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Boob Soaker Pads, QUICK DRAG & Sports Ball!

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My littlest guy turned two! We had a party at the house with family. I held him while everyone gathered around so he could open presents. This is when I started having a level 12 hot flash. I started sweating profusely. I was fanning myself like a Southern woman in church, wiping sweat from my brow constantly. I finally had to get up and I walk to the back door, open it and lifted up my shirt to use the bottom of it to soak up the sweat puddles under my boobs. It was at this point my brother-in-law looked over to see what was going on. I also realized that our back door looks onto the backyards of like 5 different houses, so surely someone saw me feverishly patting my boobs dry with my shirt half up, exposing my belly. Classic old Mom story. The next day I wondered if anyone had invented boob meat soaker pads, because if they hadn’t, I would. Turns out someone has and I have since ordered them. What a time to be alive. 

It is not just the hot flashes that are uncomfortable, it is the fact I am completely losing my mind that bothers me the most. I feel like someone slipping into dementia and just watching it happen. I sent out invites for my two years old’s birthday to everyone in the family and finally it was my Mother who asked why it was on that date, as it was nowhere near his birthday. And I just froze. I had totally got his birthday date wrong. I was in the right month but had used the date of my other kid’s birthday and supplanted it into May. Nothing shows your dementia hand more than having to go back to everyone on both sides of the family with a new date for your two year olds birthday because you apparently can’t keep your kid’s birthdays straight. 

The same week I fucked up the birthday invites we misplaced my littlest guy’s hat. So I was sending him to daycare with a neck warmer on his head which looked like a tiny doo rag and I wondered long and hard what it would be like to be a type A Mom and just totally have your shit together. My neighbour across the street 1000% has her shit together. They have plans, schedules, she goes to the gym several times a week, her house is clean, her garage is immaculate and I just wonder what that is like. I can’t stick to a schedule to save my life. I feel like her house is polished and sturdy and mine is put together haphazardly with tape and popsicle sticks. My house looks like a war zone all the time, despite how often I clean. When I leave the house I may or may not remember an extra diaper for my kid and if I do, it is loosely in my purse, not in a well stocked diaper bag with all the things I could need. Just a single loose diaper and MAYBE wipes. Anyways, I am trying to embrace being a Type B mom and laugh at it a little, but I often wonder how the other half nails all this. 

We were watching Frozen and my oldest yells, Mom why are you so much bigger than Elsa? I immediately wanted to die and then proceeded into a speech about how Disney doesn’t portray normal sized women and promotes female bodies that are not natural and likely impossible to achieve etc. But secretly just wished I could look a bit closer to Elsa than, I dunno, Shrek?

We were watching Little Mermaid (sounds like we just sit around watching Disney movies, which is hilarious because I hate Disney) and I realized I was old enough to really see that King Triton was a total Zaddy and actually pretty hot. I had no interest in Prince Eric. He was a baby. King Triton on the other hand, yowza, now we are talking. 

We are also in the planning stages of buying a house. And by planning stages I mean we go look at houses we can afford and I make pained faces and hate them and then we come home and complain about the prices of houses. But we went to see a house recently that looked really great int he pictures and had a huge backyard. We met a young real estate agent there we had never met and went inside the house. The foyer closet was a bright orange, fake brick, plastic sliding door and I yelled, now that is a fucking choice! It was hideous. The house was so so so much smaller than it looked online. You walked into the house and you were like in a little entrance way, then a step later in the kitchen and then two steps later in the tiniest of living rooms. I wondered if one bedroom apartments were bigger than this place. As I puttered in the kitchen pretending to look interested but was really just dying to leave, the real estate agent told us the house was built in 1984. And I said loudly, what a great year!! The real estate agent said, is that the year you were born? I said yes! Both of us! He said, that was the year my Mom was born! And a very intense, loud, trying to be joking but came across aggressive – SHUT THE FUCK UP came out of my mouth. I could tell it was too harsh and tried to bring the mood up a bit but I could tell my partner was embarrassed. A semi normal occurrence whenever we are in public. Anyways, the houses are all small, old and expensive as fuck. This is my analysis of the housing market right now in case you needed a professional summary of it. 

My new hobby after a glass or two of wine is to put books on hold at the library with the intention of reading them and then when they come in months later I am like what? Wtf? What is this book? It’s a pretty good time. 

When I work from home, I start my day in my pyjamas, which is a button up, collared black classy pj shirt and no pants. My hair is a mess, I have no bra on and I am wearing no make up. On the very rare occasion someone wants to video call me during this time, I say sure – just one second and then I start yelling QUICK DRAG and run up the stairs to do the quickest possible put together possible. Hair, eye liner, tinted moisturizer – QUICK DRAG!

There is a group of old men who play soccer in the park and I am desperate to join this team. They have grey hair (same), beer guts (same) and have the ability to run short sprints and then potentially have a heart attack (same) so I think our athletic abilities match perfectly. I told my partner this was my league and he didn’t seem convinced. Then I asked him if he thought these old timers were in better shape than me and he quietly nodded. Which is fucking rude. But in all seriousness, I would likely need to wear a diaper playing that intense of a sport. I was playing soccer with the kids in the park once and ran really fast and kicked the ball and then immediately told everyone we had to go home right away to deal with a leakage issue. Goddddd being an aging woman is literally a calamity. 

We went to Toronto last weekend with this kids and my take away from the trip, minus the fact that we had a great time, is that everything we did took forever. The trip down, instead of being 4 hours was like 6.5 hours. Because someone always had to pee, or was hungry and like we would stop and each take turns peeing and then by the time everyone was done, I wondered if I needed to pee again. And the cycle would start again. Also, I always forget about the traffic in Toronto. Just a hard WTF. How do people live there. The night before going to the zoo we looked it up and google maps confirmed it to be a 45 minute trip. So the next morning we got ready early to make the most of our day and then when we looked it up again, the trip was now 1 hour and 45 minutes. What?? We couldn’t lose that kind of time to get to the zoo so like suckers we took the toll roads. What a racket that is. Anyways besides my ADHD brain losing its mind because everything took forever, we had a great trip. 

I was planning to take my Mom to get a pedicure in Carleton Place for Mother’s Day. We decided to do brunch first. My mom suggested we go to the the breakfast place right on the main street, Freshco. I told Mom that Freshco was a grocery store. But I knew the restaurant she was talking about, Freshii right? Anyways when we arrived it turns out it’s called Freska and we are both just have no idea what we are talking about. 

I went out to another concert! It is so clear I never get out much at these events. I pregame fairly hard, even in the parking lot of the concert venue I was shotgunning gin cocktails. But before leaving my house I sneakily put two gaviscon into my back pocket and my partner was like woahhh, settle down! Are those for crushing up and snorting later? Party gal! Anyways I drank too much, danced my fucking face off to the Tea Party and had a great time. I also had the worst hangover I had endured in many years and vowed never to drink again. This proclamation lasted approximately 4 days. 

My neighbours kids are really into sports. They follow professional sports and also participate in organized sports. My kids were out playing with their kids and my oldest was kicking a soccer ball yelling about how he was playing sports with a sports ball and it was so abundantly clear my kids have very little exposure to these things. Scoring sports goals with a sports ball into the sports net! Sports!

My partner gets a lot of cake like items from work. Last night he brought home a chocolate cake that the the kids had a slice of after dinner. We had already decided before dinner that we were going to go shopping for some kids’ shoes and winter gear. When we were out shopping my littlest guy kept putting on adult shoes and running around the store. My oldest boy would NOT try on any shoes that were not rainbow, unicorned or sparkly (we went home with silver sparkled shoes). We went to Carter’s for mitts and hats and my littlest started screaming, sat down and took off his shoes and socks and refused to put them back on as my oldest ran around the store screaming and pointing at everything that sparked his interest. Anyways by the time we got back in the car, dragging at least one screaming kid, I looked at my partner and said – watch as I feed my kids chocolate cake before going shopping, WELCOME TO JACKASS. Holy fuck, never again. 

We bought a house! Jesus Christ. The agony of getting to this moment. We finally bought a house. It is a red brick semi-detached 1950’s house that has been completely updated on the inside. I am not sure there is anything more stressful than moving, but doing it with 2 kids and all their stuff, BRUTAL. My partner and I also broke up about 3 times leading up the move and during. 10 out 10 would recommend moving your whole life while in a fight with your partner. JK. Anyways, at no point did we have time to get the house ready so we are living out of boxes, with the tv on the floor and not a curtain rod in sight. My poor neighbours. I spend a lot of my time without pants on and they are all now painfully aware of this. And I get changed upstairs and realize there is a window that directly looks into the window of the house next door, which is inhabited by 4 guys as far as I can tell. So major apologies to those guys, they have def had an eye full. Because the house is old, it is full of eccentricities. Like no door closes properly, the staircase curves out when it shouldn’t, if the dryer is on the lights flicker in the basement, that kind of stuff. And we have noticed more and more that the renos that were done also have their eccentricities. Like they redid the kitchen flooring but didn’t complete behind the fridge or it appears there is a jagged wood wedge holding up the quartz counter top. Like hilarious. Thanks for coming out contractors. The bannister upstairs is also so short that the height of it is just under my butt so should I ever misstep I will be pinwheeled down the hardwood stairs. Death by cute old house. Anyways, the neighbourhood is interesting. My first morning working from home I opened all the windows in the office and thought, wow this is so peaceful ad lovely. And just then I heard someone cough aggressively and hack out some phlegm and I thought ok, this sums up the neighborhood perfectly, peaceful and lovely with a side of lung cancer. 

Waspocalypse, Fucking People & Pussy Palace

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We did a family trip to Toronto this summer to take the kids to the zoo, amongst other things. The zoo was great. We were there for over 5 hours and only did the Africa section. So I guess we have to go back every year to get the whole place seen eventually. On the last day we were in Toronto, Alex had a work show to attend, which was at a conference centre by the waterfront. After playing in a lovely park (with live music!) all morning we went to pick up Alex. In the parking lot I handed my 3 year old a sandwich and then a fruit pouch to my little guy. This was a fucking mistake because we started getting swarmed by wasps immediately. So I grabbed the baby and took him into the front seat and breastfed him instead. Alex was trying to assist the older one with the sandwich and trying to get him into his car seat, but the wasps were on a fucking mission. After several attempts of getting him into his car seat while holding a sandwich, several wasps entered the car and with that, Alex grabbed the sandwich and launched it about 20 feet away where a million seagulls descended onto it. At this point I was exiting the car with the babe screaming because there are wasps in the car and what seemed like a thousand seagulls hurdling towards us. My oldest is also crying because Dad just ripped his sandwich away from him and threw it like a deli psychopath. And as we are all screaming and racing around the car trying to get the wasps out and the kids back in, I realize that I got out of the car while breastfeeding and the baby had since detached so I am also running around screaming with a tit out. Needless to say, I prayed one of my partner’s work colleagues had just casually gone to their car and maybe stopped to record the whole thing because I can only imagine how hysterical the scene was. We finally did get everyone in and assumed we got the wasps out and then spent the next 30 mins leaving Toronto while explaining to my traumatized crying 3 year old why his sandwich was confiscated so aggressively and why he couldn’t eat it. We often talk about Waspocalypse and if we are in a park and a snack comes out and if there is even a hint of a wasp, snacks and park are fucking done. Occasionally and randomly my oldest guy will just come out of the blue and say, remember that time Dad threw my sandwich? It has stuck with him. 

My littlest guy has some rough periods because he is is teething and the big teeth are coming in. One night he was really wound up and upset and I told my partner I was just going to take him up and put him in a bubble bath with some calm music and dim lights. My partner looked and me and said, he’s not a middle aged white woman dude, he’s a baby. Point taken, but it’s not like I offered him a glass of chilled pinot grigio. Anyways, he obvs has the spirit of a middle aged woman because the bubble bath and calm music did the trick.

So with the baby having terrible sleeps, so am I. I have returned to work which, you know, had to happen unfortunately. My first week back I was chatting with some people that I had vaguely known before going on mat leave and within 5 minutes I was talking about child birth, postpartum and then directly into peri-menopause. Like, Jesus Christ. I literally don’t know this person’s last name but we are in a conversation where she asked me if my delivery was vaginal, so here we are. I hear you lose your filter completely as you age but if I never had one I worry about how wild I may get in everyday conversations. I started on a new team at work, of all men. On my first day I introduced myself as a 41 year old with 2 babies, unmedicated ADHD sliding into peri-menopause, extremely sleep deprived and with a brain like a sieve and thought, maybe this was a bit much. 

Anyways, my partner now yells BINGO every time I talk about peri-menopause (even to complete strangers) to highlight that I now mention it daily because IT IS A BIG DEAL everyone. We must constantly bring up Cougar Puberty to everyone to normalize how fucking insane it is! I am so brain dead these days that my phone was next to a chicken breast I had just just cooked on the kitchen counter and I tapped the chicken breast to check the time and thought, whoops, I think it might be time to put me down. I think that’s me calling it. Just tried to open the screen of a chicken breast. Good night everybody, its been great. 

My littlest guy is really into music. He is always touching (ruining) my vinyl collection and cds. The only thing that calms him down is Abbey Road by the Beatles. This is his emotional support album. His bedtime lullaby is Golden Slumbers. Anyhoo, we were playing at the water table outside the other day and the giant air conditioning unit whirled on and he went over and stood next to it and started dancing and I was like that’s right little one, find the beat, even when it’s just an air conditioner. Find that beat.  

My 3 year old has a wild vocabulary. I know everyone says this about their kids but sometimes the things he says are wild. And his self awareness! Because he loves Thomas, when he gets REALLY mad at you, he will scream at you to go BACK TO YOUR SHED! Which is hard to hear without laughing hysterically because, like, what? Anyways, awhile back he was screaming this and then he stopped and looked at me and said, I know I am being ridiculous and then just walked away. I mean totally correct but like wow. He circled back a little while later to tell me “that he was not pleased with himself” and I wondered where this little old man came from. 

Last week my oldest walked into the back office and started to close the door and muttered “fucking people,” and I have never felt so on his wavelength than at that exact moment. Yeah man, fucking people. 

Last year I made a goal to learn how to make lasagna. It is now in my regular food rotation of the same boring foods I make. I made one this week and Alex said, you have really perfected your lasagna! And I told him that the key is twice the sauce and twice the meat and Alex replied, that totally summarizes how you’ve lived your life! I had to think about it for 3 seconds and then was like, wow, correct. Nailed it.

I am completely obsessed with the new Lily Allen album. I was showing Alex how many downloads Pussy Palace had and I was like, look! Almost 9000! And then I looked at it and was like, no that’s not right. It’s 900,000! And Alex goes, that is also incorrect. I put my phone down and announced I know longer knew how numbers worked. Is it 9 million? Alex nodded. Embarrassed by my total idiocy I just immediately started singing Pussy Palace loudly hoping the fun lyrics would take away from the fact I forgot what numbers were. We started watched Stranger Things and of course the Lily Allen album is about David Harbour (the cop in it) cheating on her. In the first episode he descends into an underground tunnel and I yelled out, Oh Look! David Harbour needing to investigate yet another hole! Christ!! 

Guyssss!!! I went to my first concert in one million years! Seriously, I went from COVID into hibernating with my babies and offering round the clock tit service to them. So I had not left the house at night in forever. I was so excited and scared and nervous frankly. What would the world be like without me in my pyjamas at 6:30 pm in the evening? Could I survive without a blanket and 1.5 litre water bottle by my side at that time of day? Would I have to pee every 20 mins at the concert like I do at home? Will I walk in and give myself the limit of 2 drinks and then drink 5? So much to think about! I was pleasantly surprised to see there was no line up because I am for sure at the point where my patience, nor my bladder, can deal with a line. I went straight to the bar and asked on a level of 1-10, how shitty was their white wine and the bartenders pained face said it all. I replied great, I will have a glass of that mixed with whatever juice mix is in that bottle back there. He said its pineapple lime or some shit and I said perfect. Whenever I reordered, he saw me coming and said – wine cocktail! That is correct sir and keep them coming! I was, as I always am, shocked at how my 90s rock idols have aged. I was there with one of my best friends Rob and my brother Ben. Rob said I Mother Earth looked and sounded liked someone’s Dad’s garage band who got out of the house for the night (harsh but not totally off). And Matthew Good, aww Matt. We go back so far. He was hunched a bit like Mr. Burns and moved like someone who was just tipping from adult hood into their elderly years. I had earlier in the night made a colourful comment about still wanting to have sexual relations with Matt Good and I was rethinking this statement aggressively. It might feel a bit too much like a trip to a nursing home. Anyways, regardless of the geriatric rock stars, I danced, head banged and sang at the top of my lungs for the entire show. Mind you, I did not jump because I did learn that my pelvic floor will no longer support me doing this. Both Rob and Ben said that my dancing and singing and being in my element was worth the price of admission, which was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. I took about 300 bathroom breaks, drank too many weird wine cocktails and had the best time ever. It took me over 3 days to recover but that’s just partying in your 40s babyyyyy. Fucking worth it every once in awhile!

Rusted Stinking Garbage, Thomas Off & Trick Question Asshole!

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So my little guy is now 1 and my not so little guy is 3.5. Three year olds are really funny human beings. He is a sweet little guy that is so polite and kind. And when I served him his homemade dinner last night he said he didn’t want to eat it because it was rusted, stinking garbage. There are a lot of these things that come out where you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or lose it. Like I was so mad but also trying so hard to hide my laughter. What a little shit!

He is super cuddly. He just wants a good snuggle, often. He was snuggling into me and he whispered that he loved me SO MUCH. And I was so moved and then he said that he also loved Spencer and Emily and Connor and I was like – wow, those aren’t even the main fucking engines in Thomas the Tank Engine. Those are like peripheral, who gives a shit, engines. Wow. So rude. 

My sister-in-law and I took the little babies to the pool one day. We puttered around the kids pool and then decided to wander into the big pool. We went out as far as I could go while still being solidly on my feet while holding the baby. There was a large man hanging out by himself in the deep end. He asked me what my little guys name was and when I told him, he said – oh, just like on Thomas the Tank Engine and I said yes! And funny you should say that because my other little one also has the name of a steam engine from Thomas. He replied by saying, no that train is actually a tender engine, not s steam engine. And I was like what the fuck, are we about to get into a Thomas off? Let’s go. And then I thought I would show off my naming other engines and I said something about James being vain but lots of fun (information that is given to you by the theme song) and then this man gave me a lecture on how Gordon was far more vain than James and I was about to argue with him but I thought about it and realized he was right. And I wondered if maybe it was not the best use of my time to get into an argument with an adult that spends his weekdays lying in the deep end of the public pools talking to strangers but also because I bet he was definitely going to be a fucking Thomas savant when I literally black out every time it’s on the tv. So I made the decision to leave the big pool before being totally shown up by this man.

I think walking away from such a situation also shows me how much I have given up on my brain. I know it’s in there but I never really know what I am going to get day to day. I went to Costco with my sister-in-law (with the babes). I never use debit so I put an obscene amount (Like if you spend this much at Costco you are in fucking trouble) of money into my debit account because they do not accept my credit card there. I spent JUST this amount (fuck!) And then as I was walking to the exit, the cashier chased me and said I forgot to pay for a couple items and I was like omg, I didn’t have anymore money in my account so my SIL had to pay and then as we were walking to the exit, I realized I had completely misplaced my receipt (Godddd) and could not find it anywhere (like had I eaten it?!). I begged the cashier to let the receipt checkers (official job title?) let us out without back tracking to customer service and when they finally did and I got back to the car feeling like the dumbest tit alive. So I grabbed a muffin I had just bought and started stress eating it, only to realize the wrapper was still on it. I was like I need to go fucking home right now before I fucking hurt myself being this dumb.

I was bantering back and forth with my partner one day and in the middle of the conversation, thought it would be the most perfect time to reference the movie Speed and I looked at him and went, “trick question asshole!” And my partner was like what? And I told him I had just nailed him with a Speed reference because my brain was on fireeee that day. He looked at me and was like, holy fuck the line is “pop quiz hot shot.” Like I wasn’t even close.

My little guy is really into the kids kitchen we have. His favourite kitchen accessory seems to be the knife that looks so much like a real knife, you double take every time you see it. The other day he was feverishly crawling up the stairs and I turned so I could face him and I saw that he was crawling up the stairs with this knife in his mouth. But he was going so intently that it absolutely looked like he was a pirate on his way to avenge someone’s death. 

I sometimes have to turn my white noise sound machine off because I occasionally get it in my head that it’s secretly playing a Dire Straits song (walk of life for those of you who give a shit) and it starts looping in my head and then I can’t sleep. And like I don’t listen to Dire Straits, ever. But my sound machine appears to be possessed by eighties mediocrity. 

My oldest one had an accident at day care one day and we were discussing this (because he is pretty solidly potty trained) and we said something along the lines of, big boys don’t pee their pants, they use the potty and he asked about big girls. And I said, yes bud, big girls like Mommy don’t pee their pants either and then my partner looks at me with raised eye brows and I say, ok unless we jump up and down or run or sneeze or perhaps laugh too hard, but in general we don’t pee our pants like often. 

Three year old was playing trains last night and the train fell off the track and he yelled FOR FUCKING SAKES. Ah my child.

I went to the movies with my Dad this week. My last week of maternity leave so it felt like the best time to go see the 18 hour Formula 1 movie (jk 2.5 hours). I know going with my Dad will give it an extra layer of excitement because he often yells things out at the screen or discusses the movie, quite audibly. In the movie, every time the title of the race came up on the screen my Dad would shout it…SILVERSTONE! MONZA! ABU DHABI! It was like descriptive video for the blind that no one asked for. And one time, during a really fun racing scene he just really loudly sighed FUCK. He also yelled to Brad Pitt that he was so cute. We both yelled when Toto Wolf came on the screen because how can you not. Anyways, I don’t know why everyone was raving about Brad Pitt in the movie, Javier Bardem is the real Zaddy of the film. I did not yell this at the screen but I would have been in good company if I had.