The Birthday Post

This is the birthday post where I tell you the best part about my special day. I went to church. What girl doesn't want to celebrate her 32nd birthday at church? I know. You're all jealous. It was our school's Lenten Mass, so we walked the school over to the church. The primary division was in charge of making sure everything was in order and set up, and all the readers, etc were ready to rock. Despite being a division with 7 teachers, it falls to me.Everytime. I don't mind, but it comes with some stress. Father Chip-on-his-shoulder was busy and we needed to get a stool for the wee'uns to reach the microphone. Another teacher and I have done the sacramental years for a long time so the priest knows us quite well. We know where the step stool is so I mentioned to him that we needed it and asked if we could get it. Brushing me off, he said "yes, you know where to go." So we went to the little room off the altar where we've visited many times. We open the door and notice the room is packed with crap. We stood there looking around when he busts in and yells "Do I go to your house and go through your things?!" Excuse me? Are you kidding me right now? He told us to go, but then decided to berate us and tell us how the room has lots of boxes with glass and he doesn't want us breaking anything. Ugh. I'm not 6. I think I can handle it. First, my partner in church crime says "you can come to my house anytime you want and go through my things, just tell me where the stool is," and I, feeling like a scolded kid, asks if he wants us to put it back after mass and if we should ask him first...again, so he doesn't yell at us again. He says, "just put it back and don't break anything." I was so pissed off. I've never wanted to swear at a man of the cloth like I did then. You know, we go through a lot to make sure these kids are prepared for church, and you could be a little nicer. As we were walking away I decided 2 things: 1. He must be hiding something in that room. 2. It's not his house, it's the LORD's house isn't it? AND I'm sure my pennies in the basket helped payed for this place. Doesn't that give me some right to open a door here and there if it's for Mass? I also decided that I was done talking to him for the day. Just before Mass the choir teacher came over to me and said Father needed to speak to me about a part of the mass. I politely told her that I am not speaking to him right now and he can answer his own question, because we always to it the same way. Any further questions could be directed at another teacher..not me. Then I decided I'm not making eye contact with him, or even looking up at the altar in his direction for that day. This was a hard task because teaching grade one, I am the first class in the pew and he's right in front of me.

I know, I'm juvinille, but it made me feel better.

After Mass he came over to appologize, siting hunger and lack of sleep as the cause of his meltdown. I told him, "Thank you. I appreciate your appology, but you really made me feel sad when you yelled at us. You know us. You know we wouldn't do anything to intentionally offend or upset you. It wasn't fair. AND you yelled at me on my birthday!" Insert pout.

I tried to make him feel guilty.

I hope it worked.

BUT on the plus side, I can cross "getting yelled at by a priest, at church, on the altar, on my birthday" off my list of things to do in this lifetime.

Happy Birthday to me!

Pass the pipe

Mother Nature must be smokin' some serious crack.
What is all this snow?! We just got rid of the piles of it...now this. Snowmageddon. Some flowers were even starting to pop up...now they are buried in snow.
AND we didn't even get a snow day out of it.
Wake up Mother Nature! It's March 23rd. I would like some spring time weather please. Especially since next week is my birthday and I don't want to see snow.
K?
Thanks.

She has big...

Walking through Wal-mart, you see all kinds of people. I knew the time was coming when Mason would start to notice different people and perhaps make a comment, or ask an innocent question. Perhaps if I was really lucky he'd be loud enough for people to hear and I might even experience embarrassment.
Today, we were walking through Wal-Mart with my mom. A lady walked by us. I thought nothing of it, except that she seemed to be struggling a bit. As she was passing, Mason turned around and was just staring at her with a curious look on his face. I knew he was thinking something. I took notice so that I could anticipate what he might say or ask.
This lady was large. I'm no skinny minny, and there is no way to describe it delicately and without being offensive, but she had the shape where her hips and bum were extremely large in comparison to her upper torso. Get the idea? He stared for a moment as I thought, "maybe he's staring at the big display of Easter treats."
His eye's lit up.
Yes! Easter treats!
"Hey Mommy! That lady has big.."
Shit! Not the Easter treats!
"Hey Mommy! That lady has big pants!"
I really thought he was going to finish that sentence with something else.
I nearly keeled over from containing my laughter. Pants. Yes. Pants.
He went on to say, "I have little pants."
So innocent.
Please stay sweet and innocent a bit longer baby boy.

***

Ode to Pants Haiku:

Some pants big, some small

some the size of Montreal

Pants, Pants, lovely pants.

***

Definition: Pants

Intake of breath or trousers,

Pants, Pants, lovely Pants.
***

Pants, Pants, lovely pants

But don't forget the underpants

Better on the floor!

Thoughts from the deepest corner of my knicker drawer...

Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier to become a hoarder then to keep up with the mess around here. Especially after a holiday. I'd definitely have more free time. Less space, but more time. Probably a few extra friends though too...hairy ones that like cheese. Hmmm...

Sometimes I wonder if, as a vegetarian, I should be eating animal crackers. Is that wrong? I feel so naughty when I do.

Where the hell are Max and Ruby's parents?! And Stella and Sam's Parents?! Someone call Children's Aid please. Where are the strong parental role models in these shows? Children raising children. *sigh*

If I had a penis I'd jump up and down with a boner and see if it feels as silly as it looks.

I wonder how many men will now try that....

You know what annoys me to no end?!
When parents say they have to "babysit" their child, or that their spouse is babysitting their son/daughter.
You don't babysit your own child you idiot.
That's my 2 cents for today.

Mason rocked Pre-Camp.
It went really well. He was taking off his coat, a little unsure when he noticed the bathroom. He lit up saying "the sink is little!" and then "the toilet is just my size" and "the paper towel is just my size too!" Of course he then had to try all three. He was equally excited about the wee tables and chairs.
I guess we deprive our child?
He had lots of fun. It was dinosaur day so he coloured a dinosaur and glued bones on another. He talked about a few friends and was excited about everything.
The weather has been pretty good so we spent a long time outside in the afternoon too which just puts a spring in my step. The only thing that now that I get to spend all day with him, all he wants is mommy, mommy, mommy. I tried to stay low and read last night so Mr. Sass could put him to bed. He came down to kiss me tonight and then immediately started crying... he has been pulling out some gems lately. He knows exactly what will pull my little heart strings. Last night, through tears he hugged me and said, "but mommy, I want you to come snuggle me, because you are the best and I love you so much."
He's good.
I snuggled him.
Don't' judge.

March Break Madness

It's March Break!
Can I get a Woot Woot?


We started the week off with a busy weekend. Mason didn't have swimming lessons, but after what happened next week (I can't bring myself to blog about it just yet) I thought I'd better take him swimming for fun. Mr. Sass was working so Mason and I spent the first part of the day together. Then, once Mr. Sass was home, we hit the custom car show with "Papa." Mason did not appreciate all the base in the custom import section. In fact, he cried and asked to leave, so I left with him, and left poor Mr. Sass alone with scantily clad women who also wear underwear with no bums.

On Sunday it was Miss Ainsley's birthday party which was a blast. I'll have to see if I can post a picture of those two in action. Today we decided a library visit was in order. A couple of Stella and Sam books and a couple of Caillou books later we were happily on our way to visit daddio for lunch. The rest of the week is going to be busy too.

I'm currently packing Mason's bag for a "Pre-Kamp" for preschoolers. AHH! I want to try him with some more things where he does it himself, and where there are larger groups of kids (instead of the 3 kids he's used to at the home daycare!). Structure is key too. I am wondering how he'll do with circle time. It's only for 3 hours and I've signed him up for Tuesday and Thursday. I don't anticipate a "dry" drop off. If he cries, I just might cry and feel like a horrible mom for leaving him there...while I go grab coffee with a coworker (because apparently we can't handle one week without seeing each other?!).
Wish us luck!

A return to Haiku Friday

Finally Friday
Longest week known to mankind
March break here I come.

Gettin' my fat ass
in some kind of bloody shape
enough is enough.

Finally finished
reading something worth my time.
Read "The Gargoyle."

The one where Mason joins me on the bus...

It's before 8 am. I've left my tea on the counter at home. Annoyed. I decide to swing in to Tim Hortons to grab a tea and save my sanity...and possibly the lives of a few grade one students. The roads around this location are a great example of how our tax dollars are clearly being wasted elsewhere. Potholes, ridges, bumps. I was navigating said rough terrain when a little voice bellows from the back:

"JESUS! SLOW DOWN!"

I gasp. Did my precious boy just take the Lord's name in vain? Where has he learned this? Did I say something similar? How am I going to explain this one to his father...or his grandparents? *Gulp*

As I'm debating if I should react or not, he pipes up again: "Silly Jesus, he's swinging all over the place! Slow Him down mommy!"

He was talking about the Rosary that hangs from my rear view mirror. With all the bumps it was swinging around like mad! He wasn't taking the Lord's name in vain. Phew. I guess I won't have his company on the bus..just yet.

The one where Mason takes note of my knickers...

We were getting ready to leave this morning. I had run down to grab my pants and decided to drop trow in the living room to get changed. Mason was playing on the floor. He looked up and asked "Mommy, are you not wearing any underwear?" I showed him the strap and answered that I was indeed wearing underwear. He paused and then said, "but your underwear doesn't have a bum in it. You should get some with a bum part in it."
*pause*
"Your bum is going to get cold."

Maybe I'll go shopping for some normal knickers..to appease my son.
Or just change when he's not in the room.

Where's the Beef?!

It's in Isabelle's backback and in her hat too.

Let me back up a bit.
Mason randomly throws beef comments out. Beef. Completely random. One day it was "Mommy, there is beef in Isabelle's backpack." Another day it was "There is beef on Isabelle's hat."
Just to clear this up: Isabelle doesn't have beef in either her backback or her hat. She's not from a family who just randomly stashes cuts of cow into their child's belongings.
Yesterday morning he saw the snow on the driveway and just had to go take a few steps in it.
I made the comment "Wow Mason, it's really snowing! Look! you have lots of snow on you!" He just shrugged and climbed in the car with this comment: "It's okay mommy, it all just turns to beef anyway."
How do you not laugh?
Tonight he was making me "tea" in his bathtub and then out of the blue he says, "now do you want a cup of beef?"
I'm not really sure where this comes from. Does he know that it's funny talking beef to his vegetarian mother? I wonder if Auntie Keri has planted beefy thoughts in his head? Her daughter afterall opened the church offering and read the cheque as a letter, "Dear God, thanks for roastbeef!"
Maybe there is something in the water?
I just hope it's not beef....