Mommy?"

"Do you think you can ride it all the way there and all the way back? Because you and the tricycle are too heavy for Mommy to carry all the way back from the park."

"Yes, I can do it Mommy!"



"Look Mommy! We're here! I rode my tricycle all the way to the park all by myself!"

Honestly, I didn't think we'd make it when we left. I figured we'd get part way and I'd have to carry the tricycle, and maybe even her, for the rest of the way. But it's only 2 blocks and I could use the exercise. And it's been my experience that when she tells me she thinks she can do something by herself, she usually can.



I'm so proud of her.

Everybody likes Goat Cheese, don't they?

So, I have a little question for you all today. But it's going to take me awhile to get there. Please hang in there.

Gracie and I go to a small parent-volunteer run play school every Friday morning. Parents can bring kids from newborn to five years old, and there is free play time, a teacher-led music session, a new craft to make each week, and most important to my question today: the teacher reads a story while the kids sit and eat a snack.

Each week, parents take turns bringing the snack. Two parents bring half of the snack: one parent brings cheese and crackers for the kids and a snack for the parents, and one parent brings fruit and a treat for the kids. Next week, it's my turn to bring the cheese and crackers. (Some of you know where I'm going with this, I bet.)

Now, on the official snack list, it just says you have to bring cheese and crackers. Nowhere does it dictate WHAT KIND of cheese and crackers you have to bring. But for some reason, every single week, the parent whose turn it is to bring cheese and crackers brings cheddar cheese and Goldfish Crackers. Which, I totally get. Every kid likes cheddar cheese and Goldfish Crackers, so nobody is going to complain and not eat it. Plus, they're cheap and plentiful. I totally get it.

But Gracie and I are allergic to BOTH of those things. We don't do cow's milk, or anything made with cow's milk. So, every week, I just pick those things out and let Gracie eat the fruit, then I pull out the snack that I packed for her. I certainly don't expect the parents to bring a dairy-free snack for everybody when mine is the only kid who doesn't do dairy.

But…since it's my turn to bring the snack next week, do you think it's okay for me to bring a snack that my child can actually eat? Say, her favorite goat milk mozzarella, and some whole-grain crackers? Or should I bring the cheddar cheese and Goldfish crackers like everybody else, and pack another snack for Gracie, like I do every week?

Help!

And the prize for the most obvious answer goes to…

I woke up this morning feeling even more crappy than I have for the past two weeks. This morning my chest hurts, and it hurts to breathe.

So I decided perhaps I should actually call my doctor now. I mean, it's been more than two weeks that I've been sick, and it's getting worse instead of better. Maybe this isn't just a little flu that's going to go away on it's own.

So I called my doctor's office, and I told them the long story and that now that my chest hurts when I breathe. And the nice lady on the phone asked: "Can you still breathe?"

"Um, yes, but it hurts when I do," I replied.

"Well, unless you start to not be able to breathe, there's nothing I can do for you. If you can't breathe, go to the hospital. Otherwise, just stay home so you don't spread it, and try to get some rest."

What I wanted to say, but didn't was: "WELL DUH!" OF COURSE YOU GO TO THE HOSPITAL IF YOU CAN'T BREATHE! I COULD HAVE FIGURED THAT OUT FOR MYSELF!"

What I really said was: "So, there's nothing you can do? You can't check to make sure it's not pneumonia or something?"

She was wholly unsympathetic. She said that they were getting lots of calls from people whose chests hurt: it was just what was going around.

So, there you have it. If I die of pneumonia, you know who to blame. I CALLED THE DOCTOR.

Up to my armpits in kleenex

Well, it's been quite the month here at the denice-isms household. We saw a bunch of houses, found one we liked, put in an offer, and totally got rejected. As in, the realtor wrote REJECTED in big block letters on the fax she sent back. So, it's back to the drawing board on that front.

Also, (and probably most important to me) I'm sick with some sort of plague that just doesn't seem to want to go away. I cough and I hack and spend the day just feeling tired and miserable, and it's been more than a week now and I just want it to go away. Gracie doesn't seem to have caught it from me, which is a bit of a miracle, but I must admit that I have had brief, fleeting moments when I wish she HAD caught it from me. Like, when she's running around the house at breakneck speed and begging me to play with her, and I only have enough energy to sit on the couch and vegetate. That way, maybe we could vegetate together, right? (Is it child abuse to hope your child gets a miserable cold from you?)

It doesn't help that this virus arrived at the same time as the cold and snowy weather around here. So we went from spending almost every afternoon outside running around, to being couped up inside, and Gracie's getting a tad grumpy with me. Yesterday, after an entire morning of temper tantrums and fights, I took a whole bunch of cold medicine, lined my pockets with Kleenex and took the kid to the park.

You’d have thought we'd gone to Disneyland, she was so happy.
"Oh, I missed you swings! And I missed you slide! And I missed you rocks! And Brown Horse missed you too!!!"

We need to find a place with a back yard.

My favorite part of the day

Every morning, as the sun filters through the blinds, I am awakened by the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall. Slap! Slap! Slap! Her little bare feet make contact with the laminate, and by the time she reaches my bedside I am fully awake but my eyes remain shut: I am waiting for her to say the magic word.

"MOMMY!" She yells, inches from my face. My eyes snap open and my mouth wears an instant grin. "Good Morning Sweet Pea!" is always my response. "Do you want to cuddle with us?"

"Yes!" she will say, already climbing in. She snuggles herself between hubby and I in our suddenly small bed. And I think to myself, "This is my favorite part of the day."

*********

Later, after we all get up, after clothes are found and breakfast is eaten and Daddy's lunch is packed, we go outside, ready to send him off to work. We stand by his truck, and I hold her up to his window. She hands him his lunch bag and leans in for a kiss: "Good bye Daddy! We love you lots and lots and lots!" We go back to the sidewalk and wave to him as he drives away.

And I think to myself, "This is my favorite part of the day."

***********

Now we are alone, my little munchkin and I. We spend the rest of the morning doing housework, taking breaks now and then to read a book or play a game. Maybe a grandma or an auntie will call for a chat. Maybe we'll bake daddy some chocolate chip cookies. At noon I let her watch Clifford the Big Red Dog on PBS while I have a shower. Afternoons are spent at the park or running errands.

The list makes the day sound mundane, but is actually filled with stolen moments of wonderful: a snuggle here, a dance to the radio there. Sometimes, I'm so overcome with her cuteness that I just pick her up and start kissing her all over until she can't stop giggling.

And after each of those stolen moments, I think to myself: "This is my favorite part of the day."

**************

And then I realize that my life is filled to the brim with favorite parts of the day, from the moment I wake up, to the moment my head hits the pillow. I love this new life of mine. I love making sure that my hubby and my Gracie are well taken care of. I'm so grateful that I get to spend my days in a home filled with love, and laughter and so many favorite parts of the day. And I'm forever mindful that these days are going by so very fast, and soon my little sweet pea will be too big to pick up and kiss all over until she can't stop giggling.

***************

So tonight, when I go to bed, I'm going to curl up with my husband, and tell him how much I love him. Then I'm going make sure he knows this is also my favorite part of the day, and thank him for giving me the favorite days of my life.

At 10 p.m. sharp…

I'm not much of a TV watcher these days. Honestly, when I sit down to watch a little TV before bed, it's more for the cute guy I snuggle with on the couch than for what I'm actually watching.

But here's where I sheepishly admit that I can't wait for the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy tonight.

I've got it all planned out: as soon as I'm done this post, I will feed Gracie some lunch, pack her in the stroller and take her to the park, where I will let her run around for at least a couple of hours and thoroughly wear her out. Then, I will come home, pull out the Pillsbury Pizza Dough and make us some pizza. Not only is it yummy, but it creates very few dishes for mommy to clean up…

Bath time will be 6:30 p.m., we'll get out at 7 p.m., play hide and seek and read stories until 8 p.m., and then it's bedtime for Gracie! Once Gracie is actually asleep, probably about 8:30 p.m., I will get my running shoes and head for the gym, which is 10 minutes away. I'll jump on the treadmill (well, not literally) and run until it is 9:30 p.m. That should give me enough time to come home, have a shower, and have the popcorn all ready for the beginning of Grey's Anatomy at 10 p.m.

If only I could use these organizational skills in the other areas of my life…

Wednesday Words

A few months back, Nate made a trip to Chapters to get the next couple books in the series he was reading, and came home with an armful of books for Gracie too. As she immediately reached for the ones with horses on the cover, he handed me a book called "Tough Chicks" (by Cece Meng) and said this one was sort of for Gracie, and sort of for me.

Boy, was he right. I love this cheeky little story about three chicks who are just a little bit different from the rest of the flock. The story is so much fun, the illustrations are gorgeous, and Gracie loves the part where they go: "peep, peep, zoom, zip, cheep!

If you have little girls in your life, this would be an excellent story to run out and get. Except for you Cheyenne. I may or may not have already purchased this story for your little one. Just saying…

First Fireworks

Without a doubt, my favorite thing about living in Airdrie is the fireworks. They do fireworks for everything here. Canada Day, Christmas, New Years, and any other celebration in between, there is always a free fireworks show down at Nose Creek Park.

Well, today was Airdrie's 100th Anniversary, and they kicked off the four-day celebration with, you guessed it: fireworks at City Hall! So we packed Gracie up and took her to see her very first fireworks show.

It was a big hit. I think we will be fireworks regulars from now on.

T minus 31 minutes and counting…

Tonight, I am counting down the minutes until Gracie is in bed. I don't usually do that, but today she's been a really special kind of grumpy. I just like to call it TWO. As in, holy crap, my usually sweet little girl is sure being TWO today.

I've got absolutely nothing done. I start something, and then Gracie commences being TWO, and the project is soon abandoned. And then, because I'm a whole lot older than TWO than I'd like to admit, I completely forget the project I started. And since the house doesn't seem to want to clean itself, I start a new project. And then Gracie commences being TWO, and the project is soon abandoned…can you see the infinite loop happening here?

I know I shouldn't really complain, because most of the time she is a very, very good kid who listens to me and does what I ask of her. But today -- today the TWO sure took over. I wonder if I have any wine left in the fridge…